Cruel Summer

by James Dawson

  Alisha turned to them. ‘No, nothing.’ The three of them ran onto the front drive where the cars were parked. The end of the drive opened out onto the long coast road, but even that was deserted. Night bugs sang and whistled in the palms and bushes, but the front of the villa was as quiet as the back. On land, there was stillness, not even a hint of a breeze.

  ‘Where did she go? She was here like five minutes ago. She can’t have vanished.’ Katie kicked at the gravel on the drive.

  Ryan paused to let his frenetic heart rate slow. Janey Bradshaw. His world shifted to accommodate the possibility that she was alive. If she was, then the last twelve months were completely rewritten. It changed everything.

  It seemed insane to think Janey had waited this long, waited until they were all together again, before revealing herself. But of course, in a way, it all made perfect sense. Revenge is a very powerful thing. It can change people. Ryan quite liked this interesting new twist. He certainly hadn’t seen it coming and, if he was honest, if one of them had to be a psycho killer then better Janey than the others. He’d already mourned her loss.

  Greg and Ben appeared from the bushes at the other side of the house.

  ‘Anything?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘No,’ Ben said. ‘If she was here, she’s long gone.’

  ‘Or hiding.’ Alisha paced up and down the drive. ‘What if Ryan’s right? What if she’s come back for us? What if she saw and called the cops?’

  ‘We all need to . . .’ Ryan mimed simmering down with a graceful descent of his arms. ‘We don’t know what she did or didn’t do, what she did or didn’t see. All we do know is that she sure as hell can’t get mobile phone reception out here.’

  Greg cursed and slammed his way back into the villa through the front door. ‘This is bullshit!’ His cry shook the walls.

  Ryan rolled his eyes at Alisha. Oh good, another Greg tantrum. That would help exponentially. They followed him inside. Greg smashed the bedroom doors open, turning on all the lights. He went from room to room, kicking aside anything that blocked his path. He was in hurricane mode.

  ‘You don’t think she’s in here, do you?’ Alisha said.

  The bedrooms empty, Greg stormed down the stairs into the lounge to greet a wide-eyed Erin, where she waited, a knitted blanket around her shoulders. ‘Baby, what’s—’

  ‘We’re dead!’ he barked.

  Ryan helped himself to a glass of wine and poured one for Greg, too – the poor guy seemed to be spiralling out of control.

  ‘If Ja— whoever that was, saw us, and God knows how long she was there – then she might have seen the whole thing for all we know. The body, the boat, everything!’ he repeated, eyes wide, nostrils flared, like a bull entering the ring.

  ‘We don’t know that,’ Alisha said, trying to soothe her brother’s temper.

  ‘If that was Janey,’ Ryan drained his glass and refilled, ‘then she’s come back from the grave, mate. I don’t think she’s calling anyone, let alone the cops, do you? She’s waited this long for a reason.’ He offered Greg the wine, but Greg batted it away.

  The veins in Greg’s temple seemed to pulse. ‘We need to find her. We need to find her NOW before she can get to anyone else.’

  Ryan frowned. If Greg was seriously suggesting what he thought he was . . . Ryan saw Katie’s mouth fall open and guessed that his friend had reached the same conclusion.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Katie gasped. ‘Are you saying that we should kill her, too?’

  ‘What? No . . . that’s not what I . . . shut up!’ Greg snapped.

  ‘Greg, chill, man.’ Ben held a hand to Greg’s chest, which only seemed to anger him further.

  ‘Get your ______ hands off me!’ Ryan again censored for the more delicate viewer. Greg shoved Ben back, the way footballers do referees.

  Katie immediately went to Ben’s defence. That was one of the things Ryan most admired about her: she had always, always stood up to bullies. ‘Then what did you mean, Greg? What are you going to do if you find her?’

  Greg looked confused. ‘I said shut up!’ he snarled.

  ‘No! You have to listen to me, Greg.’ Katie took hold of his shoulders. ‘I mean, is that the plan now, to go around killing everyone who might tell on us? Are we next, Greg? We all saw. When does it stop?’

  It happened so fast. Greg’s hands were suddenly clamped around Katie’s throat. Greg was so much bigger. He dwarfed Katie, making her seem frail. With all his weight, he thrust her backwards and she hit the wall, her head making contact with the rim of the mirror.

