We got to the house and she got in through the back door using my key. She headed straight for the stairs. She didn’t even stop to think about taking off my dirt-caked shoes. Even in the almost-dark I could see her trampling great, wet splodges of mud and grass all over the hall carpet with my ruined shoes. I couldn’t work out if it was rudeness to the point of disrespect or just plain madness – but, every time I thought she’d reached the last straw with making my life miserable, she found one more way to make things worse.
Then I heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway. Olivia stopped still in the doorway, looking out through the window of the front door, but he wasn’t in view yet. I heard him get out and slam the car door. I heard the jangle of his keys. Then the security light in the porch flicked on with a sudden, bright flash. Olivia let out a little yelp, then there was that familiar, welcome rush and then blackness.
I had just come round and sat up on the hall carpet when the main light clicked on too. Having carefully unlaced and removed his shoes in the porch, he was now faced with dirty great clumps of mud stamped into the carpet anyway.
‘What the hell are you playing at, Zoë? Have you seen this mess? And you left the back door open and you’re soaked through – and why are you creeping about in the dark?’
‘Erm . . .’ I really couldn’t think of an explanation. ‘I passed out . . .’
I saw Dad’s face flicker with concern for a second, but this clearly wasn’t the best time to confess everything.
‘Well, you certainly didn’t ruin this carpet while you were passed out, that’s for sure. I’ve had a long day, Zoë, really long.’ He put his briefcase down and rubbed his face – he did look wiped out. ‘I just wanted to relax with a drink . . . I can’t handle this now. I’m going out for an hour or two. I want you to do the best you can to clean this up and I want you to think very carefully about what the hell’s going on with you lately because, frankly, I can’t. I give up trying to figure out what’s going on in your head.’ He turned back into the porch, shoes still in hand, and shut the door loudly behind him.
The words rang in my head: ‘I give up’. I knew he only meant just for now, this minute, not for ever, and I know kids have done way worse things than ruin a carpet. But I felt totally deflated then. I couldn’t bear it that Dad didn’t like me any more.
I felt so angry and so alone, scrubbing and dabbing at the floor. And, on top of everything, I couldn’t get Jack out of my head. The one person I’d be able to talk to about Olivia and everything she’d done to me that evening and I couldn’t get in touch with him. I felt hurt that he hadn’t come after me when Olivia took me out of the theatre. He said he wanted to protect me. He said that if he could think of anything to help he’d do it, but then something as simple as following to see if I was OK he wouldn’t do? I was starting to think what he said and what he did were two very different things.
My thoughts fuelled a growing ball of anger inside me. And what was it with this whole phone arrangement anyway? He must be lying about his mobile being broken – you’d just get a new one, or get it fixed, wouldn’t you? Everyone has a mobile. Even Katy’s ten-year-old little sister had one.
In my mind, I could see his smiling face and the thumbs-up signal he’d kept giving me. My anger sank away as I remembered the feeling I’d had, knowing he was watching over me, ready to give me a smile whenever I needed it – I’d felt safe, happy, excited. Like I mattered. Like I was beautiful even. Then I thought about how little I really knew about him and how defensive he got whenever I got too close to him.
Why did everything have to be so hard?
I’d just laid my head on my pillow when my phone rang again. This time I didn’t have to pick it up to get that electric thrill. I leaped to answer.
‘Jack?’
‘Zoë? Thank God you’re OK. I couldn’t find you – you are OK?’
‘Yes, I’m OK.’ I’d been so angry with him still, but in a second he had me again, the concern in his voice was obvious.
‘I’m so sorry. She came out of nowhere and your back was turned – and she wouldn’t listen when I tried to speak to her – then at break time I lost her. She left from the other side of the stage and by the time I got to the front she was gone . . . Did anything horrible happen?’
I couldn’t understand how he’d lost sight of me so easily, but it was obvious he was upset.
‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault – I let my guard down too. It was all deliberate – she knows what she’s doing, she knew I wouldn’t see your warning if she waited until I turned away. I heard you call out, but it was too late. It doesn’t matter now. Anyway, you’ll never guess where she took me: Marion’s.’
‘Oh, God,’ Jack groaned. ‘What happened?’
I told him about the note, the new injury and the hallway carpet. ‘For better or worse, I guess she took the decision out of my hands about talking to Marion. I can’t go back there now. That was a pretty crazy note – crazy enough to get me into serious trouble. And if I went to see her now, and tried to explain what’s happening, it’d be obvious it was me that put it through her door. She said about Rebecca coming back to life, and as far as I know, I’m the only incarnation of Rebecca around right now. I’m not going to give her the chance to call the police on me. No, all I can do now is keep my head down and hope she doesn’t do anything with the note or find out about the play and who I am.’
‘You really think you’d get in trouble for that? Just a note?’
‘Yes, I think so – there was a proper threat in there.’ Then something occurred to me. ‘Besides, after what I did to Anton and Gemma, if the police got involved and that came out too . . .’
‘You’d get away with it. They wouldn’t be able to look at a face like yours and put you in jail . . .’
‘What, a face covered in cuts and scars, you mean?’
