‘Thank God you’re awake! You have to untie me!’
Melodie stared back at her, apparently dumbstruck.
‘Am I dreaming?’ she said in a thin, croaky voice.
‘No, you’re not sodding dreaming!’ said Tara savagely. ‘Now get over here and help me!’ She held up her bound hands, suddenly enraged at Melodie for putting her into this situation in the first place. Some part of her felt it couldn’t really be happening. Had she really been whacked over the head and tied up? Did that actually happen in real life? Well, it did, but not to people like Tara, surely?
Melodie swung her legs round slowly and got to her feet, looking about as stable on them as a newborn foal. She wobbled over to Tara, who held her hands higher. Melodie pulled and prodded uselessly at the ties around Tara’s wrists.
‘I can’t,’ she said, frowning as though trying to work out a complex problem. ‘I don’t really understand . . .’
‘Well, you have to try,’ snapped Tara, breathing heavily. ‘There must be something we can use. Have you got scissors or a knife or anything?’
Melodie’s eyes widened at the word ‘knife’. She put her hand over her other upper arm as though it was a reflex. It was only then that Tara realised her arm was bandaged. Melodie’s hoodie hung over it, the sleeve dangling uselessly. She couldn’t make sense of what had happened here. Was Melodie a victim? Or was she part of the plan? There wasn’t time to work any of it out. She had to get out of here.
‘Look . . .’ She tried to speak slowly and calmly. ‘You have to help me. Do you understand?’
Melodie shook her head like a child. ‘No, I don’t. I don’t understand. Why are you here?’
Tara could feel every last drop of patience ebbing away.
‘I’ll tell you why I’m here,’ she said. ‘Faith hit me. She hit me over the head with a wine bottle. You want to know why?’ Her voice got louder. ‘Yeah? I’ll tell you, shall I? Because I found out the mad bitch ran over Will in her van. And I know all about the stupid kidnap scheme.’
Melodie stared at Tara. Her mouth was actually hanging open. She backed towards the cot bed and sat down, as though her legs wouldn’t support her any longer.
‘Will?’ she said breathlessly. ‘My Will? How do you even know him? And what do you mean about a van?’
Tara spat out her reply. ‘Like I told you, she . . .’ she pointed at the stairs, ‘ran him over and put him in a coma. And I found out about all of it. So now I’m here too. Which is totally unfair!’
She struggled against the ties again with a wretched sob, but it was only then that she saw the effect her words had had on Melodie, and remembered that Will was Melodie’s boyfriend. Melodie was gripping fistfuls of hair in a way that looked painful. Tears streamed down her cheeks and made shiny trails.
‘Are you lying?’ she squeaked. ‘About Will? Why would you say that to me?’
Tara felt herself soften, guilt creeping in a little at how she’d delivered this news. ‘Because he knew something had happened to you,’ she said more gently. ‘He was worried. He didn’t believe you’d moved away with your dad.’
Melodie began to shake. ‘I couldn’t tell him!’ she wailed. ‘I wanted to! But I knew he wouldn’t like it. And it was all going to be okay afterwards . . . We could pick up again and carry on.’ She made a gulping sound. ‘He’s going to be all right though, isn’t he?’ Her face seemed to collapse in on itself, her small features distorted by grief.
‘Probably,’ said Tara, looking away. She had no idea. She obviously hadn’t been very convincing either. For several minutes Melodie sobbed in a quiet, defeated way. She didn’t seem like the same person who flicked her hair and made nasty comments and generally swanned around like a queen bee. This Melodie had a gaunt face, greasy hair and shaking hands. She blinked constantly, like a creature that was used to living in the dark.
Tara stared down at the binding on her wrists, trying to think about how she could free herself. It was the sort of binding Mum and Dad used in the garden. It was strong. And every time she tried to wrestle it loose, it just bit further into her skin. Melodie was right too – there was nothing she could see down here that could be used to cut the ties.
Panic began to mount as Tara tried to assess her options. Maybe Beck would make an unplanned visit home and be worried? He’d ring Mum and Dad, who’d come back from their weekend away and call the police . . .
