Giles walks away from her into the middle of the room, taps the tracker twice, just as Harvey had indicated, and says, ‘Who am I and what am I doing here?’ Then he grins, pleased with himself. ‘Got to follow the signals, right? You saw him tap—’
‘Wow,’ Tiggy says, cutting him off. ‘Look!’ She points behind him to the bare expanse of wall, which is not bare anymore but covered in green writing – more of it being added as it goes. Lucy turns round to look at another wall, and the writing follows.
‘What the . . . ?’ Scott puts a hand in front of his face, then takes it away. ‘I can still see it when I cover my eyes. You guys—’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lucy says, feeling a prickle of panic inching down her spine. ‘Giles, can you . . .’ She lets the sentence trail off. Everyone is standing still now, staring in different places, their expressions ranging from alarm to wonder.
All except Amelia, who is whirling around, looking from one wall to the next. Tapping at her watch. ‘I don’t see it,’ she says, her voice rising in pitch. ‘What are you all seeing?’
‘It’s bright green,’ Tiggy says. ‘How can you not see it?’
‘What’s bright green?’ Amelia walks briskly over to Tiggy, stares in the same direction. ‘I can’t see it.’
‘“Name – Giles Horner,”’ James starts reading aloud. ‘“Age – twenty-eight. Nationality – British.”’
Scott takes over. ‘“Current residence – Chelsea, London, UK. Marital status—”’
‘“In a relationship,”’ says Tiggy. She turns to Amelia. ‘You really can’t see this?’ She pauses, her eyes widening. ‘Woah. Now I can see it on your face.’
Amelia grabs her shoulder. ‘See what? I don’t understand!’ Tiggy takes a small step back, and Amelia lets go of her. She jabs at her watch, her face pinched in annoyance.
Lucy takes a step towards her. ‘There’s writing,’ she says. ‘Green writing. It’s written like a list of vital stats – like the kind of thing that pops up on a video game.’
‘“Job – games designer, YouTuber, influencer,”’ Giles reads. He’s grinning. ‘This is really cool. “Why you’re here – to critically assess the components of the game.”’ He pauses, uses both hands to smooth his hair up to his bun. ‘See, I told you guys it was some sort of game.’
Lucy keeps watching as the cursor blinks . . . waiting.
‘This is so cool,’ Tiggy says. ‘Isn’t it amazing that it’s coming from our trackers? It’s like some weird sci-fi thing. Or like that series, what’s it called . . . ?’
‘Black Mirror,’ James says. ‘Right? Although I can’t believe it’s coming from our trackers. It’s some kind of trick. Has to be . . .’
‘Amelia can’t see it, though, can she?’ Scott says, turning to face Amelia, who is silent now, her mouth etched into a tight line. She shakes her head, and Lucy thinks she can see her eyes start to fill with tears.
‘This is because my stupid tracker doesn’t work, isn’t it?’
‘Did you try tapping your watch? Maybe it just has to get transmitted a different way,’ Lucy says.
‘You saw me try that,’ Amelia says, pressing on her watch again.
The cursor stops blinking at the base of Giles’s list, and more green type appears.
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: GROWING OLD
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU TOLD TIGGY YOU WERE AT CAMERON HEALY’S 30TH BIRTHDAY PARTY LAST SATURDAY WHEN IN FACT YOU WERE WITH JULIA HUGHSON IN THE HILTON ON PARK LANE. ROOM 415. ROOM SERVICE CHAMPAGNE AND A BOWL OF CHIPS AT 23:47. CLASSY.
The cursor blinks again.
There’s a smattering of awkward laughter, then Tiggy pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her hair falls down, concealing her face, but from the gentle shuddering of her shoulders it’s obvious she is crying.
It’s also obvious that this isn’t the first time something like this has been revealed.
Amelia looks from Giles to Tiggy, confusion on her face. ‘What does it say?’
Giles ignores her and turns to Tiggy. Lets out a bark of nervous laughter. ‘This is nonsense, Tigs.’ He raises his palms and glances around the room. ‘You know it is. It’s just a stupid game.’ He turns to Amelia. ‘Just some made-up bullshit.’
‘Pretty specific though . . .’ James mutters.
Giles’s face flushes pink. ‘What’s this “fear” nonsense anyway?’ His earlier bravado is long gone. ‘Growing old? As if I’d say that.’ He sits down beside Tiggy, whispers something Lucy can’t hear.
