There was little to no swell, and going down the east, protected side of the island it wouldn't have reached him even if there was. But the water was a little choppy, making the boat bounce up and down. And he had to steer well wide of the island in places, to avoid areas where he feared that rocks lurked just under the surface. Soon the tip of the lighthouse itself became visible above the curve of the cliff, and when it did he steered towards it. As he drove Geoffrey was desperately trying to remember how the landing stage looked. He knew the lighthouse had one – a tiny stone quay that was built into a natural gully in the rocks. It was a favourite spot for him to eat his sandwiches when walking around the island. He had even swum from it on one occasion, but had never approached it at night in a small boat. He slowed as he drew close. Fortunately the moonlight was sufficient that he could make out the unnatural straight edge of the quay wall, and he nosed in gently towards it. There was a crunching sound as the hull scraped over some rocks, but it was a glancing blow that served to redirect the boat in the right direction. The water in this little protected gully was perfectly calm, so that Geoffrey was able to knock the motor out of gear and glide the final few feet. He grabbed the cold stone wall hungrily, and then nearly fell into the water, such was his rush to climb from the boat and onto the quay.
He tied the boat to an iron ring cast in to the concrete, and glanced back at the dinghy, barely believing he had just stolen it. Now he was here he felt suddenly unsure why he had come, and with such urgency. There were no lights on, there was no sound, other than the lapping of water. Everything seemed quite peaceful. But having come this far he had no choice but to continue up to the lighthouse complex and check more carefully. For the first time in several hours, Geoffrey smiled at himself. He would enjoy telling Julia about this story one day. The night he completely misunderstood the situation and actually stole a boat!
He began to climb the stone steps up to where the buildings were. As he did so he heard a sudden, terrified scream.
Sixty
When Julia awoke she was completely disorientated. Her arms and legs hurt from where they had been cramped up and her back was throbbing even worse than it normally did. As usual, her first conscious thoughts were for Dramadol.
Then her mind turned – almost abstractly – to why she had suddenly woken. There was a shaft of yellow light running up and down the border of this strange world she had awoken in. What world? Where was she? Then there was the sound of a tap running. And voices. Voices she knew. The soft, breathy sound of Becky speaking, the harsher tones of Rob.
Suddenly it all came back to her. The black, close walls were the inside of their wardrobe. The yellow slit of light was because they had returned from their night out. Why was she there? The thick, round shaft of the gardening fork explained that – she was there to kill them.
But the rage, the calculating, controlled drive which had put her there was, for the moment, gone. It was as if the Julia that had woken in that wardrobe was an entirely different person to the Julia who had climbed in a few hours earlier. She unclasped her hands in horror, then panicked as the fork banged against the inside of the wardrobe. Could she escape? Could she push her way out of this black prison and get away while they were in the bathroom? Desperately, Julia put her eye to the crack in the door. She couldn't see anyone, but she could hear them talking just a few feet away. It was too close, the room too small. If she tried to move they would see her – and what then?
And then the words they were saying registered with Julia.
"You know, talking about Julia, did I tell you I thought I saw her the other day?"
Julia froze anew. Her view of the bedroom disappeared for a moment as Becky walked right in front of the crack of light.
"She was watching me when I was in the water, surfing."
There was no opportunity now for Julia to escape, and no way she couldn't hear as Rob went on to insult her. To call her a crazy person, to tear apart her good character. To call her false. And then to be forced to listen as Becky laid into her work. To criticise her masterpiece, calling it overrated.
Quickly, Julia refilled herself with all the boiling rage, the injustice, the furious anger which had been momentarily absent when she woke.
Then there was something she never expected. Speaking quietly, just beyond the wooden wardrobe door, Becky began to explain how Julia had approached her with the plan to claim that Rob was driving the car on that night. As if she had been trying to frame him! She felt such outrage now that she nearly leapt out of the wardrobe screaming her innocence of such a vile accusation. Julia's suggestion had been the only reasonable thing to do in the circumstances – to paint it as anything else, to distort it as such was... was... insanity.
Julia found herself taking short, sharp intakes of breath. She found that her hands had gripped down hard on the fork. Then Becky lied again. Telling Rob that she had insisted Rob had deleted all the photographs from that night. The vixen. The deceitful, lying little vixen. Julia was baring her teeth. Grinding them together. And then came the true humiliation.
"I think she made a pass at me."
That's not true, Julia wanted to scream out. It was you. You led me on. It was your fault, in that dirty little nothing of a pyjama top! But Julia couldn't say a word. She was forced to keep herself still, and listen passively as they humiliated her. One thing after the other, taking it in turns to heap shame upon her.
