by Mary Hooper
I waited to see if that would do the trick, watched as a nerve in his cheek twitched. After a moment he gave a small smile, showing the Dracula tooth. ‘OK. You do that,’ he said, and I thought, God, you must think I’m really stupid. How do you think you can get away with this? You think I haven’t seen through what you’ve been doing?
We walked on, through the town and up to the dunes. Zed didn’t have a cool box or anything this time, just a plastic carrier, though I couldn’t see what was in it. Maybe he’d been thinking that we’d go straight back to his flat. Maybe he had the special drink there for me, and the camera loaded with film all ready …
The sky was still overcast. What if the sun didn’t come out again? What if he didn’t want to go swimming? I’d have to make it sound really enticing – suggest swimming in the nude, perhaps. Oh God, but I’d never be able to do that. The words would choke in my throat.
We found a spot in the dunes, even further off from the town than we’d been the week before. We sat down and Beaky got a small bird book out of her pocket, and a pen, and began scribbling some stuff in the back. I wondered if it was real things, about real birds, or just rubbish. I got the food out of the bag and gave Zed a packet of sandwiches, which he started eating. He was a messy eater, chomping with his mouth open in a revolting way, and I thought to myself how strange it was that once I’d owned up to the fact that he wasn’t all that appealing, I’d started to notice more and more unsavoury things about him. He not only ate with his mouth open, but – I suppose because of the cramped arrangement of his front teeth – spat tiny pieces of saliva as he chewed. He also had a crop of spots on his chin and had untidy eyebrows which met in the middle. How ever could I have thought him good looking? He was revolting.
As he put the second half of the sandwich in his mouth, his other hand crept onto my knee. I was wearing jeans and though the material was stiff and thick, I could still feel his hot fingers gripping me through the denim. I looked down at those fingers and couldn’t help shuddering as I visualised them touching me. Again I saw myself on my back with Zed kneeling over me, his fingers on my legs, stroking my flesh, lifting my knees, adjusting me, looking and admiring.
‘Oh!’ Before I knew it, I’d shivered in revulsion and given a sharp intake of breath. Beaky, who must have known what was happening, touched my shoulder. ‘You OK?’ she said.
Zed looked at me hard. ‘What’s the matter?’
I shook my head, trying to shake away the images.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Someone just … just walked over my grave.’
Section 14
Recording resumed at 7.15pm after a break
We ate our sandwiches – at least, the other two did. I managed half a Danish pastry and a mouthful of fruit juice and that was it. I was so tensed up I felt that I’d be sick if I tried to force down any more.
We finished eating and Beaky picked up her bird book again, sitting up on her heels to look over the dunes and occasionally ticking things off. Zed lay down on the sand with a plastic bag under his head and I folded up the sandwich wrappers neatly and then sat up, hugging my knees, pretending to look around me and wondering what to do next.
‘Here.’ Zed patted the sand beside him for me to lie down next to him. I hesitated for just a moment – the last thing I wanted was to be closer to him – but I knew I had to act as if I really liked him. I stretched out by his side and his hand reached for mine. His fingers started stroking my palm with the insistent rhythm I remembered from the week before: smoothly, evenly. ‘OK, Babes?’ he said.
‘OK,’ I replied. I made myself turn and look into his eyes, then forced myself to smile.
‘I’ve got a lovely bottle of wine back at mine,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Pink wine – you’ll like it. I thought we could go back and have a glass or two. And then – well, just see what happens afterwards.’
I nodded and tried to look at him lovingly, tried to pretend that to be alone with him was what I wanted most in all the world.
He nodded towards Beaky. ‘We’ve just got to get rid of her.’
Beaky gave no indication that she’d heard him, just carried on looking out across the dunes with a small pair of binoculars she’d brought with her.
Another moment went by and Zed’s face moved closer to mine, as if he was going to kiss me. As he lifted his head off the ground and his lips came closer, I panicked. I pretended I was about to sneeze, sat up, found a tissue and blew my nose.
