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“I’m
what?”
Alice wasn’t sure why she had asked for further clarification. The word echoed in her brain, circling around her mind at a speed she couldn’t comprehend. She didn’t need it repeated; she was just in shock.
“Oh, Alice! That’s wonderful!”
The words falling from her mother’s lips were enough to pull her back to reality, enough to make her take in what the doctor had just said.
Pregnant
. She was
pregnant
. She looked at her mother, her mouth and eyes wide. She could see that her mother was amused by the crinkle of her brow. Usually, that would irritate her, but there was no space for irritation.
“I’ll leave you to help her understand that, Helen…” the doctor chuckled. He was used to this kind of reaction from his patients. Many women weren’t even trying for children and suddenly became pregnant. “I’m glad I was able to give such positive news. Makes a nice change. Make sure you book a check-up soon… We want to ensure that mother is healthy during this time.”
Alice was speechless. She brought her hand up, placing it over her stomach. In there was
life
. Actual life. A bit of her and a bit of…
“Tarrant will be thrilled!”
When Helen said her husband’s name, she began to feel a little bit sick. She couldn’t be sure if that was because of the mention of Tarrant or whether it was just the sickness she’d been feeling for weeks now rearing its ugly head again.
“Yes… Yes, he will be. I just- Oh, goodness…”
“What is it?” Helen was concerned now. This should have been some of the best news Alice had ever received, but she seemed more concerned about how Tarrant would respond. “You don’t think he’ll be pleased?”
“Mother, stop worrying; I already said he would be!”
“Well, you don’t seem very pleased!”
Alice sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I am, I just… I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.”
Helen laughed. “The words should just fall from your lips quite easily. ‘Tarrant, I’m pregnant! You’re going to be a father!’ See? Not too difficult at all! That was more or less how I told your father.”
Alice chewed her lip. It wasn’t as if getting messages through to Wonderland was easy. Of course, she could just go and tell him, but… What if that did something to the baby? What if her way of journeying to Wonderland involved a hard thump on the ground? The baby could be hurt. She couldn’t risk it. She also couldn’t just abandon Tarrant for nine months with no explanation… There was only one thing she could do.
“Mother… I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do you promise?”
Helen looked confused, one eyebrow raised. “Yes…”
“And you must try your best not to think that I’m mad. Yes?”
“… Yes… Darling, what is it?” She was starting to get worried. It wasn’t like Alice to be so serious. That suggested something was wrong.
“Remember when I was placed in the institution?”
Helen winced. That was a painful memory for her. After all, she had let it happen… She knew she had more than made up for it by assisting Alice in her escape, but it still wasn’t her proudest moment. She nodded to show that she did indeed remember.
“And I kept talking about all those strange and bizarre things?”
Again, Helen nodded.
“Well… Oh, goodness, I don’t know how to say this…”
“Alice, please just say whatever you need to say. You’re really starting to worry me, and we should be celebrating.”
Finally, Alice blurted out, “That was all real!”
Helen paused. Then, she went to speak but couldn’t find the words. Then, she frowned.
She settled on, “What?”
Alice chewed her lip. Honestly, that was the best reaction she could have expected. Her mother could have just left the room. She could have just shouted at her. She could have just called her crazy. Alice would accept a ‘What?’.
“Mother, Wonderland is real… That’s where I’ve been disappearing to sometimes… To spend time down there.”
Helen decided that Alice must be joking around with her. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of causing her distress, or giving her any adverse reaction, or believing it to be real, so she had to play along.
“Right. And just why would you spend so much time down there?”
“Because that’s where Tarrant’s from, mother. You thought he was strange, and you were right. He’s not from our world.”
Helen hated how much a small part of her thought that this made sense. Tarrant did indeed seem otherworldly, and she’d never been able to see his home despite her many requests. Something had always come up.
“Alice, you must understand that I can’t believe you.”
“I do understand that. I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
Alice stood up, and Helen went to stop her before remembering that Alice wasn’t exactly heavily pregnant yet. She didn’t need to be on bed rest. She watched as Alice cradled her stomach again, and was pleased to see a smile on her lips. Maybe this was all just Alice in shock and she would stop spouting such nonsense soon.
Alice didn’t apologise for being strange, though. She didn’t reveal the whole thing as a well-thought-out joke. Instead, she went to her bag which was hanging on the door and pulled out an object.