Lucy watches him with interest. This is the kind of information she likes to dredge up for her column – and it’s not that hard to find people to spill the beans, even on their friends. But she’s never been there when someone’s been directly affected. She knows Giles’s type. He’s definitely a boy-man who craves adoration and doesn’t know when to say no. Tiggy probably just puts up with it because she likes to be associated with him. It’s pathetic, but it’s also a bit seedy, seeing it like this. It’s at times like this she’s glad her column anonymity is airtight. She’s made sure of it.
No one knows that she is the voice behind Real Celebrity Gossip UK.
Not one person, other than herself.
Amelia
Scott breaks the awkward silence. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘this is obviously all part of the game. I suggest we carry on. Get whatever it is they’ve got on us out into the open. The psychology here is clear enough. They’re trying to rattle us, see how we react. It feels more like a corporate team-building event than something I thought was meant to be luxury . . . and fun . . . but I guess we need to get it going, then see where it takes us.’ He scans the room. ‘Who’s in?’
There is a flurry of reluctant yeses, and Amelia feels like she has no choice but to join in, even though she can’t read what is appearing to the others. Not that she has anything to hide, and she’s actually quite interested in what ‘fear’ is going to come up for her. If someone was to ask her right now, she wouldn’t be able to choose one for herself.
‘Can you read it all out to me, please?’ she says. ‘Take it in turns, or whatever. I feel like I’m really missing out now without the proper tracker.’
‘Giles is a naughty boy,’ Scott says with a smirk. ‘That’s all you need to know about that one.’
Giles jumps up from his seat and takes a step towards Scott. ‘Listen, mate—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Brenda says, cutting him off. ‘I’ll go next. It’s all rather ridiculous, but if we have to play along to get things going, then let’s just go on with it.’ She double-taps the device on her ear and says, with a small flourish, ‘Reveal who I am.’ Then she smiles and turns round to face the blank wall behind her. ‘Ha!’ she says. ‘I knew it was a load of nonsense. I thought I’d try a different command to Giles, and look, it’s not working . . .’
Her voice trails off as Lucy begins to read out what everyone but Amelia can apparently see before them.
NAME: BRENDA CARTER
AGE: 50
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: SEVENOAKS, KENT, UK . . . DORDOGNE, FRANCE . . . UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, USA
MARITAL STATUS: DIVORCED. WIDOWED. MARRIED.
JOB: HEDGE FUNDER/VENTURE CAPITALIST
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO EVALUATE THE FINANCES OF THE GAME.
Everyone stares straight ahead, unblinking. Amelia looks at each of them in turn, sees the minuscule left-to-right movements of their eyes as they read the text on their own projected screens.
Lucy clears her throat and continues.
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: SNAKES
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU TOLD YOUR LATE HUSBAND’S DAUGHTER THAT THE BONDS HE HELD IN TRUST FOR HER WERE NON-VIABLE AND SUGGESTED SHE SELL. YOU MADE A HEFTY PROFIT AND REINVESTED THE MONEY INTO YOUR OWN PORTFOLIO. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS CANCER?
There is a collective, audible gasp from the room. Brenda’s face is stony; the age lines she’s taken great pains to cover with
her carefully applied make-up and subtle use of fillers are harsh now against her pale skin.
‘Absolute nonsense,’ she says, but she won’t meet anyone else’s gaze.
‘See, Tigs?’ Giles says, seeing an opportunity. ‘Hers isn’t true, either. It’s just cruel lies, put up there to unsettle us. Go on, you go next. Bet you it’s a load of rubbish that they come up with for you too.’
Amelia glances over at Lucy, who is clenching and unclenching her hands. Lucy closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them and blows out a long slow breath through pursed lips. She looks rattled. And when Amelia turns her gaze towards Scott, he is frowning, the deep wrinkle between his eyebrows more visible than ever. Only James looks unperturbed, and she wonders if this is nonchalance, bravado, or if he really has no skeletons causing him any worry.
She leans back into the cushions and stares up at the ceiling. What might the game reveal about her? She doesn’t have anything bad in her past. Nothing that immediately springs to mind. Giles’s reveal – assuming from what Scott said and Tiggy’s reaction that it was something about cheating – was fairly innocuous compared to Brenda’s, so clearly there are levels. There will no doubt be something embarrassing that will come out, but it’s not as if she’s intentionally done anyone any harm. Has she? Certainly nothing that she can remember. But then memories are such a personal thing; everyone recalls events with a slightly different tinge.
Lucy breaks the silence. ‘Perhaps we should get outside and start exploring this place,’ she says, her voice wavering slightly. ‘We can’t just sit in here all day unleashing our dirty wee secrets.’
