The Three Women

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘Best I could find,’ Joanne said, returning with three glass tumblers. She put them on the table and sat between her friends, clapping each on the knee as she did so. ‘Wasn’t this a great idea?’

  ‘Yes,’ Beth said nudging Joanne’s shoulder with her own. When Joanne made no moves towards pouring the wine, Beth leaned forward, picked up the bottle and filled each glass. She picked up one, waited until the others had theirs and raised her glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to us.’

  ‘To us!’ Megan and Beth said together and the three glasses met in a cheerful clink.

  ‘It’s nice to spend a last night together before we all head off,’ Beth said, beginning to relax. Her voice had lost its Somerset accent. She had taken Joanne’s comment to heart and when a heavy cold had left her with a husky voice that seemed to disguise her brogue, by dint of practising every day in the quiet of her tiny studio, she managed to keep it. Apart from a knowing glance from Joanne, no comment had ever been made. At first, she’d reverted back to her own accent when she went home for a visit but as time went by, as she’d grown more comfortable with the new version of herself, she’d stopped.

  ‘One last night of freedom,’ Megan said, gulping another mouthful of wine.

  ‘When do you start your Legal Practice course?’ Joanne asked her.

  ‘September, I’m going to help out in the gallery for a while but I’ve a few other things planned before I start.’

  ‘I’ve always admired your focus,’ Joanne raised her glass to her, ‘and think it’s rubbed off on me. I’ve applied for a public relations position with Milcross and Batten. They’re one of the biggest London companies. If I get it, I’ll be so pleased.’

  Beth propped her feet up on the coffee table. ‘You’ll have to find somewhere to rent; that’s going to cost.’

  ‘I’m heading to Portugal to spend a couple of weeks with my lovely parents,’ Joanne said. ‘I’m hoping they might help me out. They’ve plenty of money, but they like to spend it on themselves so I’m not holding out much hope.’ Reaching for the bottle, she topped up all their glasses and when she’d drained the last drop, she took another from the bag. ‘Luckily, I came well supplied.’ Opening it, she left it on the table and sat back, her eyes on Beth. ‘Have you made a decision?’

  ‘Not a final one. I’m going to take a couple of months off and make a decision then.’

  ‘But you are still thinking of the police, yes?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not completely sure yet,’ Beth said. ‘Right now, I’m just thinking we should go and investigate the pub.’

  By consensus, they didn’t bother to change clothes. Beth had long since adopted whatever fashion trend Joanne followed by finding charity shop alternatives, and both were wearing wide-legged trousers and tightly fitting low-cut T-shirts. But Megan, who found it difficult getting clothes to fit, stubbornly continued to wear the same type she’d worn since the first day.

  Beth looked at Megan’s billowing dark-orange cotton dress. Beth knew Megan thought it disguised her size but, instead, as she had slim shapely legs, it made her look remarkably like a toffee apple. Beth made no comment, neither did Joanne. They’d learned over the years; Megan didn’t want to listen.

  ‘We look fine as we are,’ Joanne said. ‘It’ll probably be full of old people anyway, but it did look nice on their website.’

  They headed off along the road, moving onto the grassy verge when the occasional car passed by. It was a warm balmy evening and the scenery on the ten-minute walk was pretty, with wildflowers in the hedgerows on both sides and a hazy view of the sea in the distance. Joanne pointed to a sign marking the coastal path. ‘Perhaps we can walk along it for a bit in the morning?’

  There were murmurs of agreement, Megan making both promise they’d walk slowly prompting the others to laugh and joke about her short legs.

  Slightly inebriated after the two bottles of wine, they arrived at the old pub. Not only did it look nice but it was clearly popular as evidenced by the almost-full car park to one side and the sound of raucous laughter coming from the open windows.

  ‘A quiet sleepy pub?’ Beth grinned, thumping Joanne on the arm. ‘Looks like the place is heaving.’

  As they crossed to the front door, a large group of young men hanging around outside, cigarettes dangling from their fingers or lips, looked their way. Beth sent Joanne a satisfied glance.

  ‘I don’t want to be too late leaving,’ Megan said, eyeing the group with a sense of foreboding. ‘There are no lights on that road. It’ll be a dark walk home.’

