The Last Act

by Laura Ellen Kennedy

  His eyes closed for a moment and he smiled very gently. Barely aware of it, I leaned towards him. As his eyes opened again he leaned too until his cheek brushed mine. I felt the heat of his lips brush closer to my mouth and I stopped breathing. Then our lips were together, just touching at first. I wound my hand around the back of his neck. He held my face, threading his fingers into my hair. We both leaned into our kiss. As he held on to me more tightly, his lips were stronger and more urgent. A shuddering sigh shook through me and I woke up.

  I was desolate and alone in the darkness, still clutching my pillow, desperate to retrace my steps back into sleep but knowing the memory of where I’d just been would keep me awake for hours. I was stunned at the strength of the sensations. I’d never had a dream like it. I closed my eyes and traced my mouth with my fingertips. The touch of his lips had been so real.

  For most of the weekend, I was Dad’s prisoner. He worked in his study all day instead of going to the library and, every time I came down from my room, he’d pop his head out and check what I was doing. He insisted I ‘rest up and get well’ but I knew he just wanted to keep me where he knew what I was up to.

  My mind was filled with that dream, the horror of its beginning completely obliterated by Jack – and that kiss – if I closed my eyes I could still feel it. In the light of day though, I was embarrassed at the heat of my imagination. I must have been kissing my pillow in my sleep for it to feel so real.

  The thing was, it hadn’t all been fantasy, had it? I had my doubts, after such a vivid dream, but I had to remind myself that he’d said lovely things to me in reality, too. Did he honestly say he wanted to touch my hair and my face? Did he really call me beautiful? I’d find myself grinning thinking about it. It was probably a good thing I wasn’t being allowed out of the house – I’d have just been walking around blushing and grinning madly and making a fool of myself.

  I tried to watch TV but all I could think about was Jack. Over and over and over, and then when Olivia began to creep into my thoughts, I thought of Jack again. Not just because I wanted to see his face and talk to him and just be with him, but because I needed him too – I had no plan and I was scared.

  After the high of escaping Olivia, and then finding out who she was and what happened to her, after unearthing all that information, I was still defenceless. Once I was back on stage tomorrow, there was nothing that could protect me from her except running away again.

  It made me feel all clammy and hollow, thinking of the way she used my body like it was a mug for her tea – a vessel she could use however she chose. Now, when I looked down at my hands or I looked in the mirror, I saw someone different. I wasn’t completely me, there was something alien in what I saw. You get used to your body. No matter how flawed you feel it is, you begin to take it for granted. But when it suddenly doesn’t feel like it’s yours any more, everything changes.

  Olivia knew just enough about me to invade my life. She knew my lines – that’s how I’d got through rehearsal without anyone realising it wasn’t me. She knew where I lived. But what did she want from me? Revenge? Justice? If she was murdered, maybe she wanted me to avenge her death. Or maybe she was just plain angry that she was dead and didn’t even know what she was doing. Even if she did know what she wanted, was there any way I could find out? I could hardly talk to her, could I? Because as soon as she turned up she claimed ownership of my mouth.

  Should I risk it and try and go to talk to Marion? I’d promised Jack I wouldn’t, and to be honest, it was a relief.

  ‘Zoë?’ I jumped as Dad shouted from the hallway on Sunday morning. ‘I’m going to the shop for a paper and some milk – why don’t you come with me and get some fresh air?’

  I knew why he was asking and it wasn’t to do with fresh air. I felt sad as I shouted to him that I’d get changed and be down in a minute. I missed how we used to be – more like a partnership than father and daughter. It was horrible feeling like he didn’t trust me any more. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, when he’d have to let me out to go to the theatre.

