The Reservoir Tapes

by Jon McGregor

  The others looked at him when he joined them. Becky asked if he’d stopped for some snacks, and the others laughed. Sophie said something about an earthquake.

  There were these jokes, sometimes. It went round in turns and you were supposed to just laugh it off. But sometimes.

  The girls went a short distance away to get changed. The boys couldn’t see them but they could still hear their voices. There were other sounds which might have been the rustle of their clothes.

  The boys looked at each other. They’d grown up swimming together, down at the river, but something felt different. It wasn’t only the fact of being at the quarry. James told them not to be wimps and started stripping off. He already had his swimmers on under his jeans. Liam hadn’t thought of that.

  When the girls came back they all squeezed through the gap in the fence and followed a narrow trail through the bushes to the edge of the quarry.

  James threw a stone and they watched it fall. It took for ever, and they could barely hear the splash. When it landed a heron took off from the rocks at the side, hoisting itself into the air one flap at a time.

  Do you think there are fish down there? Deepak asked. How would fish get in there, though?

  There’s a gap in the fence, James said.

  Becky asked if they dared her to jump.

  They did.

  She jumped.

  Liam couldn’t believe it.

  She jumped out and upward, and she seemed to be held in mid-air for a moment. The sun shone all over her, and everyone held their breath. Then she started to fall.

  Her hair rose up above her. There was silence. She didn’t scream until just before she hit the water, and then her scream was drowned out by the splash. She hit the water hard.

  It took her a while to come back to the surface. The ripples in the water faded, and the water was flat and still, and the air was quiet again, and she still didn’t come back up. Liam thought, later, that she’d probably stayed down there longer on purpose, just to mess with their heads. She seemed like someone who would find it funny to just hide out somewhere and watch people looking for her.

  When she resurfaced, her screaming laughter echoing off the jagged walls of the quarry, everyone else jumped in.

  Except for Liam. He wasn’t a great swimmer, and he didn’t want to hear any jokes about the size of the splash he would make.

  They shouted at him to jump in, and he didn’t. They couldn’t force him.

  After a while he turned away and started to make a fire. They’d probably be cold when they got out, despite the weather.

  By the time they’d all climbed the steep path up from the water the fire was going well. It was crackling and there were sparks spinning up through the trees. Becky seemed impressed. She dropped her towel and started marching around the flames. Everyone joined in. They were stamping their feet. They were making whooping noises, and then they were all standing around Liam.

  It happened quickly.

  Becky put her hand on Liam’s shoulder and started smearing dirt on his face.

  The quarry-god is angry with you, she said. She was smiling, as though it was a game. We’ll have to make a sacrifice, she said. The others smeared dirt all over him. Their hands felt cold on his skin.

  It was kids’ stuff. Childish. But he went along with it.

  They made him stand against the fence, and tied his hands together.

  Becky started making up a chant.

  Something about the coward who would not jump. Something about the wrath of the water, the wrath of the gods.

  It sounded like something she’d seen in a film. The others thought it was funny. They joined in.

  She got an apple from her bag and put it in his mouth. She made the others hit him with branches to get rid of the curse. She told Liam they would only pretend. She spoke softly. She told him it was only a game. The others went along with it. Some of them were hitting a bit harder than just pretend.

  Becky started saying: squeal like a pig, squeal.

  Liam thought that was taking it too far.

  She pulled his swimmers down, and someone hit him really hard. Too hard.

  Squeal like a pig. Oink, oink.

  It was more than just jokes by then. It was out of hand. Liam tried to move away from the fence, but Becky didn’t want to stop the game. He had to push her off. James was there as well, and Liam couldn’t tell if James was helping him or helping Becky. He got his hands untied, and pushed them both off, and ran.

  He could hear them running after him.

  They probably thought it was still a game but Liam wasn’t laughing any more.

  He had to pull his swimmers up as he ran. He ran quickly. It was downhill so it was easy to get the speed up. He must have run through some brambles, because when he looked down he thought he could see blood. He could hear the others shrieking and whooping behind him. They were running fast, but they didn’t seem to be running as fast as he was. He didn’t know what they thought they would do, if they caught him. He’d almost got down to the road at the edge of the woods when he turned and saw Becky close behind him, closer than the others. She had a wild look in her eyes. He slowed down until he could feel the gasp of her breath on his neck.

  6: Claire

  The screaming came from the woods behind the house.

  Claire was just getting out of the shower when she heard it: a single long scream which ended abruptly. The window was open to let out the steam, and she leant out for a look.

  She couldn’t see anything, of course. The air above the woods was dusty and still, and the sun was in her eyes. A pair of crows was circling. It was hard to tell if it had been a real scream or just kids mucking about. But she didn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t unusual to hear something going off in the woods. That time of year, with the long evenings and the kids off school, there would be all sorts happening sometimes.