‘Agreed,’ says Giles. He marches over to the door.
Tiggy moves across the seat towards Brenda, who still looks ashen. ‘It’s all a lot of nonsense,’ she whispers to her. ‘We all know you’d never do something like that—’
‘How do we know?’ Scott says. ‘None of us knows anything about anyone in here.’
‘But it’s so cruel,’ Tiggy says. ‘And what they said about Giles too—’
‘Oh, for—’ Giles swears and kicks at the door. He rattles the handle, then swears again. ‘It’s locked.’ He turns round, his cheeks pink from the exertion. ‘We’re locked in.’
Amelia takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t think we’re getting out until we finish these introductions. Let’s just get it over with.’
‘Fine,’ Scott says, loud enough to make Tiggy jump. ‘I’ll go next, OK? Right . . . tell everyone who I am.’ He stands back and crosses his arms. A moment later, he starts to read.
NAME: SCOTT WILLIAMS
AGE: 35
NATIONALITY: AMERICAN
He pauses. Mutters, ‘Duh,’ before continuing.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: VENICE, CALIFORNIA, USA
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE
‘. . . and ready to mingle.’ He laughs, then when no one laughs with him, he carries on.
JOB: CEO OF NUTRICEUTICALS START-UP
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO ASSESS THE HOLISTIC HEALTH BENEFITS OF THE GAME
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: EXTREME PAIN
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU PROMISED A WOMAN AT YOUR POP-UP HEALTH STALL IN THE AMERICAS MALL IN WEST LA THAT HER FERTILITY PROBLEMS WOULD BE CURED BY A SERIES OF YOUR NUTRIENT INFUSIONS. FALSE HOPE IS DANGEROUS, YOU KNOW. AS IS EATING TOO MUCH SATURATED FAT.
He shakes his head. ‘Oh, for God’s sake. I hand out leaflets listing the full ingredients. Anyone who wants to believe that these things are genuinely beneficial is just asking for it.’
‘Proud to be a snake-oil salesman, are you?’ James says, raising his eyebrows.
‘Wow. Just wow,’ Scott says. ‘You think I’m worse than her?’ He points at Brenda. ‘Duping her own dying stepdaughter?’
She gives him a hard stare. ‘Don’t start on me. At least I’m not a hypocrite. I set out to make money and that’s what I do. You sell people cures for conditions they don’t know they have, or convince them you can make all their worries disappear with an overdose of vitamin C that will only get pissed out the next time they go to the toilet . . . and your greatest fear is extreme pain? Don’t you have some kind of pseudo-pharmaceutical drip for that?’
‘Guys, guys . . . come on.’ Giles stands between them and holds a palm out to each of them. ‘Like we said, we don’t know if any of this is true. It’s clearly all being set up to cause friction here – and guess what? It’s working. Right then,’ he says, turning to Tiggy. ‘Tigs, you go next.’
Tiggy gives him a quick smile, then stands up. ‘What’ve you got on me, then?’ she says. She smiles nervously, lays a hand on Giles’s arm, giving his biceps a quick squeeze. ‘Babes, can you read mine out?’
Amelia is surprised that Tiggy has seemingly forgiven Giles so quickly – but she doesn’t know these people, or what their relationship is all about, so who is she to judge?
Giles grins, then leans in and kisses his girlfriend on the forehead. ‘Course I can, babes. Right . . .’
NAME: THERESA ‘TIGGY’ RAMONA
He puts an arm around her. ‘Theresa. That always makes me laugh. My little nun, aren’t you, babes?’ She smiles at him, and he carries on.
AGE: 25
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: CHELSEA, LONDON, UK
MARITAL STATUS: IN A RELATIONSHIP
JOB: TRAVEL AND DESIGNER CLOTHING BRAND INFLUENCER
He pauses again. ‘Doing well too, ain’t she?’ No one reacts.
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO VALIDATE THE BRAND-SELLABILITY OF THE GAME
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: BEING ALONE
He stops, pulling her closer. ‘Is it, babes?’
She nods, casts her eyes down.
‘What, even more than spiders in the bath?’ He prods her on the shoulder. ‘And getting fat?’ He laughs, but she doesn’t look at him. He turns to Amelia and rolls his eyes. ‘Only kidding. Anyway . . .’
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU TOLD THE MANAGER OF A WELL-KNOWN HOTEL CHAIN THAT HIS LATEST HOTEL IN PARIS IS THE BEST HOTEL YOU’VE EVER STAYED IN. YOU TOLD YOUR BROTHER THAT THE BEDS WERE TOO HARD AND THE BREAKFAST WAS ‘NO BETTER THAN A PREMIER INN’. IS ANYTHING YOU PROMOTE AS GOOD AS YOU SAY IT IS?
