As they turned onto the abandoned lane that led to the mine, the tension lifted. This was their lane now, leading to their hut. And standing in the middle of it, they waited for Georgia and Chloe to nip back to Georgia’s and come back with some of her dad’s alcohol. Neve stood a little distance from the others, trying to light a cigarette, the total darkness only illuminated for the length of a flint spark. Jamie joined her, lighter in hand.
‘Here,’ he said as he sparked it, allowing Neve to ignite the tip of her cigarette.
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly between puffs.
‘No problem.’ He smiled at her.
In the low light Neve watched him take a breath, like he was about to saying something to her, but before he could, Baz interrupted.
‘Here they come.’
Ahead, two dark silhouettes wandered towards them. Michael saw them and knew it was Georgia and Chloe, but he couldn’t stop the hairs on his forearms standing on end.
‘I’m sorry, guys,’ Georgia said, disappointed. ‘Dad was up, seemed really keen to talk to Chloe about college. I couldn’t get anything.’
The group wandered further into the canopy of trees, deeper into the darkness until they reached their hut. One by one they crawled inside, where they lit candles and turned on the radio. It had been over a week since they were there and there was a warm, damp feeling in the air. The heat of the summer evaporated the remnants of empty hooch bottles and lager cans that lay around the place, leeching the vapour into the air. With no ventilation besides two small spy holes, the air became thick. Michael began to tidy, as he often did, as the others settled into their space.
‘So, here we are, and there is nothing to drink. Great,’ sighed Neve, who was slumped into a beanbag.
‘Yeah, some “night to remember”,’ complained Holly, out of character. ‘I’m just gonna go home.’ She moved towards the hatch to leave.
‘No, don’t go,’ Baz said, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Come on. Let’s celebrate our freedom from school.’
‘How long can we possibly celebrate leaving school? It’s been weeks now,’ Holly asked.
‘Until we start something new, come on, it’s a big deal. We are free of that place.’
‘Not really, I’m going back for sixth form.’
‘We are all free besides Chloe then,’ Baz laughed. ‘My point is, we finished, together, which is shocking because I would have put money on Michael being expelled.’
‘Yeah right, if anyone was gonna get kicked out it was you,’ chuckled Michael.
‘And,’ Baz continued, ‘I know I keep banging on about it, but this is our last summer together.’
‘You’re so pessimistic,’ Georgia said. ‘Surely it will be like this every summer?’
She looked around for confirmation, but no one was able to do so. Baz was right: after this summer, everything would change. And in the silence, the room felt sullen. A light bulb went off in Baz’s head and grabbing an empty bottle of 20/20 he told the group to sit around the coffee table.
‘Baz, if you think I’m playing spin the bottle with you, you’re dreaming. I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk,’ said Georgia.
‘We’re not playing spin the bottle, and anyway – rude!’
‘So, what are we playing?’ asked Michael, rolling a joint.
‘We…’ continued Baz, proud of himself for having the idea, ‘are going to have a game of truth or dare.’
The group reacted, the idea exciting them. Truth or dare would mean that Neve would undoubtedly get to kiss Jamie, especially if she went for a dare. She exchanged a glance with Chloe, who knew exactly what she was thinking. The gang moved into a circle, apart from Holly who was still by the hatch entrance, watching. Baz placed the bottle on the floor in the middle of the group who shuffled into place around it, ensuring they were equidistant to one another. Neve and Jamie caught each other’s eye. As Baz had proposed the game, he got to spin the bottle first; he twisted it hard, and the bottle somersaulted. The group held their breath, waiting to see where it would stop. The top finally rested, facing Chloe.
‘Truth or dare?’ he asked.
‘Umm, dare. No, truth.’
‘OK, truth,’ interjected Georgia. ‘Chloe, who do you fancy from school. A teacher, I mean.’
Chloe shot Georgia a look; she knew full well who Chloe fancied from school, and she was annoyed that Georgia had indirectly betrayed her trust by asking her. The rules were the rules. So Chloe told her friends she had always liked Mr Hawes, the school’s drama teacher who was probably close to fifty, and far too old for a 16-year-old to like.