  That evening, I got a brilliantly long email from Katy. It was a welcome distraction and it sounded like they were having the best time, getting up late, lying on the beach for the afternoon, getting chatted up by loads of lads, going back to their apartment where their parents had cooked dinner – and then back out in the evening to the cafés on the waterfront. Katie had written a bit at the bottom too, in the same email. It was so sweet of them to remember me, and Katy wrote in so much detail it almost felt like I was there with them. Part of me would have given anything if I could have been. Another part of me wouldn’t trade the last few days for all the holidays in the world. Because, despite all the terror and frustration I’d been through, I wouldn’t want to give up that excited flutter I felt knowing that, in less than twenty-four hours, I’d see him again.

  Chapter 15

  When I peeked through the doors of the auditorium, he was sitting there in the same seats where we’d talked before, waiting for me.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ He’d turned and smiled that curly smile at me when he heard me come through the doors.

  ‘Hey,’ I answered, smiling broadly back. My stomach flipped and I flushed red again as I sat next to him, I couldn’t helping thinking of that dream. I closed my eyes, trying to push the sensations out of my mind – the tingle of our skin touching, the warmth of his lips brushing my cheek – I couldn’t have a conversation with him if my head was full of that.

  ‘Are you OK?’ He sounded a little sad as he asked.

  ‘Mmhmm,’ I said, biting my lip. I turned to look at him and couldn’t help an embarrassed grin. ‘I had a dream about you.’ Gah, I couldn’t believe how rubbish I was at not saying stuff out loud.

  He smiled, sending me into palpitations. ‘Oh reeaally.’ He raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘You know how it is,’ I tried to backtrack, ‘when you dream about someone, and then you see them and it’s sort of funny . . .’

  ‘Was it a funny dream?’ His smile softened.

  After a moment I shook my head. ‘Not really, no. Not funny . . .’ I said quietly.

  ‘I had a dream about you, too.’

  My insides flipped – yet again. ‘Oh rreeeaally?’ I grinned again, arching my eyebrow back at him. ‘What was I doing in yours?’

  He pursed his lips for a second in the cutest guilty expression and I laughed. ‘I’m not going to tell you anything. It was . . . nice.’ He smiled at me again and I was sure I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. ‘If yours was nice too, let’s not spoil it by describing them? We could pretend we had the same one.’

  I just nodded as I looked at him, because I couldn’t speak.

  After a moment, he looked away, suddenly seeming upset. ‘I’m so sorry, Zoë. I feel horrible. I hoped once we got here and were sitting together like this that I’d have a plan. I made you promise not to go to see Marion, but now I don’t have any answers. It’s only a few more minutes until your rehearsal starts and you’re facing the same danger as before – I don’t know how to protect you. If I could think of anything, I swear, I’d do it . . .’

  I felt a wrench in my chest to see him look so sad.

  ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ I offered. ‘I didn’t want to go and see Marion anyway. I was too scared. Promising you I wouldn’t was just the easiest way of chickening out. Besides,’ I added, ‘it’s not up to you to solve all my problems. I don’t exactly have a plan either.’

  ‘We’ll just have to do what we did last time.’ He looked at me sadly again as he shrugged. ‘But, chances are, you’ll have to run off stage again.’ He was right. I barely noticed him stand and edge towards the aisle. ‘I’ll get up there now. Look for me as soon as you’re on stage?’

  I smiled weakly at him and nodded. I gathered my bag to go backstage while he disappeared.

  I was just dropping my bag in the green room when Anton and Gemma walked in. I don’t know why shock turned my stomach – I kne
w I’d see them – they just caught me off guard and I froze.

  ‘I need a drink,’ Gemma said to Anton as soon as she saw me. ‘Let’s go to the café.’

  Anton obediently turned and followed Gemma straight out of the room. Neither of them would even look at me. I felt a weight on my chest and had to slump on to one of the sofas and steel myself against tears.

  All I could do was try my best to keep going. To get back up on that stage and just wait while Jack played lookout for me again. My palms started to feel clammy as I thought of Olivia getting me. But we’d beaten her once. We could do it again.

  ‘We’ve got hours and hours completely to ourselves . . .’ came Anton’s line.

