Paper Alice by Charlotte Calder

in the car, why she hadn’t come in herself. But he merely shrugged.
    â€˜I’ll have a look,’ he said, and padded past me up the hall.
    Another silence. Chet yawned and stretched his arms in the air, smiling slightly.
    â€˜The things we do for a mate, eh?’
    I nodded slightly, paranoia fizzing inside me.
    â€˜You!’ cried Andy, grinning at Chet. ‘You wouldn’t save a drowning man without first negotiating a fee!’
    Chet raised an eyebrow.
    â€˜Nonsense. I’m a model of charity and altruism.’
    â€˜Yeah – like Attila the Hun.’
    They traded more cheerful banter while I only half-listened, biting my lip and staring blankly at the poster on the fridge. It looked new, sitting amidst some tatty photos and other stuff; I’d seen it around at uni.
    Then Paul’s voice came from up the passage.
    â€˜Hey – what does it look like?’
    We turned. Paul, now dressed, was leaning around the doorway.
    â€˜The shoe,’ he repeated, looking at me. ‘What’s it like?’
    May snorted. ‘How many stray shoes have you got under there?’
    From the glances the three of them were exchanging, it occurred to me that perhaps I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t Paul’s greatest fan.
    â€˜Oh . . .’ I replied finally, catching Chet and Andy’s eyes. ‘Blue polka-dot.’ Then added idiotically, ‘With a big bow.’
    Then we all laughed, even me.
    â€˜Make sure about the bow!’ Andy called. ‘He just happens to have a thing,’ he added, scratching his head and smiling at me, ‘about chicks in blue polka-dot shoes.’
    I was struck again by the liveliness of his eyes in the dishevelled mess of the rest of him. ‘Oh,’ I laughed, my gaze sliding away. ‘My friend wears nothing but!’
    May put a hand to her face, eyes wide in a parody of dawning comprehension.
    â€˜ That’s why there’s been all these women tiptoeing through here in polka-dot shoes!’
    â€˜Every wearer of polka-dot shoes within a hundred kilometre radius,’ put in Chet, ‘like zombies . . .’
    â€˜â€“arms outstretched, clomping towards Paul!’ This was Andy again.
    â€˜Hordes of them, pressing up against the front fence and staring in,’ I put in, giggling.
    The arrival of the shoe itself, borne by a nonplussed-looking Paul, caused more amusement.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I said, taking it without meeting Paul’s eye, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed again. And, I have to say, he didn’t look exactly comfortable either. After all, what was he meant to say? Say hi to Milly for me?
    â€˜We should do a sketch about it for the show,’ I heard Andy say to Chet. ‘Swarms of zombies in polka-dot shoes.’
    What show? I wondered.
    â€˜Might be too much like that ad that used to be on TV,’ said May. ‘The chick-magnet one, for cars . . .’
    â€˜Anyway,’ I put in, ‘Gotta be going. Thanks–’
    From his place at the table Chet clasped his hands behind his head, tipping back on his chair. ‘Bye, brave Alice,’ he said. ‘Your friend Milly should be extremely grateful to you.’
    I quickly looked at him, then glanced away again. Once again it was impossible to tell whether he was serious, or taking the piss. Probably a bit of both, I decided.
    â€˜Oh yeah,’ I said, overly sarcastic. ‘Sure!’
    What is it they say about sarcasm being the lowest form of wit?
    â€˜I gotta split too,’ said Andy. He turned to the others. ‘Lil,’ he announced, ‘is cooking her famous Mexican hotpot tonight.’
    â€˜Ah . . .’ May smiled, cocking her head on one side. ‘How is the darling thing?’
    â€˜Gorgeous,’ he replied, in a fake American accent, ‘as ever.’ He raised a hand. ‘Catch ya later.’
    Chet raised a hand in return, and May said,