by S. B. Hayes
‘What’ve you done?’ Nat asked bluntly.
I breathed in deeply. ‘Mmm … something a bit out of character.’
Hannah reached over and covered Nat’s ears. ‘She shouldn’t listen to this – she’s wanted to be a nun since she was seven.’
Nat blew a raspberry. ‘I have not.’
‘You saw The Sound of Music stage show and started to wear a veil and call yourself Sister Natalie.’
Nat threw her shoe at Hannah, missing by miles. ‘Shut up and let Katy get on with it.’
I’d started to giggle and it was ages before I could speak. ‘Well … it’s like this … Merlin has asked me to go camping with him … just for one night … and I’ve agreed.’
Hannah’s hands flew up to her face. ‘Oh wow, that’s awesome.’
‘It’s soon,’ Nat commented in a completely different tone.
‘I know it’s soon,’ I answered defensively. ‘I mean, we haven’t been together long, but it feels like I’ve known Merlin forever and he admitted he wanted to be with me the first time he saw me but he was slow getting started …’
‘He did take his time,’ Hannah agreed.
‘But he’s making up for it now.’ I blushed.
‘Katy’s in luuurve,’ Nat gently mocked.
Hannah sat up on her knees, her face glowing. ‘Are you?’
I held out my hands. ‘Think so … but it’s never happened before so I’m not sure.’
She peered at me inquisitively. ‘Symptoms?’
‘Well … I’ve got permanent butterflies … palpitations, insomnia, weird dreams, fever, inability to think … it feels as if I’m ill.’
Being in love is an illness,’ Hannah answered knowledgeably. ‘I read somewhere that a scientist analysed all the physical symptoms and it was the same as being temporarily insane.’
‘That’s helpful.’ I grinned.
Nat turned her mathematical brain to the problem. ‘Statistically the chance of meeting your soulmate is 720,000,000 to one against.’
‘That’s so unfair,’ Hannah cried. ‘How can you improve the odds?’
‘You can’t. It’s completely random.’
‘This makes it all the more amazing,’ I said dreamily. ‘Merlin and I being in the right place and the right time to meet like this. It was meant to be.’
‘You must be sure about how he feels,’ Nat commented.
‘Of course,’ I answered quickly, but then had to backtrack slightly. ‘Well, almost sure. Merlin is amazing, but sometimes … it’s like I’m fighting for his full attention because he can be so … deep and … preoccupied.’
‘Sure he’s not just playing hard to get?’ Nat joked. She stirred a smoothie with a straw and made a loud sucking noise as she drank. ‘We want all the gory details.’
I looked from one face to the other. ‘Well … it’s like a railway station in Merlin’s house with all those artists milling about, and we want to be alone … that’s all.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Yes, just a chance to watch the sun going down and wake up in each other’s arms.’
Nat began to play on an imaginary violin while Hannah tickled my neck. ‘Are you really that stupid? To wake up together you have to sleep together first.’
‘It’s a tent … we’ll be in sleeping bags.’
She gripped my shoulders and spoke to me in an exaggeratedly slow voice as if I was a child or really stupid. ‘You do know what you’ve agreed to, Katy? It won’t be like camping with the Girl Guides. He’ll have other ideas.’
Nat rolled over and kicked her legs in the air, convulsed with laughter. Soon I joined her, feeling all the tension of the past few weeks draining away from me. The banter continued for another hour or so, interspersed with marshmallows dipped in chocolate spread. We talked about every boy we’d ever dated, and exactly what we’d done – which didn’t take long in my case: a few gross kisses with lots of saliva.
‘There’s something else I have to confess,’ I began, chocolate smeared across my chin. ‘I can’t do this alone, I need an alibi. Maybe I could say I was staying here?’
Hannah looked slightly crestfallen. ‘Mum and Dad are cool, but they hate me lying to them. If they found out …’
‘It’s only one night, so they won’t find out. I’ve already set the scene at home and said your parents are going away and you don’t want to be alone.’
‘What if your mum meets them by chance?’