As soon as her gaze fixed on it for the first time, Helen was trapped. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. The object was an obsidian colour but not dull. She was sure that if man could go into space, this was what it would look like. The light glimmered on the object to make it appear like speckled stars in the night sky. Alice had never shown this to her before.
“What is that?”
Alice held it close as she spoke, clearly fearing someone might try to take it away from her. It was almost like a mother with a child.
“It’s called the Prism of Perception, Mother. It comes from Wonderland.”
“Oh, again, with this Wonderland! Really, Alice, you’re going to be a mother soon, you need to stop with this-“
She was cut off as Alice tapped her foot against the fireplace which seemed to wobble at her touch. The stone was behaving as Helen would expect water to behave… Not stone.
“Nonsense…”
Helen pulled a chair over to the fireplace and sat before it, watching Alice dip her foot into the ground. She was dipping her foot into the ground! Her foot kept disappearing beneath the watery stone and emerging again completely dry. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised it was dry - of course it would be: stone wasn’t wet. Then again, stone also didn’t let people move it aside as Alice was doing.
Helen reached out her own foot, slowly lowering it until it was hovering above what had formally been a relatively standard fireplace.
“Go on, Mother. It’s easier for me to show you rather than convince you with words.” Alice was watching her, her forehead crinkled with concern at how she would handle this information.
Helen didn’t take her eyes off her foot as she dipped her toe. She gasped. Her foot pushed through the coal like she was stepping into a bath. Her face immediately fell, and she could tell Alice was panicking slightly.
“Mother! Are you alright? Is it hurting you?” It wasn’t hurting Alice, but what if she was special? What if Wonderland could only call out to her?
“I’ve gone mad. You’ve given me your madness.”
Alice blinked. Then, she laughed, relieved that her mother wasn’t in pain at all. That had been a source of worry for a moment there.
“Mother… I am sorry, but you’ve not gone mad. In fact, you’re now slightly less mad because you know more about the world than you did before.”
Helen looked at Alice as she dropped her foot further into the fireplace. She decided that maybe, just maybe, her foot was broken, and she just couldn’t feel it. She got off her chair and got onto her knees, something she rarely did nowadays as it was becoming more challenging for her to stand up again.
Meanwhile, Alice returned to her bed and sat on it, quite content to watch her mother try to figure this out for herself. She was used to seeing her mother calm and composed, so seeing this side of her was somewhat entertaining.
Helen poked the fireplace. Just like her foot, it went through the coal. This time, she could feel the energy pulsing around her finger, almost begging her to come closer. She kept going until her hand was fully submerged in the fireplace (a thought she never thought would cross her mind).
“What is this?”
Alice laughed again, pleased that her mother was calming down a little. Calm enough to be able to ask questions, anyway… And not immediately declaring both of them absolutely insane.
“It’s a gate, mother… A gate to Wonderland… And I need you to go through it.”
The words Alice said kept getting madder and madder. “You need me to
what?”
“I need you to go through it,” Alice repeated, a pleading tone to her voice. “Some of the times I’ve gone through, I’ve fallen, and fallen, and fallen, and finally reached the ground… I can’t risk doing that with the baby… And Tarrant needs to know.”
Helen was starting to feel a little nauseous. This was altogether a little bit too much for her to handle. First of all, her daughter was pregnant. Then, she was spouting nonsense about the existence of this Wonderland. Next, parts of her body were going
through the fireplace
… And now, Alice wanted her to go to this Wonderland to tell her husband she was pregnant?
“Mother,
please
. He’ll be worried about me if he doesn’t hear from me… He’ll assume the worst.” Tarrant often assumed the worst when he didn’t hear from Alice for even a minute too long. He’d grown entirely used to having her by his side.
Helen refused to look at her daughter, instead focusing on the fireplace. She knew that if she looked at Alice, she’d surrender. Alice knew this, too.
“Mother, look at me…”
Helen exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of her chair as if it could anchor her to reality. Her world was shifting beneath her feet.
No,
being ripped apart at the seams.
Wonderland was real. Alice hadn’t been delusional after all.
She had spent years convincing herself otherwise, dismissing it as a child’s fantasy that had spiralled too far. That had been easier than facing the truth: that her daughter had experienced something beyond her understanding, something that had once cost Alice so dearly.