‘Oh yeah, you have a point there.’
We both laughed. But I’d started thinking about Anton and Gemma again and, of course, Jack noticed right away that I’d gone quiet.
‘You OK?’ he asked softly.
‘I’m losing everyone, Jack. You’re the only one left who doesn’t hate me.’ I knew I was wallowing but I couldn’t help it.
‘They don’t hate you – no one could hate you. They’re just confused because they don’t know what’s happening, that’s all. We just have to find a way to show them. And we will. I promise.’ I didn’t know how he did it but he could always make me feel better. ‘I saw you with your friends before this all got so out of hand, and I could see how they feel about you. They see all the same things I see: your passion, your talent, your humour and strength. That doesn’t all go away overnight. You’ll get them back when this is all over.’ It was too much of a compliment for me to take. I couldn’t understand how he really believed all that.
‘I don’t know where you get this stuff from Jack,’ I laughed.
‘I hope you’re not going to try to argue with me, because you won’t win.’ I could hear the grin in his voice and picturing it made me long to see him.
‘Will you be at the theatre tomorrow, if I’m early?’ I asked, wishing I didn’t have to wait even that long.
‘I’m always there,’ he answered with a little laugh. It was true.
‘Don’t you get tired of it?’
‘Sometimes I wish I could do more, you know, be other places, have a life. But I do love it. The magic. You can create new worlds that live and breathe and unfold in front of you. You know?’
‘Yes, I do.’ I wondered just how exactly the same we felt. ‘Do you ever want to act? To actually be in that different world?’
‘I don’t think I have the talent for it. I don’t think I could deal with creating all those different emotions. I couldn’t separate it from life, they’d spill over.’
‘But it’s a great way to let out the emotions you have already. You can channel them and vent them, and come away feeling calmer.’
‘Is that how it
works for you? I can’t imagine having that much control over it – whereas with set-dressing and lighting, you have complete control. You don’t just feel like you’re in that different world, you feel like you’re creating it and controlling it. You basically get to feel like God.’
‘Ahh, I see, now I think I’m getting a better idea of how your mind works . . .’ I laughed.
There was a silence for a moment.
‘Hello?’ I couldn’t hear anything. ‘Jack?’
‘Hello?’ There he was.
‘What was that?’ I asked.
‘Sorry, I’m running out. Of money. I don’t have long left. I should go really, anyway, it’s late.’
I sighed. I didn’t care how late it was, I could have talked all night.
‘You have to move out of that place – or at least get a mobile . . .’I felt bad as soon as I’d said it, I didn’t realise I’d sound like such a nag.
‘I wish I could but, honestly, it’s not possible. The digs sort of come with the apprenticeship so I don’t exactly get to choose, and the free rent is instead of getting paid, so I have no . . .’ There was another blank silence for a second. ‘ . . . seriously, not one single penny. Anyway, I’m going to let you go to sleep. The sooner you do, the sooner it’ll be tomorrow. Come and see me as soon as you’re up. Early as you like.’
‘OK.’ I smiled broadly at the thought. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
Chapter 17
Bright sunshine streamed through my window as I woke up in the morning. I’d forgotten to close my curtains and a big angular patch of light was thrown across the floor and the bottom half of my bed. It was warm, even hot to the touch. Something dawned on me.
I remembered the porch light last night. It was the light that had brought me back!
What I didn’t understand was how. There were lights around all the time – especially in the theatre. I needed to think this through because, if I could figure out how this worked, I might finally be able to take control.
The first time Olivia got me, it was the bright sunshine outside the theatre that brought me back – it wasn’t leaving the theatre that had done it. I’d been standing in the cool of the darkened foyer, and when I stepped outside, the sunshine was too bright. It was the same the second time, when the bedside lamp had brought me back. I’d been in the dark bedroom for what seemed like ages and my eyes had got used to the dark. It was that flinch of light rushing into open pupils. That was what was shocking Olivia out of me. Last night had proved it – after walking through the fields, the flash of that security light was what got rid of her. There was a pattern.
One more practice left before opening night and I finally had a plan!
I got up and rushed through a shower so I could get straight to the theatre. It struck me how strange it was that I was so drawn to go back there, when Olivia was there, waiting. She’d made me turn away my friends and family and she’d left me broken. The whole theatre was full of bad memories and sick feelings and anger. But Jack was there too, and it was like I had an actual, physical ache to be near him.
I closed my eyes and painted his face in my mind. He was so soft and so strong all at once, with his messy dark hair, big, intense eyes and his broad jaw. His wide mouth and full lips with a cupid’s bow . . . I suddenly realised maybe I didn’t need to be in such a rush – I could take a bit of time over my hair and try to get it straight, maybe put some make-up on and find something nice to wear . . .
But Jack wasn’t in the auditorium when I got to the theatre. I looked backstage, even in the props room where I’d seen Olivia that time – and I really didn’t want to go in there – but there was no sign of him. I even tried to go up to the lighting box, but it was locked. I almost gave up. I felt pretty stupid for putting all that effort into getting ready. I looked down at myself and suddenly felt embarrassingly overdressed.
