The Other Ida Read Online Free PDF Page A

phone.” Her hand went to cover her mouth, aware of the cold sore on her top lip.
    â€œCan I have soya milk, but no sugar please?” Alice said as she sat down at the kitchen table and stared outside while Ida made coffee in silence. The back garden was more overgrown than ever and wild grass reached the handle of the French doors.
    â€œLook I can’t be bothered with excuses or anything, leave it, seriously, but while you’re here you can help me,” Alice said.
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI know what you’re like, you enjoy being a victim, and you’ll like to say I haven’t consulted you, so I want you to help me plan.”
    â€œOkay.” Ida lit her cigarette on the cooker and watched as Alice went to the dresser, where a penguin Ida had made at school still sat, her tiny thumb prints all over his beak. She opened a drawer and handed Ida a brochure.
    â€œEco-coffins,” Ida read, “awesome.”
    Alice sat and looked at her nails.
    â€œIt’s got to be a Manchester United one. Or one of these gold Egyptian things,” Ida said.
    â€œI’m serious. It’s up to you,” Alice said. “I was thinking a willow one. Anyway, she wanted to go to the Catholic graveyard obviously, it’ll have to be the one in Charminster, and the funeral is on Tuesday at two – Father Patrick’s been so helpful. She always said she wanted to be buried as soon as possible, ‘the way the Jews do it’, but that was the earliest we could get. We have to sort out flowers and stuff and the wake – or whatever you call it –and who’s going to stay here. I’m letting Hendon’s, the funeral directors, take over most of it, I don’t care how much it costs.”
    Ida was still reading. “Wait, we could get a plain cardboard one. It says here ‘some relatives choose to personalise these coffins with meaningful messages and drawings,’ she would have loved that. Ha! She’d haunt us for it.”
    Alice put her hand over her eyes and Ida was surprised when she started laughing too. “God, imagine. We could get Terri to paint on a poem she’d written. Oh wait, Ida. You have to look at the card she sent. It’s in the sitting room. She’s outdone herself.”
    Ida put her cigarette out under the tap and sat down at the table.
    Alice scrunched up her nose. “What’s going on with you Ida? Honestly. You’ve practically got fucking dreadlocks.”
    Ida’s hand went to her scalp and it was true, the back part of her hair was forming ropes. “You know my hair’s weird, this always used to happen when I was younger.”
    Alice looked sceptical. “Not when you washed it.”
    â€œOh for fuck’s sake. Can we not talk about this?” She paused. “Where are you living now? Cornwall or wherever?”
    â€œNo, not for years. I moved when I left uni. I live in London. West Dulwich.”
    â€œDull-itch,” Ida laughed. “That’s not London, is it?”
    She noticed Alice’s face. “Oh, is it really? Sorry, I don’t get out much. Well, don’t leave Camden much anyway. It sounds like the countryside or something.”
    Alice just looked at her.
    â€œWhen did you get here?” Ida asked.
    â€œI’ve been here for ages on-and-off – months. You didn’t know that? Didn’t Da tell you? Fuck me.” She started to cry.
    â€œJesus, Alice, I didn’t know,” Ida said. “My phone got cut off for a bit…”
    Over Alice’s shoulder she was surprised to see a man standing in the kitchen doorway, a short, skinny, dark-haired man with a big wonky nose and jaw-length shaggy hair. He was wearing a navy Adidas tracksuit top and faded red boxers and hovering, seemingly unsure about whether to join them. Ida noticed a patch of wee on the front of his underpants.
    â€œYes, I was here when she was crawling around and screaming