And now, she was being asked to believe in it. To step into it.
Helen looked at the fireplace again, watching the unnatural way the stone rippled like liquid beneath Alice’s touch. Her stomach churned. Could she really do this? What if this was all some elaborate trick? What if stepping in meant she would
never
come back?
But then, she turned to Alice.
Her daughter, so strong, so sure. The gentle curve of her hand over her stomach. The raw, desperate hope in her eyes.
Helen swallowed hard.
Her fear didn’t matter. Alice
needed
her.
She let out a slow breath, forcing her muscles to relax. “Alright, Alice.”
Relief seemed to flood Alice’s body, and Helen was glad she could provide that… even if she wasn’t sure she believed in any of this yet.
“Thank you… You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“So, I just… Step into the fireplace?” It was a sentence she never thought she’d speak, yet here she was. “And I’ll be in-“ She winced slightly, the word not wanting to leave her lips.
“Wonderland, yes. Hopefully, you won’t fall… I can’t promise, but I’ve tried my hardest.”
“And when I get there?”
“Ask for the Mad Hatter.”
Helen scoffed. She wasn’t at all surprised that that was what Tarrant went by in his own world.
“I assume he isn’t really a hatter, then…”
“No, no!” Alice was quick to defend her husband. “Of course he is - you’ve seen his hats.” Her mother still looked suspicious, and Alice gave a coy smile. “Though not for the Queen of England… For the White Queen.”
The White Queen. “Right.”
“I’m sorry, mother, I just didn’t want to turn your world upside down.”
“And inside out.” Her brain certainly felt sore from all these revelations. “Just to be certain… I go into the fireplace and find Tarrant… Or, rather, the
Mad Hatter
.” She said those words with slight disdain.
“Tell him I’ll have made a gate in our normal place… Then, come back with him, and you can try to forget this ever happened… Or, you can let it colour the rest of your life.”
Helen sighed. Alice would forever owe her for this, and she would undoubtedly remind her whenever Alice was slightly rude.
“I promise you’ll be alright. I’ve made the journey dozens and dozens of times.”
Helen nodded, turning her focus to the fireplace. She dropped her legs into it so they were inside the fireplace - a thought she still wasn’t used to - and prepared to jump.
“I love you.”
Alice’s words brought a smile to her face for the first time since she’d started spouting all of this nonsense.
“I love you, too. I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”
With that, she dropped herself in.
A large part of Helen had expected to wake up when she’d fallen into the fireplace. Expected to bolt out of bed, sweat trickling down her forehead, just as she did when she usually had strange dreams.
Instead, she felt
stretched,
her body elongating like a ribbon pulled taut; then, it snapped back together as if she had never moved at all. Her skin tingled, a strange warmth rushing through her veins, followed by a weightlessness that made her stomach lurch. She gasped, reaching out for something -
anything -
but there was nothing to hold onto.
Then, all at once, gravity seized her, dragging her downward.
She landed
hard
, her knees striking what should have been dirt but felt oddly soft, like a living cushion. Her fingers dug into it instinctively, meeting not soil but something warm and pulsing beneath her palms. It was like stepping onto the belly of some great, slumbering beast.
Helen shuddered, forcing herself upright, but her legs trembled as if the ground itself wasn’t certain it wanted to support her. The air tasted strange… thicker, laced with something floral and electric, tingling against the roof of her mouth.
This was real.
She groaned and rubbed her knees, which had taken quite the brunt of the fall. She really was too old for all of this. Slowly, she pushed herself up, using a… Giant mushroom to ground herself.
After that, she looked around.
She felt like she’d stepped into a fantastical painting brought to life. She found herself in a forest, the air charged with an otherworldly energy. The trees were not merely trees as they were in her own world; they were sculptures with twisting branches that seemed to reach for the sky in playful defiance of gravity. Strange luminescent creatures flitted among the branches, leaving trails of sparkling pixie dust in their wake.
The foliage around the base of the marble trees carried an array of colours not found in any earthly forest - vibrant purples, blues, and pinks that created the most fantastic image. The path beneath her felt soft, almost as if it was made of a plush, living carpet that responded to her movements with a gentle bounce.
Helen swallowed thickly. She took several deep breaths, trying to reassure herself that this was alright. She wasn’t mad. This was real. She was safe.
