The Wild Girls

by Phoebe Morgan

  Alice shakes her head. Something seems to flash across Nate’s face, and she worries that he wants to be with Felicity, is fed up of being stuck here talking to her. But then he continues, ‘Well, Flick said Hannah lives round the corner, right? And her boyfriend’s at home?’

  Alice nods. ‘Chris will be home, yep. God, poor Han. I did think she was a bit out of character tonight. She’s not normally such a booze hound.’

  She laughs a little at her own words, then feels guilty. She fires off a quick message to Hannah, asking her to call her in the morning, and texts Chris too, just to be on the safe side.

  H in cab home – too much to drink. Look out for her, will you? Won’t stay tonight. X

  ‘I was meant to be staying at theirs,’ Alice says morosely, realising that now she’ll have to go home – she can hardly wake Hannah up later if she’s already in such a state, she’ll just pass out the minute she gets home. Her phone flashes up in her hand and Alice think it’s Chris but it’s Tom, three words: I’m so sorry. And then, Come home. Please. Xx

  She sees Nate’s eyes darting to her screen and when she catches him, he looks a bit sheepish.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to read your texts.’ He colours a bit, Alice thinks, but it’s so dark over here that she can’t really tell.

  ‘Boyfriend trouble? The guy earlier?’

  She sighs, takes a sip of her drink. She’d got herself another wine, assuming Nate had found Felicity, but actually she doesn’t really want it now; she thinks she’s had enough, and it takes quite a lot for her to say that.

  ‘Tom, yes.’ Alice nods, her voice thick.

  ‘I can’t believe any guy would be foolish enough to mess you around,’ Nathaniel says quietly, and Alice is suddenly aware of how close he is to her, the press of his leg against her thigh. She goes hot all over. There is a line, a very clear line here, and she cannot let herself cross it.

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘you know. It is what it is. We’ve’ – she coughs, feeling awkward – ‘we’ve been together a long time. A few years, now.’

  ‘People change,’ Nate says, and he lifts up a hand, brushes a strand of hair from Alice’s face where it has fallen forward as she hunched over her phone. His skin is warm and dry, unlike hers which is beginning to feel sticky with sweat. Alice lifts her head, just slightly, scanning the club for Felicity and Grace, but there are far more people here now, their bodies writhing and bucking to the music, blocking the two of them from view. They are alone on the sofas. The strangers mask them, and the line feels blurrier now, less and less clear.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, Alice,’ Nate murmurs in her ear, and he slowly moves his other hand so that it is at the very top of Alice’s thigh, his fingers almost reaching her crotch, and she can’t help it – she knows how wrong this is, how awful, but she lets out a tiny little moan, the sound escaping her almost without her realising. She can feel the rigidity of his body, the anticipation of her own. The music is throbbing around them, and it’s so dark, and his lips are inches away from hers. There is a sickening pulse between her legs that she cannot stop no matter how hard she tries, and Alice thinks of Tom at home, of his fingers sinking into her arm, the shock and the pain of it. She thinks of Felicity, laughing, smiling brightly, her hand in Nate’s, and she thinks of her giggling, both of them doubled over, bound together in friendship, and then his body shifts so that his fingers touch Alice’s crotch and she gives in, his lips finding hers, both of them leaning forward, a soft groan, her body yielding to his.

  And then Alice opens her eyes because there is a bright white flash, the sound of a camera-phone clicking, up close, and then out of the corner of her eye she sees the shadowy figure of a woman, moving away from them, unspeaking, the evidence captured forever. She blinks frantically, springs away from Nate, but it is too late – the body of strangers continues to heave and writhe, and whoever it was is lost in the crowd, in the music, swallowed up in the bar. The sound seems to swell around her as the panic rises in her throat – Alice stands and spins around, trying to see who it was, whether it was Felicity herself or one of the others. But it’s useless.

  She is gone.