  It might have only been a fox in any case.

  She went through to the bedroom to choose a dress.

  They’d booked a table for dinner. It was their first night out in a long while, and Claire wanted to make an effort. Will’s mother, Maisie, had already come round to babysit, and Claire was taking her time. She’d poured the first glass of wine. She could hear Maisie reading bedtime stories to Tom, and Tom asking for more than he knew he was allowed. Maisie was a soft touch with him but she didn’t really mind. There was no rush. Will had been called out on a Mountain Rescue job, somewhere up near Black Bull Rocks, and had said he might be late.

  She picked out a Chinese-looking print dress with a high button-up collar. Black, with flowers and dragons. Not quite silk but something pretending towards it. Will had liked it when she’d worn it before, a year or so previously. He’d said he liked the way it was high at the top but short at the bottom. Fashion wasn’t really his thing. It was nice that he’d noticed.

  She had to wriggle her way in, but it still just about fitted. She heard Maisie saying goodnight and squeezing Tom’s door closed, and there was a long pause before her footsteps went slowly down the stairs. She checked the dress in the mirror, tugging out some adjustments and turning from side to side. She topped up her glass. She could hear Maisie moving around in the kitchen, fussing with dishes and pans. That woman. She’d say she was only wanting to help but it felt like interfering. Four sons and a husband, and she’d spent most of her life mothering them all. She wasn’t going to stop now just because Will had left home.

  Claire plugged the straighteners in, and started on her hair.

  *

  She waited until she heard Will come in before she went downstairs, glass in hand. The sound of her high heels on the wooden stairs should have been enough to make him turn his head. But when she came into the kitchen it was Maisie who looked her up and down. It made her feel like a teenager who’d been at her mum’s make-up table.

  I thought you were just going out for a nice quiet dinner? she said.

  Claire smiled, and nodded. She could see from Will’
s face that he’d forgotten they were going out at all. He was filthy. Maisie had already put a pot of tea in front of him.

  Did it go okay? she asked. He nodded.

  He’s been twenty feet down in a sinkhole, Maisie said. Ropes and all sorts. Girl Guide fell through. They had to stretcher her out.

  State of you, though, Claire said.

  Peat stains like a bugger, Will said.

  Looks like you’ve been at the fake tan, she told him.

  I’ll jump in the shower, he said, without moving. He made it sound like going out was going to be just another chore. Maisie smiled.

  I’ll go and check on Tom, Claire said.

  *

  In his bedroom Tom was sleeping fiercely, with the cover flung off and his pyjama top pulled up to his chin, one fist laid over his eyes against the light. It didn’t seem long since they’d moved him out of the cot, but he was already close to outgrowing the toddler bed. As she watched, his feet shook suddenly and he turned over. She remembered all the nights she’d spent in here with him, willing him to sleep. It had been so exhausting. They’d been so young. They hadn’t been ready for it. She wasn’t sure they were ready yet.

  When she went through to their room, Will was sitting on the bed with a magazine. He hadn’t even got in the shower. She told him the table was booked, and they were running late.

  He told her it was a nice dress she was wearing. Which was something at least. He asked if it was new.

  That was the problem, right there.

  No, she told him, it wasn’t new. He’d seen her in it before. She’d worn it to Matty Fincher’s barbecue the previous summer, didn’t he remember?

  Maybe, he said. Remember you looking good that night. Just don’t remember that dress exactly.

  Well, I reckon Matty Fincher does, she told him.

  She bent down to pick some clothes off the floor. She knew how that dress rode up. It was too short. But there was no response from Will. Nothing. She told him Matty Fincher hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her all evening, that he’d kept finding excuses to talk to her. Even put his hand on me at one point, she said, watching him.

  Yeah, Will said. That’s Matty Fincher for you.

  There was shouting again from the woods, further away. Another scream. She glanced across the landing and through the bathroom window. It looked like there was smoke going up from the direction of the flooded quarry. Who knew what was going off.

  She turned in front of the mirror and thought she saw a ladder in her stocking, high on the back of her right leg. She made a show of swearing, watching Will from the corner of her eye. After a long pause he asked her what was up.

  Ladder, she told him. She lifted the hem of her dress a little. Just there, she said.

  She saw him looking, for a moment, and she saw him thinking about it. Then he turned back to his magazine. He sighed.

  Listen, he said. I’m sorry. It’s been a right day. I’m too tired now. You go out without me. Go for a drink with Donna or someone. Don’t mind me. You’re all dressed up now.

  It was the sigh that did it. She didn’t even look at Maisie on her way out of the house, and she gave neither of them the satisfaction of slamming the door.

