Bigger On the Inside

The sky was heavy with thick grey clouds and wind swept through Bakers St. as Alice, clad in her duckling yellow mack and wellies, ambled toward the flat she and her mother had shared since her father’s passing in the fall. It had been such an ordeal for her mum that she had uprooted them from their Wisbech home in Cambridgeshire and moved them 145.6 kilometres to their new flat in Brentwood in Essex. It did wonders for her mum. It seemed that she was able to dismiss everything that had happened and move on. Alice couldn’t. The sky here always seemed to know how she was feeling and proved it yet again by spitting lazily on her head. Sighing, she reached back and pulled the hood over her head. The spitting turned to bone aching drizzles in a matter of seconds and Alice had to force her head up so she could see the houses as she passed by, still trying to figure out where 220a was. Her wellies had begun to fill again since she’d gotten on the train coming back from popping in on her old friends in Wisbech.

Maybe if I wish really hard, the house will just appear.

Her feet grew numb as she sloshed her way up the stairs that had finally appeared. The door gave out a low moan of protest against her as she opened the door to the mudroom. It took a bit of strength to shut it against the wind, but once it had clicked shut she sank to the ground and leaned her back against it. She wanted to stay that way forever but she could already feel pools of water forming around her as her wellies leaked out. She took off her shoes and cringed as fresh puddles crawled their way to her bum on the uneven floors. Shoving the useless things aside, she stood and hung up her mack on the hanger behind the door. She felt a chill go down her spine after hanging it up. The kind of chill that says, “You’re getting sick. You should fix that. Take a hot bath, drink some hot tea. Do anything to help me!” Of course she knew she couldn’t get sick just from being cold, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she could.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she followed the stairs to the kitchen in her flat. Her vision tunnelled as she spotted the kettle. She filled it, hating the feeling of the metal turning cold in her hands from the water, placed it on the stove, and turned it on as high as it could go. She grabbed herself a mug from the cupboard and turned to the tea basket. There wasn’t much space in her kitchen, as it was in a flat, and her mum had had to be creative when unpacking. She took a moment just looking at the tea. It was so beautiful. So colourful. It was perfect. It was exactly what she needed. Just the smell of herbs and spices floating around her was enough to calm the aching feeling inside her. She picked up a bagged chamomile tea, not wanting to deal with loose leaf, and placed it in her mug. Hugging it to herself, she waited patiently for the kettle to whistle.

Around the corner a door opened, startling her. Her mum walked into the kitchen with wet hands trying frantically to find a napkin to dry them with. “Oh, Alice!” she gasped, her hand now clutching her chest. “You startled me.” Alice stared at her mum and her mum stared back confused. “Oh!” her mum finally noticed her hand, that was still poised on her chest, was dripping wet and began looking for a napkin again. “Your thing came in the post today. The postman was so nice. Apparently he’d come ’round yesterday but I wasn’t ‘ome. Said he didn’t want to leave it unattended so he came back and –” Alice wasn’t listening to her mum’s rambling anymore. It always ended the same way with her mum assuming some random bloke, who just happened to be nice, might want to take her out. She could honestly care less.

“Where is it?”

“Oh,” she said, clearly still on another train of thought. “Um… I think I had ’im put it on the counter. I had ’im in for a cuppa tea I did. He was so nice too. Thanked me right away and even asked for anotha on—”

How could I have missed it when it was sitting right there? How dim can I be?

She ran to the knife set, pulled out the biggest one and started tearing away at the package. When she had it open, she threw the knife away from her and began digging. She dug and dug for what seemed like hours, but in reality was more like two or three seconds, (it wasn’t that big of a box) until she felt it underneath all the Styrofoam peanuts. Long and rectangular. Tears of joy formed at the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t wait any longer. She pulled it out from its hiding place at the bottom of the box, ready to scream in excitement! But the scream never came. In her hands she held a box. On the cover was a pentagram engulfed in flames. The scream came now, but from her mother across the room.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ALICE? WHAT KIND OF THINGS HAVE YOU BEEN DOING??” She began to cross herself and mutter her Hail Marys under her breath.

She looked at her mum in shock. She dropped the box and backed away. What is this? This isn’t what I ordered, but…who would order this? This is demonic.

“Have you sworn yourself against the Lord and become a Satanist?”she screamed. Looking frantically at the ceiling she cried out, “Oh God, please don’t let my baby be a Satanist. It’s not right Lord. It’s not right!”

“MUM!” She finally snapped. “I didn’t order this! It’s not mine. I don’t even know what it is!”

“Oh bless you Lord! Bless you!”

“Mum!” Alice couldn’t believe her mum had actually thought she was a satanic freak. She bent down to examine the box again. Supernatural? Well yeah it’s supernatural. Whoever bought this must be mental! She turned the box around in her hands. Oh. It’s a shirt…They’re probably still mental. I mean, who would put a pentagram on a bloody shirt? She looked at the original box again. “Mum, this isn’t my name.”

“What do you mean it isn’t your name? You put your name on it didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t my name.”

“Well, what’s it say?” she asked, peering over my shoulder.

“Jack Wallace. Brentwood, TN.” TN? Isn’t that Tennessee?  