‘Sorry. Bit of hay fever,’ I said.
Zed sat up as well. ‘You going to carry on watching birds, then?’ he said to Beaky. ‘You staying here?’
Beaky looked down at us. ‘What else is on offer?’ she asked.
‘Nothing for you,’ he said. ‘But Buzybee and me might take a walk. I want to show her my flat.’
I gave Beaky a look, an ohmygod look of pure panic.
She put her head on one side, smiling at Zed in a flirtatious way. ‘Oh. Can’t I come and see your flat, too?’
Zed just gave her a disgusted look. ‘Can’t you take a hint?’ he said. ‘D’you always hang around when you’re not wanted?’
Beaky was brilliant. She just smiled at him flirtatiously. ‘Just thought you might like to entertain me as well,’ she said.
There was a moment’s pause and I could almost see Zed’s mind working. Was this on the level? Was he about to get two girls for the price of one?
‘A threesome,’ Beaky added, just in case he needed further explanation. ‘We’ve read about them in the Sunday papers, haven’t we, Amy?’
I made a noise of agreement and felt a little trickle of sweat run right down my back.
Zed was breathing with his mouth open. ‘What d’you mean by threesome?’ he asked.
‘We thought you could tell us,’ Beaky said. ‘You’re a man of the world, aren’t you?’
Zed went to say something, but didn’t manage it.
‘Me, Amy and you,’ Beaky said lightly. ‘All together.’
Zed was almost drooling. He looked disgusting – was disgusting. How could I have ever, even for a moment, thought I fancied him? ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go back to my flat now.’
I licked my dry lips, wondering how Beaky was going to get out of this. She’d gone too far, surely. There was no way I was going back to his flat, absolutely no way.
‘How about we have a swim, first,’ Beaky said. ‘We could skinny dip. Just to get us in the mood.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, let’s do that.’
Beaky looked at Zed and smiled suggestively, ‘If you dare.’
There was a moment’s pause. ‘Swim naked?’ Zed said. He smiled. ‘After you, then. Ladies first.’
I glanced at Beaky for my cue.
‘Me and Amy have already got our bikinis on, so we’ll take them off in the water,’ she said. She looked at me. ‘Won’t we, Amy?’
I nodded. ‘Sure,’ I said croakily. ‘We’ll take everything off once we get in there.’ I glanced at Zed. He hadn’t moved. ‘And then we’ll go back to yours,’ I added.
‘Where is it you live?’ Beaky asked. ‘Is it far?’
Zed jerked his head. ‘Back in town. Pumfret Street.’
‘Pumfret Street,’ I repeated. I remembered the odd name from when I’d seen it written. It was one of those horrible back streets which had tall, dark houses with sheets and mattresses stuck up at the windows. So he obviously didn’t have a new flat in the marina at all. Not that all that mattered any more.
Beaky stood up. ‘OK, are we having that swim?’
She stood up, got out of her jeans, then pulled off her top. I stood up too, and, shivering all over, got down to my bikini.
He looked at me and I felt utterly naked and exposed, but knew from the way he was smirking that he’d already seen more of me than he was seeing now.
‘See you in the water,’ he said.
‘Oh, come on, Zed!’ Beaky said. ‘If we’re going to strip off, you’ve got to do it as well. Besi
des, we want to see what we’re getting, don’t we, Amy?’
‘Sure,’ I said, forcing a smile.
He looked from one of us to the other, then he kicked his shoes off and stood up. He undid the clasp on his shorts and stepped out of them, revealing a pair of black boxer shorts, then pulled off his tee-shirt and chucked it down onto the sand. He did all these things with a smirk on his face, swaggeringly, and I knew just what he was thinking: two birds and they both want me.
But I still didn’t know. Not until he turned away from us would I know.