  *

  Donna was surprised to see her. It had been a while since they’d been out together. But she looked at Claire’s get-up and said to give her five minutes to get ready. That’s what friends do. Claire would do the same for Donna, if she could find someone to look after Tom. She went into the kitchen, and that big wet dog of theirs would have jumped up and ruined her dress if Donna’s brother, Jack, hadn’t grabbed it by the collar and held it close.

  Don’t mind him, he said. Only being friendly. Claire smiled, smoothing down the front of her dress. Donna’s brother didn’t go anywhere.

  Something about Jack made her self-conscious. He looked older than she’d remembered. He must have been seventeen or eighteen. He’d grown quickly. The dog was pulling away from him, and she could see it was taking some strength to hold it back.

  They could hear Donna moving around upstairs, her wardrobe door banging open and shut.

  Jack was looking at her the way Will had always done when they first got together. This was the age they’d been. He’d had the same clumsy way of making his feelings clear. She felt exposed, suddenly. She pulled at the hem of her dress. It really was too short.

  She asked how school was going.

  I’m not in school, he told her. He was grinning. He looked pleased with himself. I left a couple of years back. I’m all grown up.

  The dog had relaxed a little, and he was standing straighter. He was tall. She certainly felt noticed now.

  I’d say so, she said. You are all grown up, aren’t you?

  She watched him blush. This was still her favourite thing: when they came across all cocky but you could still make them blush.

  He took the dog out of the room, and when she turned to pour a glass of water at the sink she felt him come back and stand very close behind her. She pretended not to notice. He was standing about as close as he could without touching her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, quickening.

  You all right there? she asked.

  He reached round, took the glass out of her hand, and drank.

  Thirsty, he said.

  She turned to face him. She had to press back hard against the sink to make sure she wasn’t touching him. She looked up into his eyes, frowning slightly, wanting to know what he wanted.

  He was just waiting, it seemed. He put the glass down on the counter next to her, and his hands hovered.

  She shook her head, very slightly, but she kept looking and she didn’t move.

  *

  She could leave Will.

  That was something that could happen.

  She could have this feeling again, or something like it.

  This anticipation. The taste of it.

  She was too young to have given these things up.

  Will was too young to have given these things up.

  She’d be doing them both a favour.

  There were possibilities.

  *

  Donna came clattering down the stairs and started to ask Claire where they were heading. Jack had already moved away by the time Donna came into the room, but Donna still stopped what she was saying and looked at the two of them.

  Claire smiled, innocently.

  Jack gave Claire a look which she took to mean this would be continued. She ignored him, and followed Donna out to the car.

  As they got in there was an awkward silence. Claire laughed.

  You’re not thinking? We didn’t – what?

  You just better bloody not, was all Donna said.

  We didn’t! Claire said, trying to laugh it off.

  So many reasons why not, Donna said. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?

  Claire told her again that nothing had happened, and asked what Donna was even thinking, and she could tell that Donna didn’t believe her by the way she accelerated through the village and down the road towards Cardwell.

  When they came down the hill past the woods, a group of kids suddenly burst out on to the road. Donna had to brake sharply, and swerve over to the other side.

  They only stopped for a moment, but Claire recognised James Broad, and his friend Deepak, and the older Hunter girl, Sophie. Teenagers, although they looked younger because they were all in their swimming costumes. The Hooper boy was there as well. She knew them all from around the village. Their hair was wet and they were laughing. Who knew what madness they’d been up to. The Hooper boy was smeared with mud, and looked like he’d been bleeding. He wasn’t laughing. There was another girl there who Claire didn’t recognise. Donna gave them all a furious stare through the window, and drove on. They didn’t say anything about it. They’d both grown up in the village, with nothing much to do, and they both knew about the sort of things that get done to pass the time. Those long summers, with no way out. Seeing the same faces
day after day. You’d feel trapped. Sometimes you’d break things just to see what would happen.

  7: Clive

  The gun was out on the table when the police came into the house, which was awkward.

  The younger policeman in particular hesitated as the two of them came into the kitchen, and glanced at his colleague.

  You’ll not mind this being out? Clive asked, moving the cleaning rods and brushes aside.

  As a matter of fact, sir, it’s the gun we wanted to talk to you about.

  Clive put the kettle on.

  *

  He wasn’t a shooting enthusiast. He’d be suspicious of anyone who would describe themselves as an enthusiast. A gun is simply a tool for a job. A necessary job, sometimes. But there’s no call for getting enthusiastic about it. That would be something else altogether.

  It’s a very effective tool, as it happens. A few hundred years ago, someone in Clive’s shoes would have been out with traps and snares. You couldn’t say the snare was a tidy way of going about things. It was a slow way to die. There were accounts of some creatures chewing their own leg off to get loose of a snare. But with a gun, they didn’t even know what was coming. It was just: tock. Done. None the wiser.