But Tara knew this wasn’t going to happen really. Beck wouldn’t know she wasn’t at home until Sunday night when her parents returned. And if that mad woman upstairs was responding to Tara’s texts, Mum and Dad would have no reason to worry.
Maybe Leo would realise something was wrong? But he had too much going on. His worries about his sister would be filling his thoughts, not Tara.
A sudden thought made her suck in her breath. Sammie . . . The poor dog was still tied up out there. Maybe he would howl and alert help? But even as she pictured it, Tara knew this was a pointless wish. The dog’s collar wasn’t that tight but even if he managed to get free, there was no reason why anyone would know Tara was here. The disloyal animal would go with whoever offered him food.
Her spirits were dropping further by the second. No one would know she was gone for two whole days. A lot could happen in that time. Faith seemed capable of anything. She looked over at Melodie, who lay across from her, silent apart from the odd hiccupping sob.
Tara felt another surge of anger towards her.
‘Hey,’ she said harshly.
Melodie slowly rolled round and sat up, drawing her knees to her chest.
‘That hurt?’ said Tara nodding at her bandaged arm.
Melodie looked down at herself. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she said in a flat tone.
‘As we’re stuck here, you might as well help me understand what you were trying to do,’ said Tara. ‘It seems like we have time to kill.’ Even as she said it, she winced inside at the word kill. ‘So if you agreed to this,’ she continued, ‘how come they cut you?’
Melodie’s lips trembled and she did a wet sniff, drawing her hand across her face. She would never have done anything like that before. It was as though the shell of the shiny, hard girl had been cracked open and Tara was seeing her raw insides.
‘I didn’t want them to do it . . .’ said Melodie in a tiny voice, ‘but Adam was threatening to go to the police. I don’t even care about the money. Well, I do . . .’ she said, a bit more firmly. ‘I get an allowance from him but it’s not that much really. He should definitely pay more.’
The little bit of sympathy Tara had been feeling drained away.
‘So it’s all about money,’ she said disgustedly. ‘You could all end up in prison for this, do you understand that? You actually let them cut you? Are you insane?’
Melodie looked away from Tara’s harsh gaze. ‘It had to seem realistic for the photo we sent him,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t like being in here at first. I was scared . . . but I got used to that. And I drank loads of vodka before they . . . did it. I changed my mind when the time came but Faith persuaded me it had to be done . . . and Ross sort of held me down.’ She sniffed again and drew herself up straighter. ‘It was strictly a one-off anyway.’
‘Oh you think?’ said Tara sarcastically. ‘Then why have they told your dad they’ll do it again on Friday, which is today, FYI?’
Melodie’s large eyes widened. ‘You’re lying,’ she whispered.
‘Okay, let’s see then.’
Tara almost enjoyed saying this, even though it was cruel.
Then something occurred to her. Something so terrible that her guts corkscrewed inside her.
Maybe they wouldn’t cut Melodie again. Maybe they would cut Tara instead . . .
If you couldn’t see her face, one white girl’s skin was going to look much like another’s.
A barely perceptible moan escaped her lips and she dropped her head to her knees, curling into a ball like a small child who thinks they can’t be seen that way. No
thing so far – not seeing the van, nor Faith coming at her with the bottle, nor waking up in that garage – none of it had scared her more than this. Waves of terror rolled over her and she began to shake so hard that her feet tapped against the cold stone floor uncontrollably.
Melodie didn’t seem to notice her distress. Either that or she didn’t care.
‘I still don’t understand what the hell any of this has to do with you,’ Melodie said. There was a pause. ‘What possible connection do you have with my family?’ A beat passed. ‘Oh I get it,’ she said in a harder voice. ‘Are you after Leo or something?’ She laughed a mean, short laugh. The old her had been lurking there all along, it seemed. ‘Well, I’d forget about that. He’s out of your league, love.’
Tara didn’t bother to answer. She was beyond being hurt by this. Melodie knew nothing about the kisses in the rain, or the way she’d felt when Leo wrapped his arms round her, enveloping her in his warm boy smell with its hint of chlorine. No one could take any of that away from her. But these precious memories weren’t much use to her now.