Was she safe? She often visited new places, but they all had something familiar about them… This was something else entirely. What if there was danger? She was alone.
She decided that she had to be brave. She had to find Tarrant. With that thought, she took her first step, unsure what direction to go but hoping Wonderland wasn’t that vast.
After what felt like a rather long time walking, Helen decided she was wrong. Wonderland had to be colossal: she hadn’t even left the forest yet.
She started panicking again until a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Is that a-“
“It’s not an Alice.”
“But it’s not
not
an Alice!”
“It’s not an Alice!”
“It looks like an Alice!”
Slowly, Helen turned around, and her breath caught in her throat.
Two identical
things
loomed before her - too round, too large, their proportions just slightly wrong. Their heads were bulbous, their bodies too soft and heavy at once, like overfilled sacks of flour about to split. Their faces - small, too small - were pinched and puckered in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
Helen took a step back, her stomach twisting in discomfort.
They weren’t just strange. They were
unnatural.
If she had seen them in a carnival funhouse, she might have thought them clever illusions. But here, standing in the shifting half-light of this uncanny forest, there was nothing playful about them.
She pressed a hand to her stomach as if grounding herself in something real.
Almost human
, she thought.
Almost.
Wait, but hadn’t they said-
“You know Alice?” She finally managed to enquire, forcing herself to calm down. If they knew Alice, that meant they were friends, not foes. Perhaps they knew Tarrant as well.
“Of course!”
“We know Alice very well.”
“I knew her first, surely.”
“Nonsense! It was me who stumbled across her first. She was intrigued by my profound wisdom, you know.”
“Your so-called wisdom? Ha! It was my charming wit that captivated her right from the start!”
“Charming wit? More like a confusing muddle of words. Alice appreciated my clarity of thought, not your nonsensical banter.”
“Nonsensical? I don’t think you can-“
“Boys!”
That stern voice of a mother stopped the two of them in their tracks. She hadn’t expected that to work. “I’m not here to listen to you bicker. I have-“
“Who are you?” They both spoke in unison this time, and Helen found that slightly more unnerving than when they had been arguing.
“I’m Helen Kingsleigh.”
“Kingsleigh?”
“But that would mean-“
“It surely would mean that, but how would that-“
“How would she have-“
Helen sighed, rubbing her temple. This was exhausting. She felt like her own two children were young again.
“Do you know how to find Tarrant?”
“Who?” the one on the left spoke, but both their heads tilted to the left as they pondered her question.
Helen frowned, hoping she wouldn’t have to say it, but resigning herself to the fact. “The Mad Hatter.” The words felt absolutely foreign on her lips.
“Ah! Yes!” They both spoke again. But then, they spoke at opposites.
“Right!”
“Left!”
“Right, I say! The Hatter lives in the peculiar patch of madness to the right.”
“Nonsense! It’s undoubtedly to the left. His abode awaits us in that direction.”
“Left? Are you mad? Right is the only way! I remember it vividly.”
“Your memory is as tangled as your words! Left-“
“I’m afraid they won’t be much help, Mrs Kingsleigh…”
Helen was startled when a third voice entered the conversation, and turned to where she thought it was coming from. She frowned. There was nothing there. All she could hear was the two monsters fighting behind her.
“Up here, dear…”
She lifted her gaze, and her breath turned to ice in her lungs.
A smile hung in the air.
Not a face. Not a body. Just… teeth.
Helen froze, unable to look away as the mouth twisted upward, stretching wider than any human’s should. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs - surely something like that shouldn’t be able to exist. And yet, the longer she stared, the more
real
it became.
Then, slowly, impossibly, the rest of him began to materialise.
Limbs swirled into place like curling ink in water. His fur - not quite solid, not quite smoke - rippled and shimmered as if it existed on the edge of reality itself. And when his eyes blinked into being - unblinking, glowing slits of knowing amusement - Helen shivered.
It wasn’t just that he could disappear. It was the feeling that he could choose not to return at all.
“Ah, now this
is
interesting,” the Cat purred, his voice slipping into her ears like silk. “You are
not
an Alice.”
Helen swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be.
“And you’re a cat.”
“The Cheshire Cat, ma’am… You’re a long way from home.”
She bristled, not wanting to give the impression that she was thoroughly out of place here. She didn’t want to look weak.
“I’m looking for-“
“Tarrant, yes, I heard… I’ll be able to help you with that. Tweedles?”