  Part Three

  Chapter Nineteen

  29th March

  Botswana

  Grace

  My throat is dry and parched. I have been following the river for what must be close to an hour, now, forcing myself to keep going, slowing my pace from a run to a walk when the heat began to overcome me. Overhead, the sky is blue, almost obscenely so, a brilliant, cloudless colour that seems to mock me. I wish I had had the foresight to bring something from the lodge – water, fruit to eat, but I was so frightened, so terrified after seeing Hannah, dead at the dining-room table, the blood congealing beneath her, the steady drip of it onto the floor. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and I try not to think about what could happen if I don’t reach safety – the thought of dehydration makes my chest tighten, and I need to stay calm, to be able to think as clearly and rationally as I can.

  The river water glimmers up at me, but I have no idea if it’s safe to drink – it seems unlikely, although in some ways now the thought of plunging in, immersing myself in it is strangely tempting. A frog glistens greedily on the bank, belching quietly; above me, swallows dip and glide as though nothing is wrong. The water feels like it is calling to me, inviting me in, reaching out dangerous hands that will pull me under. No. I must keep going. I picture the lodge – Alice’s body rotting beneath the towel, the eerie sight of Hannah propped up at the table. The blood, the smell, the death. I imagine flies finding them, crawling all over their eyelids, my once-beautiful friends becoming fodder for insects. The thought makes me feel sick, and I momentarily pause, crouch down, touch my palms to the hot dry earth beneath me. It is scorched, red; it goes on for miles. The cut on my finger has dried now, a thin sliver of rust the only reminder.

  Hannah’s phone has 7 per cent battery life.

  I must keep going.

  I get to my feet, brushing the dirt from the ground off my hands, and continue walking, determined not to look back, or to look out towards the plains for fear of what I might see. As I do so, I think about my friends, and the myriad ways in which I have let them down.

  Why did I not tell them about the rape when it happened? Why did I not entrust them with it, this thing that had happened to me and had thrown my life off course? Perhaps if I had, things would be different; the four of us might never have fallen out in the way that we did. If I had found a better way of telling Felicity about Nate that night at The Upper Vault, I might have been able to show him for what he was.

  If I had trusted Alice and Hannah with the truth, too, they might have felt able to share their truths with me, because mine wasn’t the only secret that night, I know it wasn’t. None of us is blameless.

  As I round the corner, exhaustion filling every limb, I see that to my relief, the river has led me to a dirt track; empty, and run-down, but indisputably there. I feel a lift inside me and run towards it, ignoring the way my muscles are screaming in protest and the raw dryness of my throat. My feet find the road and I push myself harder, away from the river and the plains now, propelling myself forward, desperate to see a sign of life. Instead, I am confronted with death – a donkey lies prone on the verge, its hooves still and cracked with the heat, its skin crawling with maggots. Tears prick my eyes as I stare at it, helpless. I’ve never felt further from home.

  And then I hear it. A car.

  The sound of it ignites something within me and I begin to run faster, leaving the poor donkey behind, terrified that the vehicle will come and go, pass me by before I can flag it down. Abruptly, the track splits and I reach a crossroads, just in time to see the dark blue car slowing, its wheels crunching on the hot road. The sight of it is like an oasis; relief swells in my chest.

  I raise my arms, one sweaty hand still clutching Hannah’s phone, and begin to limp towards it, breathing hard. I cannot see who is inside; the sun is glaring onto
the windows, making them appear black, and I squint, hold a hand to my brow in an attempt to shade my eyes from the light. Let it be a woman, I think, please let it be a woman.

  The car slows to a stop, and the driver cuts the engine. I am mere metres away now.

  ‘Please,’ I say, ‘you have to help me. I’m British, I’m here on holiday, and there’s been a terrible—’

  My words dry up as I see his face.

  Nathaniel.

  ‘Grace,’ he says, smiling at me, as if all this is totally normal, as if we’re not in the middle of absolutely nowhere in Botswana, and that instead we’re back at my parents’ garden party, and he’s introducing himself over the barbecue, like he did on that fateful day, the very first time we met. ‘How are you?’

  It takes me a few seconds to find my voice, and when I do, it comes out as a croak. Weak and exhausted.

  ‘What are you – how are you here?’