She heard the sharp scratch of a match. Smoke wafted towards her in sickly curls.
‘Do you have to smoke?’ Tara said, her head snapping up. ‘It’s horrible in here and that just makes it worse.’ Something occurred to her then. ‘And where are we, anyway? What is this place?’
Melodie blew smoke out the side of her mouth in exactly the same way that Faith had done it. What did Leo say before? Faith had more or less brought Melodie up. Tara suddenly wondered what it was like to have been looked after by that horror upstairs. Maybe it partly explained why Melodie was being such a bitch even now.
‘The Bomb House.’
‘What?’ Tara thought she must have misheard.
Melodie sighed as though Tara was being particularly thick.
‘That’s what me and Leo called it when we were little. It’s a whatchamacallit, bomb shelter from the Second World War. Faith’s always wanted to turn it into a studio for her music, but we’ve never had the money.’
‘Where is it?’ said Tara sharply.
‘Bottom of the garden.’
‘I never saw anything there from across the river . . .’
Melodie made an irritated sound and sucked on her cigarette. ‘Well, it’s hidden by the weeping willow, isn’t it? You can’t see it from across the way.’
Melodie seemed quite recovered now as she sucked away on her fag. As though this entire crazy scene was normal. That was a scary thought. She needed Melodie on side.
‘We have to get out of here, Melodie, do you understand that?’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Melodie, gesturing with her cigarette. ‘And I’m sure Faith will let you go once Adam pays up.’
Tara gaped at the other girl. Did she really think Faith would just open the door and say, ‘Bye bye, Tara, you can go home now’ ?
She was at least half as barking mad as her aunt.
Tara closed her eyes. She felt so weak . . . and her head hurt so much.
She must have drifted a little because when Melodie spoke again, she experienced a swooping sensation, like she’d been falling and only just managed to hang on to a ledge.
‘Wha . . . what?’ she said croakily.
Melodie was staring right at her, her arms around her knees. She’d put on a pair of fluffy Ugg-like slippers now and the duvet was around her shoulders. Tara realised how cold she was and tried to pull the duvet under her in the same way.
‘I said,’ Melodie repeated, ‘you don’t know what it’s like.’
‘What what’s like?’
‘Not being wanted.’ Melodie fiercely swiped the heel of her hand over her eyes. ‘Have you got any idea what it’s like seeing pictures of my dad with his shiny new family on the internet? There they are skiing . . . and, and, hanging out at theme parks in designer clothes.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘He dumped my mum and then he dumped me because I remind him of her too much. Do you know what that feels like, Tara Murray?’
Tara’s mind filled with images of her family. Dad peering at her over his reading glasses and then breaking into a twinkly grin. That time when she was little and convinced a monster lived under her bed and he’d pretended to do magic to make it go away. Then she thought of their Cornish holiday a couple of years ago. They’d all tried surfing and the one person who could do it, who was a total natural, was Mum. For weeks afterwards she’d break into a daft old surfing song and pretend to do it wherever they were, even if that was the middle of Tesco’s. And Beck . . . She remembered him chasing her with the hosepipe in the old garden and his raucous, ruthless laughter at her shrieks. All these images had the rosy slow-motion quality of an old movie, of moments gone for ever.
An ache of longing for her family squeezed her heart.
No, she didn’t have any idea what it must feel like for Melodie. She didn’t know what to say.
Silence fell for some time before Melodie spoke again, less aggressively now.
‘I still don’t get it,’ she said. ‘How did you find out? Because Leo doesn’t know anything about this. I can’t work out how you knew I was here.’
Tara stared down at the stone floor. Should she tell her? She tried to work out what she had to lose. Everyone at school already knew. Leo knew. And she was currently being held captive by a pint-sized psycho. Preventing Melodie from knowing her secret didn’t seem like much of a priority right now. She inhaled slowly.
‘I found your earring at school,’ she said at last in a low voice. This was an edited version of events. But Melodie didn’t need to know about Tara looking in her locker. ‘And I have this thing . . .’
‘Thing?’