“Tennessee? What’s a package for Tennessee doin’ here?”

Alice rummaged through the package again. Her fingers caught on a piece of folded paper and she pulled it out. “Well, here’s the order confirmation… should I call him?”

“I don’t want you doing that, he might be a madman!”

“But mum, what if he’s got my stuff?”

“It’s not worth it Alice, I’ll buy you a new one. Promise!”

“But mum!”

“No buts Alice! I don’t care how old you are, you’re still under my house and under my rules!”

Alice huffed and ran up another flight of stairs to her room, the paper inconspicuously hidden in the sleeve of her jumper. I need to get my stuff back. If this guy has it, I have to know! But…mum does have a point. What if he’s mental? She flung herself on her bed, twiddling her mobile in contemplation. If I do, and he does end up being a madman? What if he does some voodoo ritual on me over the telephone? What if mum finds out? But… What if he does end up having it?

Her mind made up, she grabbed the piece of paper and flipped open her phone.

It rang. Her breath caught. It rang again. She nearly fainted. It rang a third time and a deep, craggy voice cracked over the line.

“…Hello?”

Alice paused. She could hang up now and pretend this had never happened. She could go downstairs and finish making her tea, the kettle was already crying, and put up her cold feet while watching the BBC.

“Hello?” It came again. She hesitated.

“Look, whoever this is, it is way too early to be prank calling anyone so go back to bed and call back later!” She could feel him ready to hang up.

“Wait!”

“What?” annoyance dripping from the word.

“Um… uh… your package!”

“What about my…uh… package?” he almost choked out. “Who is this?”

What could she say? If he was a Satanist couldn’t he use her name to curse her or something?

“…I’m hanging up.” Jack had clearly had enough. For him, she realised, the sun wasn’t even up yet, all he probably wanted to do was sleep but Alice wasn’t about to let that happen. Not when he could have her precious package.

“No! Wait! Um, I’m sorry. I know it must be a weird time for me to ring, but I think I got the wrong um… delivery.”

“Oh, you’re British.”

“Yeah…” unsure of how to properly answer him. “Anyway, I got your—well I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I have it. Well I mean, I guess I know what it is, I just don’t know what it is, you know?” she was rambling, she could feel it. “But, um, I was just wondering if maybe you got something for me?”

“Yeah, a few choice words actually.” The annoyance was back in a force so strong it almost knocked her over. She struggled for the right words but only came back with, “I thought you southerners were supposed to be gentlemen. What happened to southern hospitality huh?” Winkler. I just want my stuff back!

“Southern hospitality starts promptly at sunrise and ends when someone has had one too many and is in bed with a bad hangover. Calling before five in the morning asking about my package is not going to earn you any points in my book either. Now, if you would be so kind, I would like to go back to bed. I’ve got church in a few hours and I don’t want my mom to know how late I’ve been out.”

“Satanists go to church?” Alice clamped her hand over her mouth. Bloody hell! I can’t believe I just said that!

“What!?”

“No, no! I mean, uh… what I meant was that um….”

“You think I’m a Satanist? Seriously? You don’t even know me! You just call me up in the middle of the night and start blabbering about my package? Fine. But you calling me a Satanist? Not okay.” She could feel the danger behind his words. She had clearly misunderstood.

“But… the pentagram.”

“What are you even talking about? What pentagram?”

“I got your package!” She nearly screamed. “I got your satanic flaming pentagram!”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say for yourself is ‘Oh’?”

“Well yeah. Don’t you watch Supernatural?”

“What?”

“Supernatural. It’s an American show.”

“And?”

“That pentagram is the show’s icon. Kinda like how…uh… what’s a British thing you might know… Sherlock Holmes! He’s known for his pipe and hat right? It’s like that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…you’re not a Satanist?”

“No, I’m a good church going boy. Or, I will be so long as my mom doesn’t skin me alive when she finds out what I did last night.”

“Oh, right. You should probably go to bed.”

“Well I would, but I just can’t seem to get off the phone.”

“Right. Sorry. One last thing, I promise!” His sigh made her old phone’s speaker pop. “If a package comes to you and it says Alice on it, of Baker’s St. in Brentwood, will you send it my way?”

“Oh, that police box thing?”

“ You got it?” Her heart hammered through her rib cage in excitement.

“Yeah, got here yesterday. I tore through it without thinking about it, sorry.”

“That’s okay, as long as it’s safe.”

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?”

“It’s a TARDIS.” The line went silent. “You…you do know what a TARDIS is, don’t you?”

“I’m gunna have to say no. What’s it do?”

“That one? It makes tea. The real one?” she sighed blissfully. “The real one can take you back. Back before the earth was the earth. When everything was peaceful and wonderful and new.”

“Seems important to you.”

“It is.”

“Well, I’ll make you a deal. If you let me get back to sleep, and you send my box to me, I will mail your box on Monday.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal” she laughed. She said her farewells and apologised for calling so early. She was so happy that it was finally coming home to her. The thing that gave her so much hope was finally going to be in her hands. She couldn’t wait till she could wrap her arms around it and pour herself a nice hot cuppa tea.

Just what the Doctor ordered.