It wasn’t until I went up on stage that I found him. He didn’t see me. He was in the wings on the opposite side, just standing over a control desk, staring. There was a notepad and pen beside him but he wasn’t writing anything down. I felt an electric rush, just to see him standing there.
‘Jack, what are you doing?’ He almost literally jumped and I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Sorry! Did I scare you?’
‘Yep.’ He nodded, turned to face me and smiled. ‘It’s so good to see you’re OK. Wow, you look . . . really, really good.’
I felt the blush heat my face. ‘Thanks,’ I smiled.
He walked towards me and I imagined him coming right up to me and reaching out to wrap me in his arms. I desperately wanted him to, with my whole being. But, of course, he stopped in his tracks before he’d got within reach. I reeled inside from not understanding. Did he think it would be ungentlemanly to touch me or something? He was so open on the phone and said such lovely things . . . I wondered if I should just make the first move – I didn’t know how long it would be before I couldn’t stop myself – but something always did stop me.
My chest felt so heavy I thought I might drop through the floor. It felt as if he didn’t want me. How was I ever going to find out what was going on in his head?
I tried to claw back some of the excitement I’d felt about my plan. I clapped my hands together to try to snap myself out of it and I had to focus hard, but it sort of worked.
‘Listen,’ I rushed, ‘I have to tell you about my plan. I’ve got an idea for today’s rehearsal and I need your help.’
Jack nodded eagerly.
‘Whenever Olivia takes me over, I always come back the same way – bright light. The first time, it was coming out of the theatre into bright sunshine, then it was turning on my bedside lamp . . . Last night it was the automatic light in the porch when my dad came home.’ My excitement was coming back now. ‘All we have to do is wait until she gets me this time, and then you can turn on whichever light is pointing in her direction – and it’ll push her out again!’
I guess I was all wrapped up in thinking about me, because I was sort of expecting Jack to be as excited as I was. But he didn’t look happy that we’d found the answer to getting rid of Olivia, he just looked worried. He turned and sat down on the front of the stage. I perched next to him, waiting for him to explain what was so wrong.
‘I don’t get it . . . If light brings you back, why haven’t the stage lights brought you back before?’
‘It has to be a shock – you know, when it’s a sudden flash of light and your eyes squint. The lighting in our play isn’t like The Wizard of Oz. There aren’t any effects. Every scene is in a room in the house, so the lighting is quite low really, and it’s constant. And there are no monologues so even the spotlight’s soft, and on all the way through. Your eyes don’t get a chance to get used to the dark . . .’ I realised as I was saying it what Jack’s next objection would be.
‘So how are we going to make it work then, if there are lights on all the way through?’
‘In act four,’ I explained. ‘When Tristan and Diana think Rebecca’s dead. They take her down to the cellar and cover the body. We’ll have to wait until then. When the scene ends and Olivia comes out from under the throw, she’ll be more sensitive to the lights. If you can get a second spot ready, as bright as you can get it, and flash it on, as if it was just a mistake . . .’
‘I don’t know, Zoë, it might not work unless she’s looking directly at the lens when it comes on. That’s if I can get my hands on the controls – I told you what Roger’s like? He’s a perfectionist, I can’t even put my hands on the desk . . . I can’t bear the thought of you letting her take you over again when you’re relying on me to stop her. What if I can’t do it?’
It hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t be able to get to the controls. This Roger guy sounded like an absolute arse. And Jack had a point, I hadn’t thought once that my plan might not work, but it was probably down to chance whether Olivia fell into the trap.
‘I’m sorry, Jack, I hadn’t thought about what I was a
sking you to do. If you think you’d get into trouble, we’ll have to think of something else.’
‘I’m not worried about that – honestly, you’re more important than a job. I’m just terrified I won’t be able to step in at the right moment – you’ll be stuck with her . . .’
I loved that he was worried about me, but I didn’t understand why he thought it would be so difficult.
‘Don’t worry so much. Listen, I’ve dealt with being stuck with her before and she hasn’t killed me yet, just cuts and bruises.’ I smiled. ‘Once we get to the performance, I wouldn’t want to be passing out on stage in the middle of a scene anyway – I’d rather let Olivia finish the play than have that happen and ruin it for everyone, but I need to see if this works. Just do your best, please? If it doesn’t work, just sneak a torch from the caretaker’s cupboard and follow me round with it till you get a chance to flash it in my eyes!’ Joking didn’t seem to calm his nerves.
‘Of course I’ll do everything I can – I just don’t trust myself with the responsibility.’
‘I trust you,’ I said, putting a hand out to touch his, to comfort him. He pulled away like lightning and I swear it was like someone had stabbed me. It was so hurtful, such a blatant rejection, that I felt tears welling up and had to swallow hard and clench my jaw to keep from crying. What the hell was the matter with him? I couldn’t keep quiet about it any more.
‘Why do you always pull away . . .?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jack said before I could finish my sentence. When I looked at him he seemed genuinely as upset as I was. His voice was just a cracked whisper. ‘I’m really so sorry, I didn’t mean to.’
Something suddenly occurred to me. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ I asked, not wanting to know the answer.
The Last Act Page 11