‘Yes, thing!’ sighed Tara. ‘I see when stuff – and people – are lost or missing. And I saw you. In here.’ She forced herself to meet Melodie’s frowning gaze. ‘I knew something was happening to you all along,’ she continued. ‘I knew you’d never gone to Brighton.’
A long silence stretched between the two girls. And then Melodie gave a huge, shuddering sigh.
‘I don’t even know what you’re on about!’ she said. ‘I think you’re a total freak!’
Incredibly, laughter bubbled up from somewhere inside Tara. It began to come in waves and then she found she couldn’t stop. Hysteria rocked her so hard she thought she might laugh herself sick. Her stomach muscles ached and tears trailed down her dusty cheeks. ‘You think I’m a freak?’ she gasped when she regained the power of speech. ‘Well, join the queue, Melodie Stone!’
Wiping her face and still giving little spurts of laughter, she only realised the door at the top of the stairs had opened when she saw Melodie staring upwards. Faith stood motionless there, her face with that creepy blank look again.
‘What’s happening?’ said Melodie.
Faith didn’t answer. She came down the stairs quickly, bare feet slapping against the stone. Her hand was behind her back and Tara couldn’t see what she was holding. Her eyes didn’t leave Melodie’s face.
Melodie gasped and then began to cry softly.
‘What’s going on?’ said Tara sharply but they both ignored her. Melodie slowly shook her head from side to side. Faith sat on the side of the bed next to her.
‘No, no, no!’ moaned Melodie quietly but she slumped into Faith’s now open arms.
‘Shh, shh,’ crooned Faith, stroking Melodie’s hair, rocking slowly with her. Tara’s brain couldn’t seem to make the necessary connections. What was happening?
Faith put her hands on either side of Melodie’s face and looked into her eyes, still gently shushing her. Melodie cried unselfconsciously, a film of saliva stretching across her mouth that made Tara want to look away, but she couldn’t move her eyes.
‘I think he’s really close to coming through for us, babes, okay?’ said Faith in a low tone. ‘And that’s great! But we have to make him hurry up. Leo keeps ringing me. Ross is going on and on about us getting caught. We have to bring this to a close, yeah? D’you understand Mell-bel
ls?’
‘But it hurts . . .’ wailed Melodie, her voice thin and high.
That was when Tara saw the glint of the sharp kitchen knife in Faith’s hand.
And with a sickening rush she understood.
CHAPTER 17
CUT
You have until Friday . . .
‘No!’ Tara shouted, startling Faith and Melodie, who turned to her as one. ‘You can’t!’ Tara tried to shuffle across the floor uselessly.
‘Do it to her instead!’ Melodie yelled.
Tara stopped dead, frozen to the spot with icy shock.
‘But I was trying to help you . . .’ she whispered. ‘How could you?’
‘Fay? Where are you, babes?’ The deep voice barked into the space from the top of the stairs. Ross appeared. He peered into the gloom, frowning.
‘Fay?’ He sounded shaken, not at all cocky now. ‘I’m going nuts up here! We have to talk! What are you doing?’
‘I’m busy,’ said Faith, her voice a hiss of pure disgust. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No!’ Ross clattered down the staircase. He seemed to fill the small space with his male bulk. His eyes flicked to Tara and his features spasmed with something like pain. He lifted his hands to his face, making a rubbing motion outwards, like they were a pair of windscreen wipers.
‘What do you want?’ snapped Faith and she slowly lowered the hand holding the knife.
‘It was on the radio,’ he said in a shaking voice. ‘That boy, Will, he . . .’ Ross started to cry in ugly, gulping sobs. ‘He’s dead, Fay . . . He’s bloody dead!’
Melodie made a sound like she’d been punctured. A thin high wail came from her mouth, which was stretched wide open. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked, head on her knees. Tara barely dared to breathe.
Faith got up, her face grimly set.
A torrent of words spewed from Ross. ‘Don’t you understand? This has got ten times worse. That’s murder! You murdered that boy! I told you this had to stop, but you wouldn’t listen, would you?’ He gave a half-hysterical laugh. ‘Oh no, Faith knows best. Faith says everything will “work out, baby, you’ll see”.’ The false approximation of Faith’s voice was uncannily accurate.
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