So I got stuck thinking more and more about poor Alice alone for seven years… It kind of feels like the start of a whole different story from my Random Robin thoughts… we shall see.

It was just a room. Four walls. She could walk from one side to the other in thirty steps. When her Papa was here it had felt bigger. Rather than him taking up space, he brought all the outside in with him.

Now it was only Alice.

When Gothel poisoned her Papa's heart and threw him from the tower Alice had screamed for him until she was hoarse. Alice had cried buckets of tears until her pillow was soaked. Alice had lay in bed unmoving as daylight faded and night-time came wishing and wishing that her Papa would come back. That is when Alice realised she was truly all alone. The only person who could visit now was Mother Gothel and that was the last thing she wanted.

When morning came ten-year-old Alice climbed out of bed and began the first day of the rest of her life… all alone.

Alice decided she would try and do what she would do if Papa had been here. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so lonely.

First thing every morning, after getting dressed, Papa would brush her hair, one hundred strokes. Alice had slept in her clothes, but she picked up her hairbrush and brushed and brushed her hair until it was neat and straight.

Next they would have breakfast. Papa would often bring her surprises from the outside world; bacon and eggs, syrup for pancakes. Now Alice could only rely on the magic cupboard, enchanted by the same magic that had brought her into the world. The cupboard supplied food by colour, on red days it meant strawberries, steak and tomatoes, on orange days; marmalade, chicken and carrots. That morning a green apple sat on the shelf alongside a mug of green tea. Alice's heart sank it would be peas and cabbage for dinner tonight.

Breakfast was always followed by some kind of exercise. When Papa was there they would dance to her music box, sword fight, rope skip… Papa always said teaching your body to be clever was just as important teaching your mind. The only thing Alice wanted to do was run. She couldn't escape her prison, but she raced from wall to wall, charging at them and bouncing off the surfaces in a new direction, not minding if it left bruises. It felt cathartic; like a secret anger, her sorrow had drowned when her Papa was taken, was awake and understood.

Alice ran until she was hot and breathless. She looked out of the window while she caught her breath. The sun had barely risen past the sill. It was still morning and she had a whole day to get through, all alone. Alice stood staring outside for a good long moment wondering where her Papa was and if he was okay.

Realising she was about to start crying again Alice tried to think of something else to do. Papa often gave her lessons after breakfast too. He said she was smart and she should never stop thinking and learning. Lessons mostly involved art, writing stories for her Papa, going over star charts and navigation or reading the dictionary. Alice didn't feel like painting or writing so she picked up the dictionary and began reading through the 'D's. Mr Rabbit, her favourite toy, was sat on the armchair so she picked him up and snuggled him as she read. She found a lot of new words she hadn't understood before, but they stood out now as she read: dejected, demoralised, depressed, deserted, despondent, destroyed, devastated, disappointed, discarded, discounted, discouraged, disheartened, dismal, dismayed, disregarded, distraught, down, down-cast, downhearted, dumped…

"This lesson is really depressing…" said Mr Rabbit, Alice giving him the same deep plummy voice her Papa did when they were playing. Alice looked at her toy bunny, his sad expression matched her own.

"We should do something fun…" Her toy suggested, and Alice had to agree.Papa always said to look on the bright side - life's too short to have regrets. True it was hard to find a bright side right now, but she should do something better than 'demoralising' herself with the dictionary. Although she felt guilty about not finishing her lessons Alice decided she would gather her toys, the only friend's she had left to confide in, and they would have a house meeting to decide what they should do.

Her toys watched in anticipation as Mr Rabbit called the meeting. Alice had sat them around the small round dinner table and set up a tea party as well. Mr Hatter rested on her right. Then were her two dolls, Dolly, which her father had brought her when she was six, and Duchess Petunia who had come just last year. Teddy sat beside them, although she kept him away from the sandwiches as he could be greedy. Then Mr Rabbit sat on her left. Now that Papa was gone he was the most sensible of her friends, so it would make sense that he would chair the meeting.

As it was a green day the tea-time spread the cupboard supplied was rather depressing; salad sandwiches and lime cordial.

Together with her toys Alice came up with a plan to help the days pass. All she really wanted to do was curl up and cry but she couldn't do that. She had to be ready for when her Papa came back with the cure. She had to be brave. Papa always said she was the bravest girl he had ever met, so Alice was going to prove him right.

So far the morning had passed with Alice following the routine her Papa had started. So she got out a piece of paper and wrote down how she would spend her day. If routine helped, then every day would be routine until she felt normal again.

Slots of time were rigidly set, for meals, for lessons, for stories, for chess, for play. At that sad little tea party Alice unknowingly set down the blueprint for her next seven years.

Alice lost herself in the routine, just getting by. She would mutter her Papa's good advice under her breath when she got stuck finding the good or happy side of things. Some days when she was lonely she would dress up in her father's cloak and old boots, stomping around the tower, putting on his voice, regaling her toys in her Papa's adventures while he travelled the seven seas looking for a cure for his heart. Soon she'd spent much time putting on his voice the clipped English tones he had painstakingly taught her drifted into a version of her own Papa's voice.

Oh, but there were bad days. Some days she just could not bear to leave her bed; some days she would just sit and stare out of the window looking for the sight of something new; some nights she cried herself to sleep; sometimes she would stare at the wicked spiral scar on her wrist and try to scratch it away…

There were good days too. Like when a bird flew into the window to eat the crumbs from her tea party; a new friend for however short a time it stayed. Or when the rain would fall like stair-rods. The racket it made on the roof became a new symphony in Alice's quiet lonely world, making her laugh and sing as the trees outside her windows danced with the falling water. Or when the snow fell in winter, the fire would roar in the fireplace and outside the whole world turned white. She would lean against the magic barrier and let her cheek feel the cold outside…

As the season's changed and the years slowly passed there came some surprises that come with growing up. When she was thirteen she spent a whole two weeks uncontrollably angry at everything. She'd thrown furniture out of the window, broke cups, screamed and tore at her hair. Each morning the tower fixed itself. The rage only stopped when in her fury she threw her Papa's White Knight chess piece out of the window along with her shoes. She had spent the whole rest of the day panicking that tower wouldn't bring it back. It did… and the fear and gratitude seemed to mellow her anger.

Her body began changing too. Her only guide to this was a naughty book Alice had found buried in the bottom of her Papa's chest. It was about people doing things she didn't quite understand to each other but it did explain about the new hair she was growing and the bumps growing on her chest. She was becoming a woman, only Alice wasn't sure it was worth the pain.

Alice existed alone in her tower, growing up in an unwanted isolation until her seventeenth birthday.

It was to be a purple day. The cupboard gave her a purple cupcake and blackcurrant tea and she sat up until midnight waiting for the day to change and for her birthday to begin. She watched the stars anticipating the moment in excitement. Then she lit a candle on her cupcake. She made a birthday wish with all her heart. The same wish she made every year, but her dreams and deeper senses made her so sure this year was the moment her wish could come true…