  ‘We’ll leave when they shout last orders, okay?’ Joanne said to her and then glanced over to Beth. ‘That okay with you?’

  Beth, exchanging flirtatious smiles with one of the men, nodded. ‘Yes, that’s fine.’ She knew by not too late, that Megan had meant ten at the latest. Staying till last orders meant eleven. She was right, of course, it would be dark but it was a straight road and they’d be together. Megan worried too much; they were supposed to be having fun.

  They pushed the door open and walked in, Joanne and Beth leading the way. Megan trailed behind.

  Inside, the pub was noisy and crowded. And mostly with young men. Joanne, who’d ordered drinks at the bar, came back with the explanation. ‘They’re students from a nearby boarding school celebrating the end of their own final exams.’ She was holding pints of bitter for herself and Beth and a small white wine for Megan.

  Beth took a gulp of beer and watched the students over the rim of her glass. They were far too young for them, many not looking old enough to buy alcohol, but their obvious admiration made age irrelevant.

  Within minutes of their arrival, Beth had fallen into conversation with a small group, while Joanne was chatting to others. In the crush of the busy pub, as people moved aside to let others through to the bar, the women drifted apart.

  Lost in the admiration of a couple of extremely handsome students, and pleasantly relaxed from all the alcohol she’d consumed, Beth assumed her friends were having as good a time as she was.

  For the next couple of hours, she didn’t give Megan or Joanne another thought.

  5

  Beth was having a ball but when the shout for last orders came she said goodbye without difficulty to her young Lotharios, and looked around for Megan and Joanne. Even in a room filled with testosterone-charged men, Joanne’s five feet eleven stood out. Moving through the still-crowded pub to her side, Beth grinned. ‘That was fun.’

  ‘The unexpected often is,’ Joanne said, grabbing her arm. ‘I think I’ve drunk a little too much!’

  Beth looked around. ‘Where’s Megan?’

  Joanne swayed and clutched Beth’s arm tighter. ‘Megan? I thought she was with you. I haven’t seen her since we came in.’

  Beth looked at Joanne, appalled. ‘I haven’t seen her for ages, I thought she was with you.’ Beth stood on her toes, trying to see over the crowd, feeling the first stirring of anxiety. ‘I don’t see her anywhere. Maybe she’s in the Ladies. Jo, have a look and I’ll ask the bar staff if they’ve seen her.’

  Joanne immediately headed through the crowd towards the Ladies. Beth kept one eye on her while she struggled to get to the bar, pushing through customers who were desperately trying to get one more drink.

  At the bar, it took a while to get any attention and finally, in desperation, Beth resorted to reaching across to grab the arm of one of the passing bar staff. ‘I’m looking for my friend,’ she said quickly. ‘A short woman about this high.’ She tapped the side of her arm with the edge of her hand. ‘She has thick-framed glasses and dark hair, have you seen her?’

  He looked at her a moment. ‘Hard to miss, she’s an ugly bird, isn’t she?’

  An ugly bird? Only anxiety over her friend made Beth keep her temper. ‘Did you see where she went?’ she asked him, flicking a look across to where Joanne was standing outside the Ladies.

  ‘She left about an hour ago with the man she’d been chatting to for a while before that.’
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  ‘Are you sure?’ Beth was relieved but still worried. Megan had left without saying goodbye, without letting them know. It wasn’t like her to be so thoughtless; she must have known they’d be concerned. How could she be so inconsiderate? Worry gave way to righteous indignation.

  ‘Positive,’ he said. ‘They looked to be getting very friendly. He bought her a couple of drinks. A local man, Matt Peters. He’s in here most evenings.’ The barman gave Beth a knowing look. ‘He likes to escape the wife and kids.’

  Beth was stunned. ‘Thanks,’ she said, turning away.

  Joanne was still hovering near the door to the Ladies. She waved and made her way across.

  ‘She left with a guy,’ Beth said. ‘About an hour ago. A local man, Matt Peters.’

  ‘Well, well, the dark horse,’ Joanne said with a drunken smirk. ‘Now one of us, I could have understood, but Megan!’ She swayed and reached for Beth’s arm, linking her own arm through it. ‘We’d better walk home slowly in case she’s brought him in for a coffee.’