  I got ready to walk on stage, trying to keep my breathing regular, trying not to panic. I looked at Jack. He was nodding and giving me an OK sign. Knowing he was watching meant I could go on.

  ‘Why . . . Rebecca, darling . . . I thought you’d left over an hour ago. I . . .’ said Anton.

  ‘So it seems. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Tristan.’ HA! That was me! I stole a glance at Jack, hope surging through me. I delivered that line. Alone! Jack was smiling his kissable, curly smile and nodding as I carried on, his eyebrows were raised in encouragement.

  ‘I’ll give you an hour to pack your things . . .’ I went on. Could that be it? Maybe, just maybe, it was over. I was getting to say my lines with Anton for the first time in what felt like a really, really long time.

  Could it be possible that Olivia just wanted me to find out about her story? Could it be that she just wanted me to know what happened to her? Maybe, once I’d read those newspaper articles, that was enough to satisfy her?

  ‘ . . . or it might be more than adultery you’re charged with when I get my lawyer on to this.’ I finished my line and, high on my own sensations, I turned back to where I’d come on, ready to take Tristan’s bullet.

  As I heard him fumble in the prop sideboard behind me, it suddenly made me think how horrible it must have been that night – when Olivia was killed. I shivered. Everyone in the audience would have been watching, thinking how convincing it was as the bullet went into her. They probably gasped at the realistic blood that seeped out, thinking how impressive the stage make-up and effects were. And the shock on her face as she spun round and fell down – what fantastic acting . . . How long must it have been before the realisation had started to spread through the crowd – that it was real?

  The thought of it made me feel dizzy. I could see it all happen so vividly, I felt sick. I heard Steve pop the balloon to signal the gunshot and I spun round, throwing Tristan that fleeting look of shock and anger before I collapsed, just like we’d rehearsed. Falling on to the hard wooden stage, I thought I’d seen Jack waving . . . I heard him shout my name just too late . . . just as my vision started to blur and darken.

  Olivia was clever. She’d learned from her mistakes, just like me. This time she’d waited until we’d let our guards down, until my back was turned and I couldn’t see Jack. She’d stayed hidden until I was lying on the stage, unable to run away when Jack shouted his warning. And then she got me.

  It might sound weird but after the panic of it, when I realised she’d taken over, the horror of it didn’t feel so strong this time. I knew what was happening to me and I knew who was doing it. A part of me even thought that at least I’d actually get though the rehearsal without having to run away again.

  When Anton and Gemma carried me off stage at the end of that scene, Jack was waiting. He stalked over as I got up. He looked at me – well, Olivia – angrily and, while the others were moving the chaise longue, for a moment we were together, hidden in the shadows of the wings.

  ‘Olivia, you leave Zoë alone,’ he hissed. ‘You’re destroying her life – it’s not fair.’

  ‘Don’t tell me about fair – just don’t even get me started,’ Olivia growled through my gritted teeth, turning back to help the others move the props.

  It was so strange to have Jack talk to me as Olivia, and when I spoke back, knowing he knew I wasn’t me. It was horrible to have him look so angrily at me, I hadn’t seen him look like that before. But he was still beautiful, even with fury in his expression. And I had to remind myself he was angry because he wanted to protect me. He was angry at Olivia because of what she was doing to me.

  But there was nothing he could do. Olivia had walked away and was setting up with the others for the next scene. She glanced back at him for a moment, shooting him a warning glance. He was fuming but just watching. What could he do? He couldn’t continue the conversation with Olivia with everyone there. To him I was Olivia but, to them, I was Zoë. If he tried to speak to her, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone – he’d seem crazy. She was safe while she was there on stage with the others, and she wasn’t going anywhere – at least not until our tea break, when she went right out of the theatre, taking me with her.

  So much for getting through a rehearsal finally.

  ‘Hey Zoë, where are you going – you OK?’ David called after me. He was smoking outside the theatre as Olivia rushed me through the doors and down the steps. He was on his own because Gemma was making Anton quit. It was so wonderful to hear him speak to me, they’d all been so careful not to. It was like he’d decided to make an effort to reach out to me.