“Yes?” They both ceased arguing, looking up at their lifelong friend with wide eyes.
“You’re both wrong. It’s this way.” After speaking those words, he drifted down from the tree, resting beside Helen. She stared at him. A flying, purple, grinning, talking cat. Her brain was certainly going into overdrive. “Follow me…”
He disappeared, and Helen was immediately frustrated that she had been left alone with these two once more. However, he reappeared further along a fork in the path, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She hurried along to follow him, heading the sounds of the Tweedles (as the cat had called them) stomping along behind her.
“Is Alice alright?”
Helen cleared her throat, fearing that her voice would be nothing more than a squeak otherwise. “Yes, yes, she’s fine… She just wasn’t able to come herself and wanted me to tell Tarrant something.”
“Must be pretty important for Alice to trust you to come… What is it?”
“It’s really none of your concern - it’s for Tarrant only.”
“Fair enough.” He disappeared again, only providing her with a grin to follow. She was sure she had offended him, though that grin still didn’t disappear. Was he capable of being offended? Did that grin ever go away?
They walked for what felt like hours, and Helen knew she was going mad. The twins barely stopped to take a breath the whole time. She didn’t know how Alice could handle it; clearly, she had the patience of a saint. She hadn’t got that from her so she must have got it from her father.
Finally, though, they came to a clearing. There was a long wooden table with dainty seats positioned all around it. The inhabitants of those chairs had Helen rubbing her eyes for the thousandth time, something she’d started doing whenever she saw something that really should be impossible.
There were two rabbits and a… mouse? She wasn’t sure what that animal was. She hadn’t seen one before. All three were staring at her as if she had two heads. She couldn’t help but feel offended - they were the strange ones here, not her!
At the head of the table sat a more familiar figure. Instantly, a wave of relief spread through her body, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
On the other hand, Tarrant was looking incredibly concerned.
His
eyes.
Helen had never truly studied them before, not in the way she was doing now, and it startled her how
unearthly
they were. They weren’t just
green
- they were
alive
, swirling with colour like sunlight fractured through emerald glass. And when he blinked, the hue shifted, flickering between vibrant chartreuse and something far darker, deeper, almost gold.
His entire being felt slightly off as though he weren’t entirely shaped by the same rules as the rest of them. The high collar of his coat framed his pale face, the fabric rich and textured in ways that defied logic, patterns shifting subtly when she looked away. Even the air around him felt… charged, as if madness itself hummed beneath his skin.
He stood abruptly, crossing the table as if weight meant nothing to him, crouching at the end with a flickering intensity.
“Helen?” His voice was softer now, coaxing. “What are you doing here? Is Alice alright?
She swallowed. Whatever hesitation she’d had about Wonderland, it was clear: Tarrant belonged here in a way no man ever could in her world.
“Yes… Yes, Alice is fine. I, on the other hand…” She was feeling rather faint - she wasn’t used to walking so much. Her legs felt like they were going to collapse under her.
“Oh, goodness, of course! Come, come!” He jumped down from the table and offered her his arm, which she gratefully took. He walked her around the table and seated her next to his own seat, placing her beside the mouse and opposite the two rabbits. “I can’t believe you’re here! Why are you here?”
“I’m sorry, Tarrant, but are we going to be introduced?” One of the rabbits spoke up, pulling a pocket watch out of his jacket and gazing at it. “Alice is due… Who has she sent in her place?”
“Helen Kingsleigh,” she offered. She accepted the cup from Tarrant, her fingers grazing smooth, impossibly delicate porcelain that felt like it might dissolve if she held it too tightly. She watched as Tarrant poured the liquid, expecting the familiar deep amber of tea; instead, it shimmered, shifting between gold and deep violet as it caught the light.
Her stomach twisted in hesitation, but she took a sip anyway.
Warmth
spread through her chest instantly - not just from the heat, but something deeper, richer, as if the tea carried laughter and secrets within it. The taste was floral, a little spicy, with a sweetness that lingered on the top of her tongue. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… different. She swallowed and took another cautious sip, reassured that at least tea, in whatever form, still existed here.
“Kingsleigh? As in-“
“Yes, McTwisp, this is my mother-in-law,” Tarrant confirmed, holding a plate of pastries to Helen. She took one and bit into it, unable to resist a slight hum of approval. Far more delicious than anything she’d had in the real world. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to have it again.