‘No chance of that. She hardly goes out, and she’d ring my mobile if she wanted to speak to me.’
‘Merlin isn’t pressuring you, Katy?’ Nat asked, sounding a note of caution.
‘No, he’s not like that.’
‘You might not even realize he’s doing it.’
I smiled with contentment and didn’t care how nauseating I looked. ‘No, this feels just right somehow.’
Nat opened Hannah’s laptop. ‘Let’s put it on Facebook then. Katy’s in luurve and she’s ready to …’
She stopped and stared at the screen. With each second that passed her face slowly blanched. She opened her mouth, but no words came out and her bottom lip began to judder. I’d never seen Nat like this and it was awful to watch, like witnessing a car crash in slow motion and being unable to help. She momentarily raised her eyes and they rested on me. I didn’t have a clue why, but there was something in her gaze that made me feel immediately guilty. I looked to Hannah for an explanation, but she just shook her head in bewilderment. Nat eventually gave a strangled sob and fled from the room with Hannah in pursuit. I heard the bathroom door lock and the handle rattle several times as Hannah tried to talk to her through the door. I was left sitting alone on the bed, totally confused.
It felt like prying, but curiosity got the better of me and I turned the laptop round to see what she’d accessed. As I began to read I physically shrank into myself. On Nat’s Facebook page was humiliation on a scale never before seen. There were numerous comments posted from people at college about Nat being in love with Adam, but worst were the love spells. It looked as if everyone had got together and written their own – some just cringe-making, some completely brutal. No, this was beyond humiliation, and of course it would spread – no wonder Nat was so upset. I distractedly munched my way through the rest of the popcorn, trying to imagine how I’d feel if this was me and unable to come up with anything to console her.
A wan figure with pink swollen eyes eventually emerged from the bathroom. She walked towards me, stopped, and said just four words: ‘Who did you tell?’
I hadn’t seen this coming at all. ‘No one,’ I cried. ‘Of course I didn’t. It definitely wasn’t me. I wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘Only you and I knew about the love spell, Katy. You suggested it at the craft fair.’
I put one hand on my heart. ‘I haven’t mentioned it to another soul, I swear, and I didn’t call it a love spell … you did. I just don’t understand. Adam isn’t even in our college, and not that many people know him.’
Both of them now looked at me and a shadow seemed to pass between us. I knew straight away what this meant – they doubted me.
Nat attempted a watery smile. ‘If you swear you didn’t say anything, then I believe you.’
Even now she refused to get angry and was trying to trust me. It was just like Nat to be so forgiving, and that made it so much worse. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I felt completely guilty. After this the atmosphere was ruined and I had to get away. I gave Nat a hug and made my way home. It was only 8 p.m. and I texted Luke as I walked, hoping to offload some of my angst on to him.
He texted me straight back. Operation Genevieve – might have something to interest you X
‘You look like one of those cartoon characters with a rain cloud over their head,’ he joked, noticing my glum expression as soon as he opened the door.
I trudged upstairs after him, my whole body drooping and my feet leaden. I sprawled across his bed and told him what had happened.
/> ‘I’m sure Genevieve is involved,’ I complained, ‘but I’ve no proof. Targeting me is one thing, but hurting Nat just tears me to pieces. At this rate I won’t have any friends left.’
Luke nodded understandingly. ‘I know … which is why you have to fight back.’ He took a piece of paper from his bag and handed it to me. ‘Don’t get too excited. It might be something, or it might turn out to be nothing …’
My eyes quickly scanned the page. It was a copy of a newspaper article about a fire that had killed a married couple. I gave a tired sigh.
‘Look at the date it happened,’ he urged. ‘Christmas Eve, 2001. You said Genevieve’s parents died on Christmas Eve when she was seven, so … do the math,’ he twanged.
‘But she told people her parents died in a car accident,’ I pointed out. ‘And what about the name? These people are called Jane and Paul Morton, Genevieve’s surname is Paradis.’