  They weren’t falling-down drunk when they left the pub but they were certainly very merry. Annoyance, however, was sobering Beth up. ‘I can’t believe Megan left without telling us.’

  ‘She’s a big girl. She’s twenty-one after all, not eighteen. And don’t forget, she has the keys in that silly little bag of hers.’

  They started the short walk to the bungalow, darkness engulfing them once they left the lights of the pub behind.

  ‘We should have brought a torch.’ Beth pulled out her mobile and switched it on. It wasn’t ideal, but it made them more visible to passing cars.

  ‘Megan’s never shown much interest in men up to this,’ Joanne said, stumbling a little.

  ‘Careful,’ Beth said, holding her arm tighter. ‘Actually, I didn’t think she was into men.’

  Joanne stopped, swinging around to look at her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Come on.’ Beth tugged on her arm. ‘I don’t know, it’s nothing she’s ever said, just a feeling I have, it’s probably wrong.’

  They walked in silence for a few minutes.

  ‘You don’t think she’s brought him in, do you?’ Joanne asked.

  ‘God, I hope not!’ Beth groaned at the thought. ‘I doubt if the walls in that damn bungalow are very thick. If she did, we’ll be able to hear every grunt and groan.’

  When they reached the bungalow, there was no light visible in any window. Joanne sniggered. ‘They’re doing it in the dark.’

  Beth was still chuckling as they negotiated their way between the parked cars. ‘Well, she’s going to have to stop whatever she’s doing to let us in, isn’t she?’

  They halted when they saw the front door standing ajar. Joanne was about to step forward when Beth pulled on her arm, yanking her back.

  ‘What?’ Joanne said, looking at her.

  Beth pointed to the door. ‘That’s not right.’

  ‘Oooh!’ Joanne tittered, swaying slightly. ‘They were in a biiiig hurry.’

  ‘I suppose she might have left it open for us,’ Beth said, dropping Joanne’s arm. She put a hand on the door and pushed it open. Inside, there wasn’t a glimmer of light from anywhere and the silence was eerily heavy. She stepped over the threshold and stood in the darkness barely able to breathe, Joanne standing so close behind that her warm breath brushed Beth’s cheek.

  Reaching out a hand, Beth felt along the wall for the light switch unable to remember where it was, catching her foot on a small stool as she moved forward and stumbling against the wall. Swearing loudly, she searched again and grunted in relief when she found it. Instantly, the room was flooded with light, both of them blinking to adjust before they looked around. Everything was as it had been, every over-the-top sea-related ornament, every cushion still squashed out of place from where they were sitting earlier. Nothing appeared disturbed.

  They moved into the kitchen. It too, was as they’d left it, the dirty glasses lined up in a row on the draining board. ‘Maybe you were right,’ Beth said, brushing aside the feeling of disquiet and forcing a smile, ‘maybe they were just in a hurry.’

  Joanne, stumbled unsteadily, holding a hand to her head. ‘I don’t feel too well. Forget about her, she’s probably curled up in post-coital satisfaction.’

  Feeling stupid for her moment’s panic, Beth picked up one of the glasses, rinsed it out and filled it with water. ‘Drink,’ she said, handing the glass to Joanne. ‘It’ll help.’

  Screwing up her nose, Joanne took the glass and sipped.

  And then, in the quiet, they heard it… a low gut-wrenching whimper. The glass slipped from Joanne’s hand, smashing as it hit the floor, water and glass flying. ‘Shit!’ she said, reaching out a hand to grab Beth’s arm.

  Eyes wide, they hurried back to the lounge, clutching at one another, eyes frantically scanning the corners of the room before they stopped in front of the door that led down to the bedrooms. They stood hesitantly, ready to leave if the door opened and something leaped out at them, every Stephen King novel they had ever read running through their heads.

  It wasn’t until they heard a low-pitched moan that Beth moved closer. With Joanne panting heavily behind her, Beth reached for the handle, took a deep breath and pushed the door open, inch by inch. The corridor beyond was in darkness. Even with the door fully open, the light that filtered through from the lounge faded before it reached the end. Then, as the moan came again, a dark mass at the end took form and slowly moved towards them. Both women yelped in fright and stumbled backwards, Joanne screaming and running to the far side of the lounge; Beth, with a cry of terror, threw a final look at it before turning to follow, her head snapping back as the mass crawled forward into the dim light and horrified recognition dawned.