“Oh, how exquisite! You really produced a wonderful woman,” the rabbit - who she now knew was called McTwisp - praised, sitting up straighter and giving her a smile.
“Oh, yes, I know… Alice is the best of myself and her father,” Helen agreed, feeling a surge of pride. She wondered what her husband would make of all this. He would have accepted it far better than she. “What makes you say that, though?”
“She’s a living legend around these parts!” McTwisp explained, handing a pastry to the other rabbit, who was looking far more stressed than anyone else. Was her presence causing that? “She has saved Underland multiple times now.”
“Saved? My Alice?”
“Certainly, Helen,” Tarrant nodded, sitting in his seat, which was elevated above the others. She assumed he was the organiser of these little tea parties. Rather adorable. “Alice is our Champion. She has fought for us often.” Helen blinked rapidly. Her daughter? Fighting? That wasn’t for a woman to do… Then again, much of what Alice did wasn’t exactly womanly.
“Speaking of Alice… Why has she sent you here?” Tarrant’s wide eyes fixed on her, his brow furrowed in concern for his wife.
“Ah, yes.” Helen cleared her throat, frowning. “She wasn’t able to come herself because-“
“Is she sick?” Helen turned her head to the mouse who had spoken. She had become too used to the fact that animals just seemed to talk here. “Surely not! The slayer of the jabberwocky cannot succumb to sickness!”
“If I were just allowed to speak for a moment, I would explain!”
Everyone went quiet after that. Finally, a moment of quiet. She hadn’t had that since arriving in this strange place.
She turned to Tarrant. “Tarrant, my dear… Alice is pregnant.”
The silence continued until it was broken by a tiny squeak from the man her daughter had married. Helen couldn’t help but be amused.
“She’s pregnant?” McTwisp repeated. Then, he smiled widely at Tarrant, who had become strangely quiet. “Tarrant, that’s wonderful news! You’re going to be a father!”
That broke him out of his spell.
“A… father?” he whispered, still looking at Helen as if waiting for her to say that this had all been an elaborate prank. “Me? But I can’t… Me?”
“Yes,” Helen assured him. “You. The doctor came this morning… Alice was worried about what coming here could do to the baby so she sent me to tell you.”
“Oh!” Colour (what little of it there was usually) was coming back into his features, and he slowly smiled. “The baby… The baby! A baby!
Our
baby! Oh, this is marvellous!”
He jumped out of his seat and stood on the table. What came next was one of the strangest things Helen had seen since coming to Wonderland. His limbs twisted and turned, his head spun around, and she was amazed.
“This is his happy dance,” McTwisp explained, amusement evident in his tone. Helen laughed. She couldn’t do anything but. The whole situation was somewhat laughable.
Congratulations continued to pour in from the other tea party guests, the numbers of which had increased with the addition of the Cheshire Cat and the Tweedles.
The whole thing made Helen understand something about Alice. She had always assumed her daughter was lonely as she didn’t seem to have many companions in their world. She was realising, however, that it was because she had a community in Wonderland. She did seem to drop off the face of the earth sometimes, and it was clearly to be with her friends down here. She was just glad she wouldn’t need to worry anymore.
Suddenly, Tarrant came to a stop and blinked. “Oh, I need to see her!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together gleefully. “And our baby! Oh, this is excellent news!” Then, he frowned. “But how to see her? She controls the gates.”
“Ah,” Helen exhaled, taking another sip of tea. She was beginning to feel rather at home with these welcoming… animals. Her body was relaxed, and she was enjoying the delicious food. “She asked me to relay a message that she would open a gate at ‘the usual place’. Do you know where that is?”
Tarrant beamed. Alice truly thought of everything (which was necessary as he thought of nothing but madness and Alice). He jumped off the table, his coat flying out behind him momentarily. He had always tried to seem earthly (which made less sense to think before; now it was apparent why he seemed so odd), but he had always sported a similar coat in duller colours. “Indeed, I do. Will you accompany me, Helen?”
“Well, I have no intentions of remaining here, so of course.” Helen took his hand, which was offered to her, and pulled herself up, glancing at the other tea party members. They were all beaming (with the exception of the rather nervous-looking rabbit who was tugging on his ears).
