The Unravelling: Children can be very very cruel (A gripping domestic noir thriller)

by Thorne Moore

  I’m dancing round as we walk, and looking back I see Serena Whinn, coming down from the Parade. I know it’s Serena, because she has a hat, not a bonnet, and a proper coat, not like the duffle coats and gaberdines most of us wear. She never looks cold. Or hot. Or heavy. She walks like there’s air under her feet. I can’t take my eyes off her, she’s so beautiful.

  She’ll be turning off soon to the footpath that leads to Rowlands Avenue. But no, she’s stopped. She’s looking along Aspen Drive, to where Janice and I are mucking around, and she waves.

  I wave back. Suddenly, everything is complicated.

  Janice is my friend, my best friend. She always has been. But Serena is…Serena. To be Serena’s friend is to be lifted up on high. To walk on clouds.

  I can be both, can’t I? Serena’s friend and Janice’s? But somehow it never really works. I don’t understand why. Serena is always very nice to Janice. She smiles at her, and never calls her sing-song names like Angela does. She never pushes her out of the way like Barbara or tells on her like Denise. She doesn’t sulk if I talk to Janice, the way Ruth does.

  But Janice is always very quiet when Serena is around. I suppose it’s because she knows she doesn’t belong, because Serena hasn’t chosen her. Janice can never even dream of being one of the golden girls, so she shrinks whenever Serena comes near.

  That’s what Serena is doing now. Not just waving. She’s running down Aspen Drive to join us. To join me. She’s smiling.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello.’ I can feel my cheeks blushing red with bashfulness. I’ve played with Serena and the others, visited Serena’s house, with the others, shared Serena’s secrets with the others, but I’ve never been alone with her before. She’s never picked me out for sole attention before, to the exclusion of the others, even Barbara. It’s just me and Serena.

  And Janice.

  For a brief while, thinking of hot chestnuts and silly things, I had forgotten the Ouija game, but now it’s back with its horrible, scary message for Janice and me. One will kill the other.

  ‘I was worried about you,’ says Serena, smiling at me. It’s a beautiful smile, but I see it growing ever so slightly wary as it moves to Janice.

  Janice shrinks.

  ‘Are you going home?’ asks Serena. ‘Can I come with you?’

  My heart patters. Serena wants to come home with me. With me! My brain begins to race, thinking what toys I can bring out, what games we can play, if she comes to my house. It’s not a posh house, like hers. Mummy’s probably got knickers on the clothes horse by the living room fire and if Daddy’s home, he might be in his vest. Will she mind?

  ‘We’re going to the allotments,’ says Janice.

  I had forgotten. What can I do? Which one do I choose?

  But Serena must understand, because she doesn’t mind. ‘Can I come too?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ I’m overwhelmed by the relief and the honour. Of course Serena can come.

  Janice scuffs the kerb with her broken sandal and looks down, no longer happy. But I can’t say no to Serena, can I? I’d never want to say no to her.

  ‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’ asks Serena, as we walk on.

  ‘Oh yes!’ It’s hard not to give a positive answer to Serena. But it isn’t true, and I shouldn’t lie to her. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Did you play any games?’

  No, we didn’t play any games. I was too busy making things miserable for everyone else. The last game I played was with the Ouija board, before Christmas. I can only shake my head. The grip of remembered fear has got my tongue.

  Janice doesn’t speak.

  ‘My cousins came, and Barbara, and Annette next door, and we played Murder in the Dark,’ says Serena. ‘I didn’t like it very much. It was scary, not knowing who the murderer was.’

  We are turning into Sawyer’s Lane. It’s narrow here, at this end, between two tall wire fences, so we can’t all walk together. There’s only room for two, side by side. I walk with Serena. It’s because she’s talking to me, so I can’t hang back.

  I can hear Janice coming behind us. I can hear her breathing. She’s got a cold and she breathes through her mouth. It’s creepy when you can hear someone breathing, but you can’t see them. I keep looking over my shoulder at her, and she’s looking at me, but neither of us is smiling any more.

  The lane opens out as we reach the trees. Janice comes forward to walk beside me. I am between the two of them.