  He frowns at me.

  ‘I’m here to see you.’

  I step back from him, almost tripping in my haste. My head is spinning. I want help – I need help, but I don’t want it to come from this man. This monster. I told myself that I had to face my fears, but those didn’t include seeing Nathaniel. I knew that if I wanted the girls back in my life, Felicity’s disbelief was a price I would have to pay. I told myself that what happened to me was in the past, that it wasn’t worth losing all three of my closest friends over. I had tried to tell Felicity the truth, and it hadn’t worked. Therefore, I had to accept her reaction, and if I wanted to be a part of the group again, I would have to live with it. I had never planned to find myself alone with him – never. I thought they had broken up.

  ‘Where’s Felicity?’ I say to him, clutching Hannah’s phone so tightly that I feel the plastic casing slip underneath my fingers. My eyes flicker down, quickly checking the battery: 5 per cent. I need to have a phone, I need to be able to call for help.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ I shout, as he takes a step forward, his hands outstretched, but he laughs, holds them up by his head, a peace gesture.

  ‘Where’s Felicity?’ I say again, when he doesn’t reply, but he simply shakes his head, gives a little tut as though I am a naughty child and he’s putting me in my place.

  ‘Felicity…’ he says, as if pondering her name. He’s standing with his arm resting on the car door, casually, as if completely relaxed. Anxiety twists inside me. I remember his face above mine, the tears on my own as I begged him to stop. The look in his eyes when he finished. The way he zipped up his jeans, afterwards, and went back out to the party, shook hands with my father. The way he rang me obsessively afterwards, the messages he sent. I have put myself at risk, yet again – I can’t believe I came out here without having full confirmation that they’d split up, that I thought I was brave enough to handle anything. That I should have been brave enough to handle it – why should I? What he did to me was wrong, and no matter what my parents think, or what Felicity thinks, it happened.

  I will not let this man beat me.

  ‘Alice and Hannah are dead,’ I say, matter-of-factly. ‘The lodge we were invited to was empty on arrival. Felicity wasn’t there.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Did you do this to them?’

  He recoils from me, and a strange expression flits across his face; disgust, or shock. ‘Of course I didn’t,’ he says, spreading his hands, palms raised to the blue sky above, the picture of reason. ‘God, Grace, what do you take me for? I mean, Jesus, I know you were… hurt by what happened between us, but… how long have you been out in the sun?’ He looks concerned, now, and reaches into the car, pulls out a bottle of water from the side pocket of the driver’s seat. I look behind him – there is nobody else there.

  ‘Here,’ he says, ‘you look like you need this. Do you feel dizzy at all, confused? You might have got sunstroke, you know. The heat’s a lot stronger out here than it is back home.’

  He holds the water bottle out to me, and I can’t help it – I grab it, take a long drink before I can worry about whether he might have put something in it. I am so thirsty, and I gulp it down quickly, finish the bottle in seconds.

  ‘Told you you were thirsty,’ he says, smiling as if I haven’t just told him that my friends have been killed, and I watch him in horror, wondering if he really is more unhinged than I ever thought, even back then, when he had my friends under his spell, when only I could see the truth.

  ‘Come on, Grace, get in the car,’ he says, and his voice is gentler now. ‘Let me drive you back to the lodge.’

  ‘I can’t go back there!’ I say. ‘We need to go to a police station, we need to report their deaths! Didn’t you hear me? Two of my friends are lying dead – someone out here has murdered them.’

  ‘Look,’ Nathaniel says, ‘I don’t know what Felicity has told you, Grace, but the two of us broke up months ago. In New York. I was never meant to be here. I don’t know anything about your friends, but I’d say Felicity probably does. She isn’t… she isn’t the woman I thought she was. She sent me a strange message last night, saying you were all out here, and that she was going to get her revenge for that night at The Upper Vault. That you’d betrayed her. I got worried when she wasn’t replying to any of my messages – worried about her state of mind, and about you as well. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. You know how much I care about you, Grace, how much I’ve always cared. I’ve told you so many times now. If we go back to where you were all staying, I can help you look around. Felicity must be there, I’m sure of it.’