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Kingsleigh,” McTwisp spoke up, bouncing slightly in his seat. She offered him a smile in return. “Please pass our congratulations on to Alice.”
“Of course. Thank you for your hospitality,” Helen expressed, linking her arm with Tarrant’s even though she wasn’t feeling faint anymore. She just appreciated the reassurance of a familiar figure. “I’ve never eaten such delicious food.”
“You should try an Upelkuchen,” the Cheshire Cat added, his wicked grin never dissipating. The rest of the guests laughed wildly, and Helen suddenly felt left out of a joke and frowned.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Helen,” Tarrant placed a hand over hers and smiled brightly. “It’s a cake that makes you grow larger.”
“Grow… larger…?” Oh, this world was strange. The idea made her stomach turn wildly. She didn’t want to think about any of this for too long and shook her head wildly. “Can we return home, Tarrant?”
“Why, this is my home! And Alice’s for a significant portion of the year,” Tarrant pointed out, his smile dwindling slightly. She felt momentarily guilty, as if she had caused him some offence. It wasn’t her fault, though: she was still getting used to the idea that her world wasn’t the only one.
“Alright, can we return to
my
home?”
“That, we can do.” He turned to his friends and bowed slightly, maintaining his contact with Helen. “Farewell, friends. I don’t know when I will return but I will!”
The mouse laughed. “Of course you will, Hatter - you’d go mad if you stayed up there!”
He’d go mad? He was already mad! And her world was far more normal. Perhaps he would become un-mad!
Oh, this place was getting to her.
Sensing her discomfort, Tarrant began to guide her down a path, and she couldn’t help but smile at his evident joy. She remembered her husband’s excitement when she told him of her first pregnancy and how he had been unable to take his hands off her stomach until Margaret was born. She had a feeling Tarrant would be similarly devoted.
The journey back felt shorter than the one there, though that was simply because Helen had an eager companion rather than two bickering Tweedles and a floating menace of a cat. Tarrant practically
skipped
beside her, his excitement radiating like warmth from a hearth. He hummed to himself, occasionally letting out a delighted giggle as if unable to contain the happiness bubbling inside him.
Helen would never admit it, but his enthusiasm was… endearing.
As they approached the designated meeting place, a shimmer of air flickered, like heat haze over cobblestone streets. A gateway was forming, swirling with light that flickered between blues and purples, a touch of gold at its centre.
And then, just beyond it, Alice.
She was pacing, arms folded protectively over her stomach, but the moment she saw them, relief washed over her face like a wave breaking against the shore.
Tarrant froze beside Helen. His breath caught, his entire frame going still before he bolted forward, practically leaping through the portal before it had fully solidified.
Alice barely had time to react before she was scooped into his arms. He didn’t speak at first, just held her tight, rocking slightly on the spot. Then, with an almost reverent touch, he pulled back, dropping down to his knees before her. His hands hovered just above her stomach, hesitant.
“May I?” His voice was softer than Helen had ever heard it.
Alice laughed, placing her hands over his and pressing them against her. “Of course.”
Tarrant sucked in a breath as if the mere thought of their child existing overwhelmed him. “Oh, Alice…” His fingers curled slightly like he was cradling something invisible. “Our baby.” He whispered the words like a secret, like a treasure only now uncovered.
Helen stepped through the portal, watching the scene unfold before her. There was a tenderness in how Tarrant looked at Alice, a devotion she had never quite allowed herself to believe. Yet, here it was, undeniable.
Real.
Alice caught her mother’s gaze over Tarrant’s head and smiled gratefully.
Helen simply shook her head and sighed. “Well, I suppose this madness is hereditary…”
Tarrant grinned up at her, his eyes alight. “Oh, Helen…
you have no idea.”
As Helen lay in bed that night, she expected the day's strangeness to dissipate. Surely, with a night’s rest, her mind would untangle itself, rationalising what had happened into something comprehensible.
And yet…
Just as sleep was about to calm her, something stirred in the corner of her vision. A flicker of movement. A whisper of laughter. She sat up quickly, heart hammering… but there was nothing there.
Nothing except the faintest trace of shimmering dust on her fingertips, glowing for a fraction of a second before fading into the dark.
Helen exhaled slowly. Then, against all logic, against every lesson she had taught herself about reality, she smiled.
“Madness,” she murmured.
But she wasn’t so sure anymore.