  ‘Barbara says there’s a haunted cottage in this wood,’ says Serena, taking my hand, with a little rush of nervousness. ‘Is it true? Have you ever seen ghosts here? It is quite scary, isn’t it?’

  I’d never thought of ghosts before, but she’s right. There used to be a building just on the edge of the wood. One corner of crumbling brick still stands. I think it was too small to be a proper house, but it would do for a witch. All the children who play round here call it the witch’s cottage. You can see big lumps of stone and brick and concrete, lining the edge of the path and you can see they were once bits of it, but it was knocked down so the witch can’t live there any more. Maybe her ghost is angry that her house was knocked down. I hadn’t thought of that. An angry ghost is worse than an ordinary ghost. She could be lurking around, among the trees, watching us.

  The wood is suddenly really scary. Sometimes I think it’s full of fairies and squirrels and things like that, but today it’s full of monsters. The trees are naked, tall dark pillars looming up around us. Brambles wave and reach out like claws and the dead undergrowth rattles and crackles. Things move, just out of sight. The winter sky is darkening fast, almost night, and the tiny flakes of snow are getting bigger, falling faster, so everything shifts. The shadows under the trees are gloomy and threatening.

  ‘This is where murderers might be,’ says Serena.

  She says it and then I feel the tremble in her fingers, the little flinch of fear, as if she said it first as a joke and then realised it might be true.

  Janice reaches out for my other hand and I snatch it away. I can’t help myself. I keep remembering that spirit message.

  There’s all the world of meaning in me snatching my hand away. Janice sniffs, her body jerking like with hiccups, but it’s not a hiccup, it’s a sob. Then she runs forward. She’s clumsy, because her shoes are broken, but she runs to put a space between us, so that she can pretend not to care.

  We walk after her, down the glooming track. Hanging back.

  ‘Do you remember the spirit message?’ asks Serena.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘It’s horrible, isn’t it? Not knowing.’

  I can barely breathe.

  ‘Mr Dexter is in prison,’ whispers Serena. ‘He’s done a murder. Daddy told me. And one of his sons, only the police couldn’t catch him. They murdered a girl. So I expect they’ll have told Janice how to do it.’

  I shudder and Serena squeezes my arm to comfort me.

  How do you do a murder? How would Janice do it? Maybe one of her brothers has got a gun and she might creep up when I’m not looking and shoot me. That’s what happens on telly. People get shot. I don’t know how else to kill.

  Ahead of us, Janice has stopped running. She’s reached the bridge and she turns to wait for us, swinging on one of the rail posts until we’re nearly there. The best way to make friends again is always to pretend there wasn’t a quarrel.

  I don’t know how much she’s pretending.

  ‘Come on,’ she says, and she does what we’ve always done. What we do. What all children who live at this end of the estate do, because it’s the law among children. She starts to walk across the iron pipe, holding the rail of the bridge for support. Only adults would think of crossing the brook on the bridge.

  Serena doesn’t live this end of the estate. She doesn’t understand about walking on the pipe. She steps into the bridge.

  I hesitate, my hand slipping from hers. Which way do I go? Then I do as tradition dictates. I step onto the pipe.

  I hear an
intake of breath from Serena, walking to my left, just above me, her hand brushing mine on the same rail. She leans over and whispers ‘Don’t go near her, Karen, please. I’m scared.’

  And I’m scared too, because suddenly I feel I’ve done the wrong thing. I have taken the wrong path. But I can’t go back. The pipe beneath my feet is wet and slippery. The coldness of it is eating through my shoes and ahead of me is Janice.

  She’s halfway across, going slowly, looking down as she slithers, her broken shoe dragging on the big riveted joint in the pipe. Snow falls between us, like smoke.

  ‘I’m scared,’ repeats Serena, no longer whispering. ‘Oh, Karen.’ There’s panic in her voice.

  It nooses Janice too, that panic. She stops, clinging to the bridge rail, and looks back, over her shoulder, as I edge towards her. I can see the fear in her eyes, her chest beginning to convulse.

  ‘It said one of you will kill the other one.’ Serena is almost crying, her voice shaking with panic. ‘Don’t let her kill you, Karen!’