‘You lead the way!’ Beaky said, and as he turned to go across a sand dune towards the sea I held my breath and everything seemed to go into slow motion.
As he went sideways on to us, I saw it. It was over the lower half of his back, just like in my dream. A blotch like spilled wine. A rich, dark red, mottling to purple at the edges.
I let out a little scream.
Beaky, close behind me, took my arm and held onto it tightly. ‘Your ankle!’ she said. ‘Did your ankle go again?’
I looked at her, shocked, not realising what she was getting at.
‘Your ankle,’ she said deliberately. She looked at me for a split-second and then dropped down and started massaging my foot. ‘You must have ricked it when you got up.’
Feeling faint, I crouched down next to her. All I could think of was that it was true. It was true. He’d got the birthmark. What I’d thought I’d dreamed, had really happened.
‘You’ve gone white,’ Beaky said. ‘I’ve done my first aid course – you have to put your head between your knees.’ She pushed my head down and I heard her say to Zed, ‘It’s OK. She’s just done her ankle in again. It happens sometimes.’ A moment later she said, ‘I don’t think we’ll be able to go swimming, after all. In fact, I think I’d better get her on the next train. She’s in pain – aren’t you, Amy?’
I nodded weakly and gave a groan that sounded more like a whimper. I couldn’t speak. All I could think of was that it was true. It had all really happened to me …
And then …
‘And then, after that?’ the policewoman prompted.
I yawned, suddenly feeling drained. Telling the story had kept me going. I’d wanted to give every last detail, but now it had been told I wanted to go home.
‘Well, Beaky and I didn’t say anything to him – he had no idea what was going on, just thought I’d done my ankle in. Beaky used her mobile and called a taxi, and we went back to the station and caught the next train home.’
‘And you went straight back to tell your mum and dad?’
I nodded, and glanced across at the blacked-out window behind which my mum and dad were sitting, watching me and listening to every word.
I hung my head and swallowed hard. ‘Telling them was horrible. I mean, I knew it was all my fault … I should never have gone down there in the first place. I know my mum will never trust me again.’
‘But you’ve done the right thing now,’ the policewoman said quietly. ‘You’ve done absolutely the right thing by coming here. You’re safe now, and we can take over.’
‘What about … what about him, though? I mean, if he says he didn’t do anything then it’s just his word against mine, isn’t it?’
The policewoman shook her head and smiled slightly. ‘I can tell you now that we’ve picked him up already. As soon as you came in here yesterday and reported what had happened, we got a local unit onto him. He’s known in the area, and they went straight round to his house.’
‘Pumfret Street?’
‘That’s right. They’ve found some photographs – some incriminating shots.’
I felt myself going red and couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Photographs of me? With nothing on?’
‘Of you – and of two other young girls he met, presumably on the Internet.’
I turned away from her.
‘If it makes you feel any better, you can just think that you’ve been lucky.’
‘I don’t feel very lucky,’ I said.
‘It could have been so much worse. We could have been looking at a rape charge – or something even more serious than that. It’s a horrible, horrible experience you’ve been through, but he just took photographs, that’s all.’
‘Will he go to prison?’
‘We certainly hope so,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the photographs as proof and we’ll try and get in touch with the other two girls. But even if we don’t find them we’ve got the evidence of you and your friend.’ She smiled at me, ‘Good old Beaky, eh?’
I nodded. Good old Beaky. She’d been brilliant.
‘And, well, you know what I’m going to say, don’t you? You can chat to people on the Internet as much as you like, but – ’
‘It’s OK,’ I said, interrupting her. ‘I won’t.’
She clicked the button on the recorder to the ‘off’ position. ‘It’s been a very long day, but you’ve done really well, Amy. You can go home now. We’ll be in touch if we want to know anything else.’ She looked directly towards the black glass wall and spoke. ‘You can come in, now, Mr and Mrs Westall. You can take Amy home.’