  His hands tightened around her neck. He was going to kill her.

  SCENE 24 – RYAN

  Cliffhanger ending, or what? Evil Greg throttles virtuous Katie. Cut to credits, with no ‘next time’ trailer to reveal poor Katie’s fate. It was all so unexpected that Ryan failed to react for a second, then his brain finally worked out that this wasn’t all for his entertainment.

  He was nearest. He leapt forwards, knocking his glass of wine to the tiles, where it shattered into vicious-looking shards. He grabbed Greg’s arm, but Greg was strong. It was like his whole body was locked onto Katie. Her eyes were wide with terror, her cheeks flushed.

  Ben was right behind Ryan. Although less ripped than Greg, Ben was taller. He hoisted Greg’s chin up so that, in reflex, Greg fell backwards, releasing Katie. She slid down the wall as Alisha and Erin rushed over to her. Greg and Ben both staggered back and toppled over the coffee table.

  Ben howled as he struggled to his feet again, stepping on the broken glass and slicing his heel open. It didn’t deter him for a second, though. He wriggled free and lunged at Greg, grasping his vest and lifting him off the tiles. With more strength than Ryan would have given him credit for, Ben shook Greg as if he were a ragdoll. ‘Come on, then!’ spat Ben. ‘If you wanna fight, fight me!’

  Ryan took a step back, assessing the chaos. It was carnage; there was a crimson filter over everything. ‘What are you doing? Ben, stop!’ he yelled over the din.

  Ben snorted down his nostrils and shoved Greg back onto the tiles. Greg lay still, his legs hanging over the coffee table and his hands covering his face. Shame. That was pure shame and he deserved to feel it. Ryan turned to Katie.

  Erin was already checking her out. ‘Are you OK? Let me get a look at your neck.’

  Katie nodded, rubbing her throat. There were handprints on her skin and tears ran down her face. She wasn’t OK.

  Greg picked himself up out of the rubble. He and Katie looked at each other from their opposite corners. ‘Katie . . . I’m so sorry.’ His face fell. Whatever demon had possessed him had now left his body. ‘I . . . I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Katie croaked.

  ‘It is not OK!’ Alisha shoved her brother in the chest and he went down again. ‘When did you start hitting girls, Greg? Erin, does he hit you?’

  Erin look on in sheer disbelief. ‘No. God, no! What kind of idiot do you think I am?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Greg repeated, his flushed face a horrid clay colour. ‘I’m gonna . . .’ Greg rose to his feet and powered up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  The lounge decompressed. Ben helped Katie up and tried to embrace her, but Ryan saw her resist.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, pulling away. ‘Please don’t make a fuss.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Katie, but he’s not getting away with that.’ Alisha’s eyes were wild and unblinking. She headed towards the stairs.

  ‘Lish! Please,’ Katie said. ‘Let him cool off. I think I’ve hit my drama limit for the day. For any day. Ever.’

  Behind them, Erin flopped back onto the sofa, sobbing behind her fingers. Ryan went to her side.

  ‘Aw . . . don’t cry,’ he said – more for his sake than hers; Ryan found crying people very hard to deal with.

  ‘I want to go home,’ she wept.

  Ryan rubbed her back, unsure of what to say. What does one say after someone’s boyfriend has just tri
ed to strangle someone else? This was uncharted conversation territory for all of them. ‘It’s gonna be fine,’ was the best he could do.

  ‘I’ve never seen him like that. I . . . I was so scared,’ Erin sobbed.

  ‘We all were,’ Katie murmured. Typical Katie, allowing Erin to steal her spotlight. Ryan would never stand for that.

  ‘I want to go home,’ Erin repeated. ‘I hardly know any of you . . . I just want to go back to halls and see my friends and ring my mum.’

  Poor thing, thought Ryan. Whoever Erin was, she was now bonded to them for life. This secret would hold them together forever. That was pretty cool, actually. A dark secret. They could all meet up in ten years’ time for a Murder Club reunion. One of them would die then, too, naturally, leading neatly into a sequel.

  Ryan shivered, remembering that it was all really happening.

  ‘It will all seem different in the morning,’ Katie said soothingly. She looked to Ryan for support but he drew a blank. What was this poor girl to think? She’d only known most of them for a few days and now she was an accessory to murder – or something like that. Greg should never have brought her. What kind of monster brings a girlfriend on a mates’ holiday, anyway?