‘But he’s so old!’ protested Baz.
‘Yeah, but he’s mature and wise.’
‘Oh God, Chloe, that’s kinda gross,’ said Neve. ‘And anyway, why didn’t I know about this?’
‘Because you can’t keep secrets, Neve. Shall we move on?’ Neve knew Chloe was right, but it didn’t take the sting out of her words.
Chloe spun the bottle, it wobbled and stopped on Jamie. ‘Truth or dare.’
‘Truth,’ he said quietly.
‘Oh, let me have this one!’ said Michael, grinning from ear to ear. ‘So, Jamie, in keeping with the previous question, who do you fancy from school?’
‘I don’t fancy any of the teachers.’
‘I mean students, which student do you fancy from school?’
Jamie opened his mouth to speak and closed it again as the colour rushed to his face.
‘So, who is it?’
‘Can I change it to a dare?’ he asked, barely able to look up in case he caught Neve’s eye.
‘Nope, rules are rules,’ said Baz, enjoying watching his friend squirm.
‘Baz, Michael. We all know the answer. Does he really need to say?’ said Chloe, trying to help out Neve who was blushing so intensely, her cheeks were the same shade of pink as Michael’s stoned eyes.
‘Yes,’ the boys replied simultaneously. ‘Jamie! You have to answer!’
‘Neve,’ he said quietly under his breath.
‘Sorry, mate, didn’t quite catch that, could you speak up?’
‘I said…’ he paused and looked over to Neve sat opposite before looking back at his feet. ‘I said Neve.’
The boys exploded into applause, whooping and cheering their friend, slapping him on the back and tousling his hair. ‘Finally, he’s bloody said it!’ Baz applauded. The girls smiled sympathetically at both Jamie and Neve, who couldn’t look at one another.
‘OK, we’ve tormented the lad enough,’ Georgia said. ‘Let’s carry on. Lover boy, your turn to spin.’
Jamie leant forward and spun the bottle. It landed on Michael.
‘Truth or dare?’ he asked, his voice still quiet, his embarrassment still raw.
‘Let’s mix this up a bit. Dare.’
‘OK, I’ve got one,’ Neve interjected, wanting to make Michael pay for embarrassing Jamie. ‘As we’ve run out of booze, go into the village and get some from the offie.’
‘Neve, we’ve been through this. We’ve got no money or ID.’
‘Exactly. I dare you to steal some.’
Chapter 29
26th November 2019
Night
It had been over twenty-four hours since Georgia failed to show at the hut, and still no one knew where she was. Rumours had started to spread around the village – another missing. Georgia, like Jamie, had disappeared without a trace. We had been out, searching half the night for her, and all I managed to find was a chill that crept into my bones and the niggling tingle in the back of my throat which threatened to become a cold. Baz called the police late last night to report her missing, and because of Jamie, they took it seriously and began to widen their search, starting by asking us what we knew about her last movements. It was good that they were being proactive in finding both Jamie and now Georgia. But bad news travels fast, and just after dawn, more people descended onto the village. I hadn’t seen it myself, but there were whisperings of the BBC being here
. This wasn’t local news anymore. This was beginning to capture the nation.
Baz understandably seemed to struggle more than the rest with Georgia going missing. He hadn’t slept and refused to, because he’d been the last to see her as she had been to his house the evening before, where they had dinner together. It meant that the police asked a few more questions of him than the rest of us. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to get a picture of her mental state or seeking to establish if he was someone they should be watching. The police also asked Georgia’s dad to come in. It was likely he’d confirm she was home the time Baz stated, and then got up for work as per usual yesterday morning. They would probably ascertain his mental wellbeing as well as hers. I could only imagine how it must have felt to be speaking with the police again. When she hadn’t come home for lunch, Georgia’s dad hadn’t thought much of it, and it wasn’t until just before six that he began to wonder where she was – and in that time that none of us had seen her, Georgia had vanished.