  Janice tries to turn, so she can face me, so that I can’t creep up on her. Or is she turning to kill me? I begin to whimper. Janice is stumbling and fumbling in her fear, her shoe catching, and suddenly she’s slipping, feet slithering from the pipe, her numb fingers scrabbling to grip the rail but her own half-starved weight defeats her and she’s gone, down into the freezing brook.

  She lands sprawling on stone and garbage, the icy water flowing around her, splattering her as she moans and tries to shuffle up, onto her knees. The grey wet snow, as it falls, makes the water look black. Like it’s really deep and she’s floating on it. She’s hurting, I can see. Tears and snot are pouring down her face and she must have caught on something because there’s blood, trickling down her cheek. She opens her mouth and she should be crying, wailing with the shock and pain, but terror stoppers the screams as she looks up at me.

  She is looking up at me, blood trickling down her face, wordlessly pleading for help or for mercy.

  I am frozen on the pipe. I can’t breathe, I can’t move. I see Serena’s hands on the railings, gripping so hard the knuckles are like white bones poking through.

  Then she lets go. She’s stepping back, running from the bridge, and I am left staring down at Janice. She is beginning to gulp big breaths, beginning to recover from the shock, the pain and the fear, although the tears still flow freely.

  It’s silly, being afraid. Her being afraid of me and me of her, because we’re friends. It’s silly. I’m beginning to unfreeze too. I take a sideways step, gingerly, along the icy pipe. If Janice has already slipped from it, I might too, so I’m carefully clinging to the bridge rails.

  Another step. Janice is beginning to pick herself up now, pushing herself onto her hands and knees. If I can get off the pipe, I can pull her up the steep, muddy bank of the brook.

  But then Serena is back. I thought she’d run off but she’s come back to the bridge. ‘Karen!’

  She’s holding something. I don’t understand. It takes me an age, staring at it between her woollen gloves, to work out it’s a lump of old concrete. One of the bits along the path. It’s smooth on one side, jagged on the others, with bits of stone sticking out, and a bit of rusty wire. I just stare, trying to make sense of it and of the look of complete panic in Serena’s eyes.

  ‘Kill her, Karen, or she’ll kill you!’

  I gape, not understanding. Serena is standing there, holding out this lump, and she’s crying. She’s terrified. We all are. I am, on the pipe. Janice is, down in the stream. Three girls, in a dark wood, crying and terrified.

  Janice has stopped scrabbling in the water, too frozen with fear to move any more. Serena has heaved the block onto the rails, pushing it at me, too heavy for her to keep holding it out.

  ‘I don’t want her to kill you!’ she sobs.

  My heart thumps.

  And then I shake my head. I look down at Janice, my friend, and I can see that little gleam of hope in her eyes. She manages a sniff, and then begins to brace herself on one arm in order to push herself up.

  ‘Take it!’ pleads Serena, almost screaming. ‘Drop it!’

  But I won’t. What I’ll do is go down and help Janice.

  Serena leans over the railings, she holds the block right out.

  And she lets go.

  She’s holding it, and then she’s not holding it.

  There’s a…

  It’s not a scream. Just a gurgle, and a crunch and…

  My head is swimming. I am going to fall into the water, beside Janice. But hands are gripping me, pulling me back. I hear Serena sobbing. ‘I’m scared. You scared me.’

  I’m hitting her off me as my vision begins to clear. I look down and then I look away, sick and faint. There’s blood in the water. And stuff. I crouch on the pipe, my arms locked round the bottom rail of the bridge, and I look up at Serena.

  Tears are flowing down her face. The terror is still there, but it’s changing. It’s like… I don’t know what it’s like. She’s staring down at the water and the fear in her eyes becomes sort of guilty, but there’s not just fear, there’s this other thing. She keeps looking. Curious.

  Then she looks back at me, where I’m crouching and clinging, and her lip quivers.

  ‘You made me do it.’

  I manage another shake of my head. Maybe I’m just trying to turn away from her gaze.

  ‘The spirit said one of you would do it. It said so, didn’t it? Everyone knows. She was going to kill you, Karen. I couldn’t let her do that. I tried to help you, but you wouldn’t do it, so I had to.’