  ‘I’m not staying with Greg tonight,’ Erin said firmly, shaking her dainty head. ‘No way. Not after what he did, total effing psycho.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s—’ Ryan started, but he’d just seen something he’d never thought possible so he broke off.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Ben said as he tended to his bleeding foot. ‘Rox won’t be using the sofa-bed, will she?’

  Erin nodded and wiped her nose. ‘Fine. I’m leaving first thing in the morning.’

  ‘You can’t!’ Ryan said, perhaps a little more forcefully than he’d intended. ‘If we go home early, people will know there’s something wrong. They’ll ask questions. You know I’m right.’

  Katie rubbed her eyes. ‘He does have a point . . .’

  The silence that followed suggested Alisha and Ben also agreed, albeit reluctantly.

  ‘And what about Janey? Shouldn’t we find her?’ Alisha said finally.

  Oh, God, Janey. ‘Do you really think it was her?’ Ryan felt his brain jump tracks back to that worry. There were so many in his head, he was struggling to keep up.

  ‘You saw her,’ Alisha told him.

  ‘We all saw someone.’ Ben winced as he held a dish cloth to his heel.

  Alisha pouted. ‘Are you saying she didn’t look like Janey? Ben, it was her.’

  ‘So where is she?’ Ryan snapped. Another silence followed. ‘Let’s get real for a second which, I know, coming from me is pretty rich. But are we really saying that Janey Bradshaw, who wouldn’t go into town by herself because a tramp once touched her leg, has staged her own death and then returned on the one-year anniversary to wreak revenge?’

  ‘No!’ Ben said firmly. ‘We were at her funeral. She’s dead.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if it was Janey, though?’ Alisha demanded. ‘Isn’t it better if Janey killed Rox than if it was one of us?’

  ‘Janey is one of us,’ Katie said sadly.

  Ben inspected his wound. ‘Maybe the girl we saw was someone else.’

  ‘What? A clone? An evil twin?’ Ryan asked. ‘And people say I live in fantasy land!’

  ‘I’m just thinking of all the possibilities. We all assumed one of us killed Roxanne because of the blackmail thing, but what if there is someone else – someone who’s been watching the villa. Watching us.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a comforting thought.’ Ryan rolled his eyes. ‘We’re miles from anywhere at the mercy of a beautiful psycho girl. At least it’s original.’ He walked to the patio doors and gazed out. The sea rolled onto the beach, insects buzzed around the lanterns, the filter whirred in the pool. But, beyond that, in the hills, there was only darkness and what the darkness contained. Anyone could be waiting for them, watching.

  Katie suddenly jumped off the sofa and darted into the kitchen.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Alisha asked.

  ‘I just had an awful thought,’ Katie shouted back at them. ‘We didn’t lock the doors. She could be inside the villa.’

  ‘Greg checked the bedrooms,’ Ryan reminded her, shrugging it off.

  ‘But he didn’t check everywhere.’ Katie’s voice was full of apprehension. ‘Nobody looked in the cellar . . .’

  SCENE 25 – ALISHA

  Alisha gulped. It felt like there was a lump of apple lodged in her throat, Snow-White style. The door to the cellar was next to the fridge-freezer in the kitchen. It opened with a fingers-on-blackboard screech and a wave of stale, damp, earthy air hit them as if they’d opened a sealed tomb. Alisha stared down into the void. The others were right beside her but it brought scant comfort. The kitchen light only illuminated the first three or four stone steps; the rest dissolved into shadows.

  ‘The lights don’t work down there,’ Katie admitted.

  ‘Of course they don’t,’ Ryan deadpanned. ‘It wouldn’t be nearly as scary with the lights on, would it?’

  ‘I’ll get a torch,’ said Katie, turning away to rummage around in the cupboard under the sink.

  ‘Hello?’ Ben called down into the gloom. ‘Anyone there?’

  Predictably there was no response.

  ‘You didn’t actually think that was going to work, did you?’ Alisha laughed. It was pretty scary, but she figured that as long as they all stuck together they’d be fine.

  ‘It was worth a try.’ Ben took the torch from Katie. ‘Come on, Ryan.’

  Ryan took a great stride backwards. ‘Are you mad? Why do I have to go?’