Just like Jamie.
Just like Chloe.
I’d only come back to help find Jamie, but the combination of seeing the Drifter, the stuff with Dad and now this, made me unsure if I would ever get out. I knew how selfish I was being. I had become that person who was stuck in a traffic jam, complaining about the accident ahead rather than being grateful that I wasn’t involved in it. I couldn’t stop myself feeling frustrated.
The problem was, with the place being so small, so claustrophobic, I wasn’t just figuratively a prisoner. When dawn arrived and people began to discover what was going on, I became effectively housebound, as I had no intention of talking to anyone about what was going on, locals or media alike. Even if I did want to leave my dad’s house – go to the shop to get a bottle of wine or escape to the pub for a few much-needed drinks – I couldn’t. Gossip was ripe, sweet and sticky, a fruit that was falling apart, making an awful mess, and we were all in the middle of it.
So I stayed inside, chatting to the group intermittently on WhatsApp through the day, and waited for something. Esther rang around 3 p.m. waking me from a fitful sleep, as I’d not called the night before. She told me she had just seen the village on the mid-afternoon report on Sky News. She begged me again to leave, come back, but I couldn’t.
From the safety of my dad’s living room, I watched the streets outside get busier with the quiet ramblings of people, nipping to the village centre. They came back with pints of milk, loaves of bread, but really, I knew most were just being nosy, finding an excuse to go out so they could pass the pub to see what was happening. I didn’t judge them for their curious nature, or wanting their fifteen minutes of fame, but did wonder if anyone would care if the same thing happened in London. Probably not; definitely not.
Besides curtain-twitching, and speaking to Esther, the day dragged endlessly as we waited for something. Even the group chat with the others, which seemed fervent earlier in the day, had silenced. We were all holding our breath.
As evening descended, I made Dad and me a pasta bake for tea. Thankfully, he seemed less tense than I felt, and making sure he was comfortable, and the doors were locked, I told him that if anyone knocked, he shouldn’t answer. He agreed, but didn’t question why. I took myself to bed, just after nine. I wasn’t tired, just anxious, and I needed time to process the past few days quietly, alone. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my phone pinged. My first thought, even with everything that was happening, was that it might be Oliver. He knew very little about my childhood, but he knew I was from here. I quickly dismissed it and then wished I’d told him more when I’d had the chance. Knowing it would be from the group chat, or, possibly Esther who wanted to make sure I was still all right, I reached for it. To my surprise, I saw it was a text message from Michael, sent directly to me.
How are you holding up?
I looked at the message, confused. I couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. I’m OK. The waiting is tough.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Already, three dots appeared as he wrote another. I waited to see what he had to say before offering anymore.
Hey, Neve. I need to get out for an hour or so. Do you fancy going for a beer or something?
Won’t people talk?
I don’t mean here, I’ll come pick you up. We can get out, go to Nottingham?
I hesitated; what if we were needed here? What if Georgia was found? What if Jamie turned up? More importantly – what did Michael want from me? Even though I wanted nothing more than to get out of the village, I wasn’t sure I should. Michael, perhaps sensing my hesitation, messaged again.
I’ll tell Baz to call me if we’re needed back. What do you say?
It might help if I filled you in properly on what’s happened in the past 20 years.
He was right, of course. We wouldn’t be disappearing; we were easy to reach. Besides, having time to ask questions and fill in the gaps of the past twenty years I’d not pieced together would probably help, and I knew a few drinks would definitely help.
OK.
Great, I’ll pop over and get you in about 10 minutes?
See you soon.
Rolling out of bed I opened my bag and pulled out the last clean top I had packed. Dressing, I didn’t give myself a second look before heading downstairs. Dad was in his chair, dozing. When I gently touched his shoulder, he stirred.
‘You all right?’ he asked, concern on his face. The man who was cold and uninterested when I first arrived had been transformed.