  I am split. Ripped in two. One half of me is thinking about Janice, who is a mangled mess in the water and she’s my friend and I want to cry and I want her back. And the other half is thinking that Serena is disappointed in me. I’ve let her down, and made her do something terrible. The most terrible thing in the world.

  Serena wipes her eyes and then she smiles, full of pity and reassurance.

  ‘I had to do it, you see. Or she’d have killed you.’

  I remember the fear as Janice turned on the pipe. Serena saved me.

  Then I look down again, at the horror in the stream, and I can only sob and choke.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Serena stamping her foot. She doesn’t sound sympathetic any more. ‘Everyone will think it was you. Because of the spirit message. They’ll know it’s come true and you killed her.’

  ‘I didn’t!’

  ‘Yes, but you did, sort of. You should have. It’s just that I had to do it for you. To save you.’

  She’s gone, off the bridge again, leaving me, walking away. Leaving me with the thing in the water. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that she’s leaving me. I can’t deal with this alone, but—

  She’s not leaving. She’s just climbing down the bank, to the stream, looking at Janice, as if she’s something really interesting, like a tadpole. She pulls up a bit of broken branch and pokes at the mess.

  I’m sick, the vomit burning my mouth. I’m trembling all over.

  ‘Come down to the water,’ says Serena. ‘You’ll have to pull her out of sight.’

  I don’t move.

  She looks up at me, hand on hip and she’s not upset any more, she’s just stern. ‘If they find her, they’ll know you killed her and they’ll arrest you. Then they’ll hang you.’

  No! I can’t take this. My insides are clenching and I can feel wee running down my legs. I can’t… I can’t…

  ‘If you hide her, they won’t find her,’ says Serena, poking hard at the concrete block, so that it rolls over. My eyes fix on its jagged upturned side. It’s covered with blood and hair and goo. It’s horrible, but I don’t want to take my eyes off it, because if I do, I’ll see the thing it was on, before Serena pushed it over. I’ll see Janice’s head.

  ‘You have to come down,’ orders Serena.

  I can’t think. I crawl back along the pipe to solid ground and slither down the ice-cold mud of the bank. Ser
ena is right. She’s in charge. Everyone will know it was me. Everyone who crosses the bridge and looks down into the water will see…it. Janice. And they’ll know what I’ve done.

  But when I’m down, in the water, ice up over my ankles like knives stabbing into my flesh, I can’t look at Janice. I can’t bring myself to touch her. The black water flowing round me is full of…

  I start to scream. I can’t stop myself. My insides are shredding into a million pieces and each one wants to escape as a scream. Until a slap whips across my face, and I gulp on the last scream, choking on it. Serena is shaking me. She’s in the stream with me. Water over her shoes and her white socks.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it! Be quiet! Or someone will come and they’ll arrest you!’

  I stand there, panting like a dog, staring at the snowflakes as they settle on her coat and then vanish. I want to vanish too.

  She’s calmed down. ‘You’ve got to pull her out of sight, Karen. Where no one will see. Otherwise, they’ll catch you and hang you for murder.’

  It’s not fair. None of it’s fair. I don’t want to hang. I look down at Janice’s feet. The broken shoe has come off. I grab her ankles and try to tug her under the bridge. Her crumpled body straightens, but her hair is still tangled up with the concrete block that crushed her head. She won’t shift.

  ‘Pull her free,’ orders Serena.

  In reply, I just let go and shake my head.

  Serena stares at me for a moment and I go limp under her gaze, but I can’t do it. So she bends down and yanks Janice’s hair free from the concrete. Some of it comes off in her hand. It’s full of…

  I am crouching again, so low the water is washing my skirt and knickers as I’m sick. I can’t look at Janice’s head, but Serena can. She is standing, peering down at it closely, as if it’s really interesting. Then she turns to me again. ‘I’ll have to do it for you. Again. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘It’s not very nice for me.’ Resolutely, she grasps Janice’s ankles and pulls. But she only takes one step backwards under the bridge, before she straightens, holding up Janice’s thin white legs, scratched and bruised from the fall. ‘That would be better.’ She’s looking along the brook, to where it disappears into the dark tunnel. ‘Come on. I think you should try and help me. It’s not fair to make me do it all on my own. I’m only doing it for you.’