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s Megan!’ Rushing to her, Beth dropped to her knees and reached for her. ‘Oh God, Megan, what happened?’ She yelled over her shoulder, ‘Turn on the light, Joanne!’

  Joanne, huddled by the far wall, tears spilling down her cheeks, gasped and hurried back. She found the light switch and flicked it on, flooding the short corridor with light.

  ‘Shit!’ Beth said, hugging the wild-eyed woman. She didn’t bother asking what had happened; the ripped dress, scratches, bruised mouth, and especially the look of desolation, they all screamed one story. ‘He raped you?’ There was no reaction for a moment and then, with a moan, Megan buried her face in Beth’s shoulder, and sobbed.

  ‘The bastard,’ Joanne said, moving forward to hover over the entwined women, reaching down to lay a comforting hand on Megan’s head. ‘The utter bastard. But don’t worry, he won’t get away with it, we know who he is. Matt Peters.’ She spat out the name and searched her pockets for her mobile. ‘I’ll ring the police.’

  ‘No!’ Megan, lifting her head, put her hand out to stop her. ‘No, don’t! Please.’

  ‘What?’ Beth and Joanne said simultaneously, looking at Megan in confusion.

  ‘You were raped, of course you have to report it. You can’t let him get away with it,’ Joanne said.

  Beth, her arms wrapped tightly around the shaking woman, said quietly, ‘You don’t need to be ashamed. He raped you, it’s not your fault. We’ll be with you all the way, okay?’

  ‘No! I don’t want to report it.’ Megan pushed Beth away and struggled to her feet. She dragged her ripped dress around herself and pushed past them into the lounge, her breath catching as she sobbed.

  Following, the others hovered around her, their faces creased in concern. ‘I don’t understand,’ Joanne said. ‘How can you let him get away with it?’

  Megan dropped onto the sofa. Tears running down her cheeks, she pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees tightly, and lifted her chin. ‘Please,’ she said, her trembling voice pleading, ‘you have to understand, I can’t go through all the questions, examinations, prodding and prying. It would get out, of course it would, and I’d be the woman who was raped.’ She took a ragged breath and hugged herself tighter. ‘I don’t w
ant that, the sympathy or the pity. I just want to forget it ever happened. Please, promise me you’ll keep it a secret.’

  Joanne stared at her and then looked at Beth standing behind the sofa. ‘Tell her! Tell her we can’t let him get away with this!’

  Without a word, Beth left the room and returned almost immediately with a blanket in her hands. She draped it over Megan and tucked it down at the side before reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. Only then did she answer. ‘We can’t make her report it, Joanne, and I suppose I can understand what she means. He might confess but, then again,’ she threw an apologetic look at Megan, ‘she did leave with him voluntarily and the barman said they were very friendly. Playing devil’s advocate, he might say she was up for it and was crying rape after the fact so it might very well drag through the courts and be in the papers.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Megan said, swallowing a sob.

  ‘But your identity will be kept secret,’ Joanne argued. ‘You won’t be the woman who was raped. For God’s sake, Megan, you’ve scratches down your arms, your cheek’s already turning purple and I can see bruises through your torn dress. He hurt you and he should pay.’

  Megan pulled up the blanket, covering herself, and shook her head again. ‘Please, Joanne, let it go. I don’t want to report it.’ She ran a trembling hand through her tangled hair. ‘It’s my choice, isn’t it. And in case you’re tempted to report it on your own, I’ll deny anything happened.’

  Joanne opened her mouth to argue but at a sharp glance from Beth, she closed it again and turned away. ‘I think you’re wrong but if it’s what you want.’

  ‘It is,’ Megan said firmly. ‘I want you both to promise you’ll keep it a secret.’ When neither spoke, she repeated her request, her voice an unsteady quaver but her words sharp. ‘Promise me?’

  Beth sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘If it’s really what you want, I promise.’

  ‘This is crazy!’ Joanne cried. ‘What if you get pregnant? Or catch something?’