Luke blew out several times and joined his hands together in an arch, resting his chin on his fingertips. ‘I checked and cross-checked all the fatal accidents and incidents over a two-year period across the entire country. This is the only one on a Christmas Eve where an only child, a daughter, was left orphaned.’
‘What was the daughter’s name?’
‘Grace.’
I jumped off the bed and clutched my head, trying to think straight. ‘That would mean Genevieve had changed her name. And lied about the crash.’
‘Anything’s possible.’
‘Then … she could have lied about the date as well.’
‘Of course,’ Luke acknowledged, ‘but in my experience, when people lie there’s usually a grain of truth … and that date is so specific.’
I moved to the whiteboard, hoping for inspiration. ‘She is a complete mystery because she has no past. She could pretend to be anyone and tell people any story about her life.’
Luke’s eyebrows did something alarming and almost reached his hairline. ‘But … is it worth checking out?’
I nodded eagerly. ‘No one who’s ever met Genevieve would forget her easily.’
‘The fire was in a small country village, outside York, called … hang on … Lower Croxton. We’ll drive over there tomorrow and talk to the locals. Do a bit of digging around.’
I winced slightly. ‘Tomorrow I’m supposed to be seeing Merlin … but … he wouldn’t mind this once. I’ll think up an excuse.’
Luke seemed surprised. ‘You’ll not tell him the truth?’
No … it’s just a small fib, and this is so important. I’ll phone him later. When it’s all over he’ll understand.’
‘We can set off early,’ Luke suggested.
I closed my eyes in excitement. ‘Shall we go undercover?’
‘You can wear the fake beard and glasses, Kat, and I’ll … just go as I am.’
I began hitting him with one of his pillows and didn’t stop until he promised to stop taking the mickey out of me.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
The thrill of being able to retaliate at last somehow cushioned the awful memory of Nat’s hurt face looking at me in accusation. I barely slept and woke up before seven, tense and hyper as if I’d downed a double espresso before breakfast. I threw open my wardrobe and surveyed the contents. The weather had turned cooler, which meant I needed something warm, and we were heading for the sticks, so I needed practical shoes in case we had to trek across fields or dodge a herd of cows or do whatever people did in the countryside. I settled on combats and a waterproof jacket that Mum had bought for my geography field trip, along with sensible boots I normally wouldn’t be seen dead in. It might be an advantage to look older, so I slapped on some make-up and tried sweeping my hair up, attempting sophistication, but it made me look even more of a schoolgirl so I left it down. I couldn’t face breakfast but filled a small bag with crisps, biscuits, chocolate and bottled water.
Luke looked decidedly dishevelled in old jeans and a thick sweater, sporting just-rolled-out-of-bed hair and stubble. I couldn’t help feeling how nice it was to be heading somewhere different. Our town seemed so much more claustrophobic now that Genevieve was everywhere.
‘Doesn’t Laura mind you giving up your day like this?’
He gave a lopsided smile. ‘Laura likes to hit the shops on a Saturday. You’ve actually saved me from a fate worse than death.’
I was relieved. I had been worried in case our trip was a source of friction between them.
‘What about Merlin?’
‘I told him Mum wasn’t well … it’s only a tiny lie. I want to see him of course, but this is too important to put off.’
‘Doesn’t he think this thing with Genevieve is weird?’
‘Can’t really explain it to him,’ I admitted. ‘His mum thinks she’s great and talented and she just fools everyone.’
‘Poor Kat. She’s got everyone caught in her web, hasn’t she?’
‘Kind of.’ I turned my face towards the window and watched the landscape fly by, wondering when life had got so complicated.
‘Ever been to Yorkshire?’ he asked with a yawn.
I shook my head.
‘We spent a few holidays here when I was a kid,’ Luke began. ‘It has loads of atmosphere – windswept moors, rolling hills and fells, potholes, forests, waterfalls, valleys, not to mention all the historic spooky buildings. In fact, York is the most haunted city in Britain.’
‘You sound like an advert for the tourist board.’ I laughed.
He gave me a sly wink. ‘I didn’t mention all the famous witches who lived there.’
‘I’m off witches now … remember?’