  But as soon as I felt a gleam of hope, it was gone – Olivia turned around, looked him up and down, and then without a word, turned back and kept on walking. It was about as damning a snub as you could get. I wanted to scream and scream at her. How dare she? What had I ever done to her that she could do this to me? I didn’t care what she’d been through – it was just plain evil. I needed Jack. Where was he? He’d made me belive we were in this together. He made me need him – and now he’d left me alone.

  It took about fifteen minutes of walking for me to realise where Olivia was taking me. It was when we took the track across the fields that I knew. She was taking me to Marion’s house. I couldn’t understand how she knew where to go, unless she used my memories and thoughts somehow, like they were files on a computer she’d hacked into – or, unless she had been with me all the time . . . that even when I got my body back, she was still with me in some way . . . In that hypnotised state I was all too familiar with by now, I watched as Olivia took me through the kissing gate at the other edge of the field and out on to the road that led to Marion’s cul-de-sac. It must have been well past eight p.m. by then, because it was getting dark.

  I watched her bang on the door with my fist and I was terrified of what she might do. Being careful clearly wasn’t something she was bothered about. I guess life’s too short to worry about that sort of thing when you’re dead. But if she thought it was Marion’s fault she was dead, she might do anything – and if she was right, so could Marion.

  I don’t know how much of my own rage was coursing through me and how much of it was Olivia’s. But if Olivia had been alive and standing in front of me right then, after all this, I wondered if I’d have been angry enough to murder her myself.

  Everything was dark and still despite Olivia’s banging. I prayed Marion was out, not just asleep and about to wake up – or worse, hiding and terrified, about to call the police.

  If the police came and I was arrested, would I have a criminal record for the rest of my life? Causing a public disturbance? Assault? I’m sure Olivia was willing the hall light to come on, for the light to shine out suddenly through the glass panels of the door, for a human shape to appear in the hallway. I was willing it not to.

  Chapter 16

  Another few minutes passed and nothing happened. It seemed I was safe. For now. Olivia crouched down on the floor and rifled through my bag, finding my notebook and pen. I had to watch as she wrote a vicious note with my hand.

  You won’t get away with murder. You might have killed me, but Rebecca has come back to life – and she’ll have her revenge for what Tristan and Diana did to her – you know what happens in the last act. Your only hope is to confess
now – before it’s too late.

  The last act? That’s when Rebecca realises she’s going to die in the cellar. It’s the middle of the night and, knowing her cheating husband and his mistress are asleep upstairs, she decides that if she’s going to die in her own house, she’ll take them with her. She gathers the gas canisters in the cellar and starts a fire . . . Was Olivia threatening to burn down Marion’s house – while she was still inside?

  I couldn’t believe she was going to post it, but the moment she’d finished, she stuffed the note through the letterbox, lacerating my finger on the tightly-sprung metal flap in the process. This mad woman wouldn’t be satisfied until I was either in hospital or jail.

  Hospital or jail. I know it’s crazy, but when I thought about it then I started considering throwing myself down the stairs or something, the next opportunity I got. Hospital was better than jail – and at least if I was laid up in hospital that would limit the damage she could do to my life. I wouldn’t be allowed to go out – I might even be sedated. I was even visualising it, lying in a bed with broken bones in casts and not able to move, before my reason kicked in. I realised with anger that this dead woman had already left me scratched, grazed and bruised. Now she was making me want to hurt myself as well? I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. If I was going to beat her I had to stay strong. She might want to destroy me but I wasn’t about to help her.

  There was a great rumble of thunder as we moved away from the house and back on to the road. By the time we got to that gate again, it was raining quite hard. Big, heavy drops hit the overheated pavement. I longed to smell it and feel the moisture in the air and the drops on my skin, but I was engulfed in Olivia’s dark, numbing cage. She marched us home and, while the sky darkened, the track across the field got squidgier with mud at every step.