  ‘Cos we’re the guys.’

  ‘Ben Murdoch, that is pure sexism.’

  Alisha chuckled. ‘On this occasion, I fully support the sexism.’

  Ryan scowled at her. ‘Women died for equal rights, Alisha.’

  ‘They died for the right to vote, not for this.’ She waved a hand at the obvious gateway to hell that stood before her.

  Ben sighed. ‘Ryan, don’t be a wuss. There’s probably nothing down there, anyway.’ He shone the torch down the stairs, which seemed to go on forever.

  ‘Probably?’ Alisha didn’t care for those odds. Still, they couldn’t stand here all night and here was a chance to prove, for once, that she wasn’t totally useless. ‘Sod it. Let’s get it over with. I’ll go.’

  ‘We’ll all go,’ Katie said. ‘Safety in numbers.’

  ‘No!’ Erin gripped Katie’s arm. ‘Wait here with me. I’m not going down there. You all think I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid.’ She glared at them with red, sore eyes. ‘I’ve had enough of this crap. I just wanted a week in the sun with my boyfriend and I ended up trapped with a load of freaks and murderers.’

  Alisha couldn’t face another argument. ‘Fine.’

  ‘I’ll wait with Katie, too,’ Ryan said. ‘Just in case.’

  Ben glared at him. ‘Ryan, you are such a p—’

  ‘Er – swam with a shark to save your arses!’ Ryan pointed out.

  Ben backed down. ‘Whatever. Come on, Lish.’

  ‘After you,’ she said with an optimistic smile. For the first time since they’d found Roxanne, it felt like it was OK to smile again. Hell, if the tables had been turned, Rox would have had them all doing commemorative tequila slammers and playing strip poker by now. She might have been a total cow, but she knew how to party. Ben returned the smile and took the lead.

  As soon as Alisha stepped onto the stairs, the air changed. It was cooler, for one thing, and the walls glistened with moisture. The fusty air caught in the back of her nostrils and she was acutely reminded of her fear of cellars. The odour was so familiar, unlocking some childhood terror she must have repressed.

  Without thinking, she grabbed Ben’s free hand in both of hers. She hated being so feeble, but this was almost worse than the boat trip. Ben’s torch was weak, casting only a thin puddle of light.

  ‘All right?’ he asked.

/>   She nodded, but wasn’t. They were hunting for a dead girl. What if Janey really was down here? What then? And Janey was probably the best-case scenario. Anyone else, a stranger, wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them.

  Janey’s funeral drifted back into her mind as it had done several times that evening. She recalled sitting outside the chapel, behind the hut where they ran Sunday School for kids. She’d crouched behind a wheelie bin drinking peach schnapps, the sugary concoction all she’d been able to get her hands on.

  The undertakers had been having a cigarette outside the fire escape. The shroud of drizzle had abated for five minutes, but the sky was still a menacing mercury grey. They’d been entirely unaware of Alisha’s presence.

  ‘Poor cow,’ a spotty young undertaker with a face like a stoat had said. ‘Four weeks she was in the sea, you know.’

  ‘Aye,’ his elderly colleague had agreed. ‘By the time she washed up in the marina, there was nothing left of her. Fish food.’

  At the time Alisha had been so drunk she’d hardly processed their words beyond mild disgust, but now she wondered. What had been dragged out of the sea was a blob, by all accounts. Between the fall onto the rocks and the weeks of decay, it was a wonder they’d identified Janey at all. So wondrous, in fact, that perhaps they hadn’t. Who had they buried? What if it wasn’t Janey?

  Janey Bradshaw, back from the grave and out for revenge. Alisha imagined her crawling out of the sea at Telscombe Cliffs, clawing her way over the shingle, that red dress in tatters. Maybe she’d come out of the sea wrong – damaged, somehow. Not Janey, but something else. Something evil enough to kill.

  Alisha clung tighter to Ben’s hand and kicked her vivid imagination into touch. She’d been spending too much time around Ryan.

  The stone stairs were worn smooth. The light from the kitchen faded as they neared the bottom and the cracked, off-white walls gleamed like bone. The narrow passage opened out into the cellar. It was more spacious than Alisha would have liked, with far too many hiding places. It was cave-like down here; somewhere water dripped from the ceiling, each drop echoing like they were at the bottom of a well.