Luke seemed to liven up as we hit the motorway and spent the next two hours telling me funny stories about his job and his boss. For the first time in weeks I felt myself again. It was almost as if Genevieve’s hold on me relaxed the further we travelled.
‘Phew … we’re definitely in the country now.’ I hastily closed my window as the smell of manure wafted in.
Luke consulted his satnav. ‘Almost there. Only five more miles to go.’
He pulled over into a lay-by to let a tractor go the other way as the road had become single-lane traffic only. As far as the eye could see there were patchwork fields planted with row after row of cabbages and bright yellow rapeseed. The wind cut through the open landscape, shaking the newly bare trees and stirring up the fallen leaves. I could feel its force even though we were safely protected in the car.
‘This is it,’ Luke announced, and pulled over on to a grass verge.
The village was no more than fifty or so properties dotted around a green. Most of the buildings looked like former workers’ cottages, with small paned windows and low door frames. A few new-build houses contrasted harshly with the old worn bricks and slate roofs. A farmhouse sat proudly on a hill with several barns around. It took me a moment to work out what was odd about Lower Croxton – the silence. I’d imagined jolly farmers riding tractors, sun-kissed children dashing through the corn and women in bonnets carrying baskets of newly laid eggs and warm milk, but there wasn’t a person in sight.
‘Everyone must be inside,’ Luke said.
‘We’ll never be inconspicuous here,’ I complained, noticing the twitching of a net curtain. ‘This isn’t the kind of place where anyone simply passes through.’
Luke stretched as he got out of the car and looked around. ‘We should find the local inn or pub – anywhere the locals hang out.’
I pulled a face at the word ‘locals’, and Luke pulled my hood over my eyes. ‘It isn’t the Village of the Damned, Kat.’
I frowned. ‘Doesn’t seem to be a pub around.’
Luke pointed straight ahead. ‘What about that building? There’s a notice outside.’
‘It used to be the dairy,’ I said without thinking, and he stared at me in amazement.
‘You know that for certain?’
‘No.’ I laughed in embarrassment, not wanting to explain the déjà-vu feeling. ‘I mean, it loo
ks like it was once a dairy.’
We walked towards the sign which advertised fresh farm produce, and Luke took my arm in a strangely old-fashioned way.
‘I’m too young to act like an old married woman,’ I complained.
He stopped and gave me an appraising glance. ‘When I went away to uni you were still a brat with braces on your goofy teeth.’
‘You visited plenty of times in three years, Luke,’ I said. ‘You were just too busy enjoying yourself to notice me.’
‘I’m noticing you now,’ he said, and for some reason my stomach felt peculiar. ‘And you’re still a brat, Kat.’
I managed to kick the back of his calf as we walked. He chased me to the green and wrestled me to the ground with a rugby tackle while I screamed at him to get off, wondering what the villagers would make of us.
‘We’ll start with the farmer’s wife,’ Luke said, brushing grass from his jeans. ‘She’ll be fifteen stone with ruddy cheeks and arms like a wrestler. She’s bound to have lived here for fifty years and know every birth and death for miles around. Her daughters will look like milkmaids and her sons will wear dungarees and chew pieces of straw.’
I didn’t even smile because panic began to rise. ‘We can’t just blunder in there. We have to work out a story first.’ Luke completely ignored me and kept on walking. ‘Luke? We have to get our stories straight …
He waved one hand dismissively. ‘Just leave it to me. I’m a journalist. This is what we do best.’
The girl sitting on a high stool had raven hair, a white face, purple lips and kohled eyes. The leather miniskirt, fishnet tights and Doc Martens didn’t quite go with the milkmaid image, nor did the piercings in her nose, eyebrow or cheek. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud as Luke’s jaw dropped. She didn’t seem remotely interested in why we were here or make comments about ‘strangers’ and ‘not being from these parts’. She looked us up and down with a sulky expression, then went back to reading a book. Luke was dumbstruck, despite my attempts to elbow him in the ribs. I noticed a small round table and two chairs in one corner.