Giles starts laughing. ‘To be fair, Tigs, despite this being the most lame lie I have ever heard, it’s spot on. You do tell a few porkies when it comes to your reviews.’
Tiggy frowns. ‘Just because I don’t always like a place doesn’t mean someone else won’t love it.’
‘You lie, then,’ James says. ‘They give you a free stay and you give them a good review? No doubt they ply you with other freebies too.’
‘So what if they do?’ Tiggy says. ‘It’s all fake, isn’t it? Surely everyone knows that?’
‘God, this is depressing,’ Lucy says. ‘I suppose I’ll go next.’
James stands up. ‘No, let me. Reveal all,’ he says, tapping his device. ‘You can read it out if you like?’
Lucy looks startled for a moment, at the cheek of him. Then she huffs out a breath and starts to read aloud.
NAME: JAMES DEVLIN
AGE: 31
NATIONALITY: BRITISH
CURRENT RESIDENCE: HACKNEY, LONDON, UK
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE
JOB: FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO TAKE PROMOTIONAL SHOTS
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: BEING BURIED ALIVE
Lucy pauses. ‘Interesting—’
‘Just finish it,’ James says.
She huffs again, then continues.
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU SOLD A PHOTOGRAPH OF A WELL-KNOWN GIRL-BAND MEMBER TO A TABLOID FOR SEVERAL THOUSAND POUNDS – A PHOTOGRAPH THAT NOT ONLY REVEALED THE SUBJECT IN A CAREER-JEOPARDISING SITUATION, BUT THAT YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY TAKE. YOU STOLE THIS PHOTOGRAPH FROM THE PERSON WHO DID TAKE IT, WHO SENT IT TO YOU FOR ADVICE – YOU TOLD THEM NOT TO USE IT, BUT TOOK CREDIT FOR IT YOURSELF. NOT ONLY UNSCRUPULOUS, YOU’RE TOO LAZY TO DO YOUR OWN WORK.
Lucy sneers. ‘Nice.’
‘Ha,’ Brenda says. ‘A lazy, unscrup
ulous paparazzo. What a shocker.’
‘Whatever,’ James says. ‘We all need to pay the bills.’
Lucy bites her lip, then stands up. ‘OK,’ she says, ‘tell them who I am.’ She looks around at the group. ‘And before any of you start, I’ll read my own.’
She puts her hands on her hips and begins to read.
NAME: LUCY DE MARCO
AGE: 38
NATIONALITY: SCOTTISH ITALIAN
‘Italian? With that hair?’ Scott looks her up and down, fixing his gaze on her with a barely disguised leer. ‘Does the carpet match the drapes?’
‘You’re a pig,’ Lucy says, her face wrinkling with distaste. ‘Anyway . . .’ She continues:
CURRENT RESIDENCE: SOUTHEND, ESSEX, UK
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE
JOB: CELEBRITY GOSSIP COLUMNIST
‘Oh yeah,’ Scott butts in again. ‘A paparazzo and now a hack. Great group we’ve got here.’
Lucy glares at him before continuing once more.
WHY YOU’RE HERE: TO SPIN A GOOD STORY
YOUR GREATEST FEAR: BEING FOUND OUT
Her voice breaks. ‘I, um . . . can someone else finish this, please?’
Amelia glances across at Lucy, taking in her expression. Whatever her ‘lie’ is, it’s obviously something that’s rattled her.
Brenda nods. ‘I’ll read it.’
YOUR LAST LIE: YOU SHARED FABRICATED INFORMATION ABOUT AN AFFAIR, WHICH LED TO A VERY AWKWARD WEDDING DAY SHOOT BY HELLO! MAGAZINE AND A SUBSEQUENT SUICIDE ATTEMPT BY THE BRIDE WHILE ON HONEYMOON IN THE SEYCHELLES. NO COINCIDENCE THAT THE GROOM WAS YOUR EX?
Lucy sits down, her expression stony.
‘Ouch,’ says Tiggy. ‘I guess he must’ve really hurt you, then?’
‘Are you serious?’ says Scott. ‘What she did is hardly fair play.’
Lucy says nothing, but she turns to Amelia, catching her eye – and Amelia is sure for a moment that she looks relieved. As if she’d been expecting something far worse to be revealed, and she’s got away with it.
The Last Resort Page 4