I began crying and the policewoman got up and put her arm round me. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise. They’re cross with you – but mostly they’re just relieved that you’re safe.’
I looked up at her. ‘I feel dirty, though. Used.’
‘Look, Amy,’ she said. ‘Horrible things happen, but we have to learn to deal with them; put them behind us. Don’t let what’s happened to you stop you enjoying the rest of your life. Don’t let him do that to you.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ I said shakily, and then the door opened and Mum and Dad were standing in the doorway. They looked as they had done last night when I’d told them: shocked and worried and bewildered – but they were there. Still there for me.
‘Off you go, then,’ the policewoman said, and I smiled my thanks at her, got up and ran straight into my mum’s arms.
Also by Mary Hooper
CONTEMPORARY FICTION
Megan
Megan 2
Megan 3
Holly
Chelsea and Astra: Two Sides of the Story
Zara
HISTORICAL FICTION
At the Sign of the Sugared Plum
Petals in the Ashes
The Fever and the Flame
(a special omnibus edition of the two books above)
The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose
At the House of the Magician
By Royal Command
The Betrayal
READ ON FOR A TASTER OF MEGAN 1 BY MARY HOOPER …
CHAPTER ONE
The lesson was Personal Development.
I was glad about that. Not glad it was that particular subject, I mean, but glad that because it was, the boys weren’t in with us. In our school, when we have PD, the boys have extra sport. Maybe they don’t need to be developed personally, or maybe they’ve developed enough. Anyhow, they weren’t there and, because of what happened, I was glad.
Miss Springer, who takes us for it, isn’t quite a teacher, but a sort of pastoral person who we’re supposed to go and talk to if we’ve got any problems that aren’t school problems. To my living knowledge, no one has ever been.
Her lessons are a bit of a doss; Claire and I use them to send notes to each other or do Top Tens: top ten most luscious boys we know or top ten gorgeous TV soap stars and so on. The other thing we do in Miss Springer’s lessons is try and make her go red: she’s got ginger hair and a pale skin and she blushes really easily, so we set someone up to ask a question: ‘Miss Springer, what’s oral sex?’ or ‘Miss Springer, what’s an orgasm?’ and you get points on how red she goes.
What she was talking about in this particular lesson was female reproduction: periods and the pill and how it affects your body and so on. She was rambling on and I wasn’t taking all of it in and then she said, ‘Of course, it is possible to be pregnant and still have periods.�
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I didn’t hear what she went on to after that, I was just stuck on that: Of course, it is possible to be pregnant and still have periods.
Claire passed me a note but I didn’t look down, just sat staring to the front of the class, where Miss Springer stood, smiling and chatting away, trying to be your favourite auntie. I stared so hard her red hair blurred into a mist: Of course, it is possible to be pregnant and still have periods.
Claire nudged me and impatiently jiggled the note up and down on my desk to make me take notice of it.
I looked down. Top Ten of Records with the Word Love in the Title I read, but it didn’t mean a thing.
Without thinking, my hand moved onto my stomach. It didn’t feel any different. But was that because I didn’t want it to? Was it just a bit bigger? Rounder? More wobbly?
‘There are many different versions of the Pill now and if you do start taking one particular brand and later find that it doesn’t agree with you, then do go back to your doctor or clinic,’ Miss Springer went on cheerfully.
‘I can only think of five,’ Claire said in a whisper. ‘Do you know any more?’
I looked down at the Top Ten again, then back to Miss Springer. Her hair was so frizzy and bright that it almost made me feel sick.
Of course, it is possible to be pregnant and still have periods.
I’d missed one period, last month. I was due on again next week, and I’d decided to go to the doctor or at least mention it to someone if it didn’t happen. I wasn’t worried, though (that is, I hadn’t been worried) because I thought there was no way I could possibly be pregnant. How could I be?
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and London
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square
London WC1B 3DP
This electronic edition published in October 2012
Text copyright © Mary Hooper 2002