Free What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty Page B

panel on the side of a container of yogurt, warning them darkly, “You have to be really careful with yogurt.” Whenever Nick and Alice ate yogurt after that, one of them would always shout, “Careful!”
    As she got closer and the bright light over Alice’s bed lit up her face, Alice saw fine spidery lines etched around Elisabeth’s mouth and on either side of her eyes behind the elegant spectacles. Elisabeth had large, pale blue eyes with dark lashes, like Alice, inherited from their father; eyes that attracted compliments, but now they seemed smaller and paler, as if the color had begun to wash out.
    There was something bruised and wary and worn out about those washed-out eyes, as if she’d just been badly defeated in a fight she’d expected to win.
    Alice felt a surge of worry; something terrible must have happened.
    But when she asked, Elisabeth said, “What do you mean what happened to me ?” so briskly and spiritedly that Alice doubted herself.
    Elisabeth pulled over a plastic chair and sat down. Alice caught a glimpse of her skirt pulling unflatteringly across her stomach and quickly looked away; it made her want to cry.
    Elisabeth said, “You’re the one in hospital. The question is what happened to you ?”
    Alice felt herself slip into the role of irrepressible, hopeless Alice. “It’s completely bizarre. It’s like a dream. Apparently, I fell over at the gym. Me, at the gym! I know! According to Jane Turner I was doing something called my ‘Friday spin class.’ ” She could be silly now, because Elisabeth was here to be sensible.
    Elisabeth stared at her with such grim, frightened concentration that Alice felt her silly grin drift away.
    She reached out for the photo she’d left sitting on the chest of drawers next to her bed and handed it to Elisabeth, saying in a small, polite voice, “Are these my . . .” She felt more foolish than she’d ever felt in her life. “Are these my children?”
    Elisabeth took the photo, glanced at it, and something complicated crossed her face, a barely perceptible tremor, and vanished. She smiled carefully and said, “Yes, Alice.”
    Alice took a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes. “I’ve never seen them before.”
    She heard Elisabeth take a deep breath herself. “It’s just temporary, I’m sure. You probably just need to rest, to relax and—”
    “What are they like?” Alice opened her eyes. “Those children. Are they . . . nice?”
    Elisabeth said in a stronger voice, “They’re wonderful, Alice.”
    Alice said, “Am I a good mother? Do I look after them all right? What do I feed them? They’re so big!”
    “Your children are your life, Alice,” said Elisabeth. “You’ll remember for yourself soon. It will all come back. Just—”
    “I could cook them sausages, I guess,” said Alice, cheering up at the thought. “Kids love sausages.”
    Elisabeth stared. “You would never feed them sausages.”
    “I thought I was pregnant,” said Alice. “But they did a blood test and told me I’m definitely not. I don’t feel like I am, but I can’t believe I’m not. I can’t believe it.”
    “No. Well, I don’t think you would be pregnant—”
    “ Three kids!” said Alice. “We’re only going to have two.”
    “Olivia was an accident,” said Elisabeth stiffly, as if she disapproved.
    “None of this seems real,” said Alice. “I’m like Alice in Wonderland. Remember how much I hated that book? Because nothing made sense. You didn’t like it either. We liked things to make sense.”
    “I can imagine it must feel really strange, but it’s not going to last, it’s all going to come back to you any minute. You must have hit your head quite . . . severely.”
    “Yes. Very severely.” Alice picked up the photo again. “So this little girl. This little girl is the oldest, so she must be my first baby, right? So we had a girl?”
    “Yes, you did.”
    “We thought it was a boy.”
    “I remember that.”
    “And labor! I went