  I’m still holding the bottle of water; the cool drink has helped, a little, and I stare at him, my mind racing, trying desperately to process what he is saying. Felicity and he broke up in New York – we were right, then? My mind spools back, thinking about her messages – she’d never mentioned him at all. If what he is saying is true, Felicity really had been out here, alone – had we all walked into her trap?

  Unless he’s lying, of course.

  He’s watching me, his head tilted slightly to one side. He can see me weighing up the risks. I look up and down the road; nothing. No one. How long would it be before another car came along here? How long can I keep walking, before the day turns to night? In my left hand, Hannah’s phone vibrates, and I look down to see the battery icon flash up on the screen, before it turns black. Dead. I have no way of phoning anyone, now.

  ‘Grace? Come on, let me help you. I know you don’t like me, and I want to change that, to talk to you about what you think happened between us, but look, I’m not a killer. I’m here to find Felicity, and to make sure you’re OK. I care about her welfare too, just as much as you do. We were together for years, remember? But I know she’s not well – in the last few months in New York it became more… obvious. Even your friend Hannah, she rang me yesterday, telling me she suspected something. She wanted me to help you. She knew something wasn’t right.’ He pauses, sighs as though remembering something unpleasant. ‘Look, I don’t know who attacked your friends, but I will help you find out.’

  A pause. I can’t believe that Hannah would have called Nate; she told us she didn’t have his number, but then I think of her strangeness when we were trying to get hold of him, the expression on her face. Perhaps she didn’t want us to know. Another secret.

  ‘C’mon,’ he says, ‘what else are you going to do? You can’t stay out here on your own, it isn’t safe. You must know that, Grace.’

  His eyes meet mine and he attempts a smile.

  ‘No,’ I say, ‘I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t trust you.’

  ‘Grace,’ he says, and he is genial again, spreading his palms as if trying to show me how harmless he is, how easy-going. He would fool anyone. He fooled Felicity. He fooled me.

  But he won’t fool me again.

  ‘Come on,’ he says, and this time there is an edge of impatience in his tone; almost imperceptible, but there. He takes a step towards me, reaches out a hand as if to take mine. I stand stock-still, like an animal, try
ing to assess whether I can possibly run. But I can’t outrun a car. Not without food, not without water. I could try to retrace my steps to the lodges, but he will come after me.

  He takes another step forward.

  I know I have no choice.

  ‘No, no, come round the front,’ he says when I eventually put a hand on the backseat door handle. The metal is boiling hot, and reluctantly, I do as he says, going round to the passenger side. My heart is thudding, and fear knots in my stomach, but I know I cannot go on as I am, running through the wilderness with no sense of direction, and, crucially, no food or drink. At least if I am inside the car, I can find a way to get water, and I can work out some sort of plan. If I can find a way to appease him, I might be able to get what I want. I might be able to outwit him at his own game, if I am very, very careful.

  I slide Hannah’s phone into my pocket, and as I do so, I feel the hard, cold sliver of the shard of glass I put there this morning. I run my finger over it, gently, and take a deep breath, forcing myself to go against my instincts, to keep calm. A plan is forming in my mind.

  Inside Nathaniel’s car, it is blissfully cool; the air conditioning blasts my legs and my torso, and the seat is soft and yielding underneath me. In spite of everything, I feel a strange sense of relief at being in a familiar environment. All I want is to get back home. I can’t stop going over what Nathaniel has said: if he and Felicity really had broken up months ago, it explained why he wasn’t on any of her social channels, why she didn’t mention him in any messages. But why hadn’t she told us? And why did they break up? Could it be that she finally saw through him, after all?

  ‘Seatbelt on,’ Nate says, smiling at me, as if we are a couple heading off for a picnic, not two virtual strangers with a horrible, dark past. He puts on his own, his hand brushing against my leg as he buckles himself in, and not knowing what else to do, I follow suit. I hear a clunking sound, and realise he’s activated the automatic locking system. I am trapped.