‘Yes, Dad, I’m just popping out for a bit.’
‘OK, love. I’ll be here,’ he smiled, and in that moment, I felt the need to kiss my father again, the urge was too strong. Leaning in, I kissed him on the cheek, and as I pulled back, I could see something soft in the way he looked at me. The man who was once so tender, so kind, was coming back.
‘See you later, Dad.’
‘Don’t get into any trouble.’
Outside I heard a car pull up, and looking through the curtain, I could see Michael in the driver’s seat. Putting on my shoes and coat, I stepped into the freezing cold air and climbed into the passenger seat.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Hi. God, it’s cold.’
‘Miserable.’
‘So, where are we going?’
‘I thought we’d head to a pub I like on the outskirts of Nottingham. No one will care about what’s going on here.’
‘But it’s all over the news.’
‘It is, and those who care are here.’
He smiled; he was likely right. ‘Sounds perfect, I need a drink.’
‘Me too, but only one, obviously.’
Michael pulled away and as we drove, we chatted aimlessly. We didn’t talk of the village, the mine, of Jamie or Georgia. They were all there, hidden behind our words and the pauses between breaths. I spoke of the café, of Esther. Told him about where I lived in London, and my flat, for which I was beginning to feel homesick, and he told me about his car garage on the outskirts of the village. I didn’t realise quite how well he was doing. He had taken over his uncle’s dilapidated old shed and turned it into the best car mechanic’s in the area. I could tell it was something he loved; just like my little café with Esther, before everything went wrong.
We arrived and Michael pulled into a large pub car park besides a grand old Tudor building. As I climbed out, I looked at the sign. A picture of Robin Hood stood under its name, The Archer’s Inn. Once inside, heat warmed my cheeks from the fire blazing away. I felt the tension in my shoulders melt like butter on freshly made toast. Finding a small table, nestled between two high-backed chairs I told Michael to sit as I went to the bar to buy the first round. I went for a JD and Diet Coke, something to warm me, and Michael asked for a pint. Returning, I handed him his drink, which he took, then turned his phone over, so the screen was face down. For a moment, sitting opposite each other, neither of us spoke. I guess we had to make sure his theory was correct, and no one cared about us – no eyes c
ast our way, asking questions.
It didn’t take long for me to ask the one thing I wanted to know above all others. ‘Michael, do people hate me?’
He considered my question for a moment, which told me what came out of his mouth would be the truth. One I so desperately needed.
‘Not now,’ he said. ‘Yes, when Holly told us you were coming back, it wasn’t well received, and if I’m honest I said I didn’t want to know. But you did come back, and you’re different.’
‘We’re all different,’ I added.
‘We are, but you seem to understand what you did back then. I don’t hate you anymore.’
‘I shouldn’t have run away from it all.’
‘No, you shouldn’t have.’
‘I’ve regretted it ever since.’
‘Have you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course. I was scared, Michael.’
‘Well, the rest of us, we couldn’t run away, we stuck together. We helped each other through it.’
‘How was it, after I went?’
‘Baz cried for weeks. Georgia barely spoke. Even though her dad was never charged, it ruined them both. Holly tried to keep our spirits up, she obsessed over it, every detail. It really affected her.’
‘I didn’t know…’
‘No, you didn’t. I developed a little drug problem, and Jamie… well, Jamie was never the same.’
‘I’m so sorry. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but I struggled too.’
‘Did you?’ he said sceptically.
‘Yes, I had bad dreams, night terrors really. I still get them now. Not every day, like when I was young, a few times a month, maybe?’
‘Dreams, that’s hardly—’
I cut him off, I don’t know why, but I needed him to know that I suffered with the group.
‘I tried uni, I studied business management. I wanted to be a CEO of a big firm, you know. But in second year I had what they called an “episode”. It came from nothing really, I don’t even remember most of it…’ I hesitated as I was transported back to the busy university bar: the screaming, kicking, biting. My friends trying to hold me down. The roof was coming in, or so I thought. And then hospital.
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