The images began to flow through her mind now. Visualisations in her head of how it was going to happen. How she would burst out and impale them. How she would puncture and rip at their bodies until they could hurt her no more. It was almost impossible for Julia to tell what was real and what was in her mind. The images came thick and fast. She felt her arms moving, the muscles twitching as her mind tried to decipher whether they really were stabbing and tearing, or if this was just in her head.
Julia fought to hold herself together. She poised herself ready to go. And then Becky began to scream:
"Rob, what if she’s in there? In there right now. What if she’s here to kill us?”
And, as if answering the instructions of a higher power, she pushed open the wardrobe door.
Sixty-One
For a moment there was total silence. For Becky and Rob it was the sheer shock and surprise of seeing her there, stretching and emerging from behind the clothes, a huge gardening fork held in her gloved hands.
Then Rob screamed. Not how she had imagined it. This wasn't the scream of a capable, protecting boyfriend, but of a boy filled with terror that there really was a monster under the bed. It made Julia click into action. The last thing she wanted was someone to hear what was happening. She lifted the fork in front of her, meaning perhaps only to threaten him. To shut him up. But she tripped.
There wasn’t much room between the wardrobe and the foot of the bed, so that, as Julia moved forwards, her legs struck the bed frame, and toppled forwards. She put the fork out in front of her, to break her fall. And all four of the thick steel tines planted themselves neatly into Rob’s chest. In a panic Julia tried to push herself off, but all this achieved was to push the tines deeper into him, the steel slipping through the gaps between his ribs. Abruptly the scream stopped, replaced now by a sickening, gurgling sound. Becky stared and blinked in horror. Then she found her voice and screamed too, a higher-pitched, nauseating sound.
Rob's hands had gone to protect himself, and both now held onto the outer two tines of the fork, like he were a prisoner hanging from the bars of his cell. For some reason this brought to the surface an anger in Julia. It was her fork. He was stealing it, literally sucking it into his body in front of her. But her response was to push it still deeper into him, feeling the tines slide past his ribs, and then feeling the lessening of resistance once they were past. She pushed it deeper again, until they could sink no more.
Becky’s crying grew louder, and Julia fought to her feet, using the garden fork to pull herself up, and then she was standing on the bed,
her head banging into the light fitting. She put a booted foot on his chest and pulled the fork out of him, then without allowing any thought, she plunged it down again. Then again, and again and again. Blood fountained up from the holes, spraying the walls and turning the covers deep red. Julia’s head kept hitting the light, sending crazy shadows rolling around the little room, and Becky’s screams filled the air, ear-splitting, horrible noises. Eventually they forced Julia’s broken mind to consider her too.
Julia stopped and looked across at her. Becky had crawled backward so far on the bed that she had fallen onto the floor. Now she had scrambled back to her feet, but was cowering in the corner of the room. When Julia looked at her she stopped screaming. Instead, there was only a horrified, questioning look in her eyes. For a second they stared at each other. For Becky there was no way to escape without getting past Julia, and she had no weapon or means to defend herself.
For a long, strange moment, neither of them moved. Only after a while did it dawn on Julia that Becky was trying to communicate with her. Not by speech – she didn’t seem able to talk at all – but by shaking her head, as if imploring for some kind of mercy. But Julia didn’t feel merciful, she felt powerful. For the first time in months, she felt she was taking charge of the situation. With her hand gripped tightly around the handle and shaft of her weapon she placed her boot on the head of the fork, and with her eyes on Becky she leaned all her weight onto it, driving the tines to the hilt. There was a crunch, and what movements Rob had been making stopped.
Julia glanced down at him now. The man she had hated and feared for so long, vanquished. And it was so easy. She pulled hard to release the fork, then turned back to look at Becky again. This time Julia didn't hesitate, she launched herself, steel tines first, towards the girl.
But Becky moved at exactly the same time, scrabbling frantically to her left, so that Julia’s lunge didn’t spear her victim as she intended. Instead the tines of the fork cut into the wall, and stuck there with the force of the blow. As fast as she could, Julia got back to her feet and pulled her weapon out, then turned, looking for Becky, this time to swipe at her head, to bash her to death. But Becky had a head start this time and was already nearly at the door – she seemed to be moving as an animal might, no longer on two legs but lurching on all fours.
Then Julia charged again. But this time Becky ran.
They ran from the bright light of the bedroom into the darkness of the dining room, the world changing from vivid horror to shadowy hell. Julia held the fork in front of herself like a spear, and had to slow down to avoid running into the furniture or walls. But Becky just ran, and from the sudden crash, had clearly not managed to avoid the tables and chairs of the dining room. In the semi-light Julia saw her sprawling on the floor, and she lunged forward again with the fork, jabbing it at where the girl was desperately trying to pick herself up. It wasn’t a clean connection but she felt the fork’s spikes connect with Becky’s leg. She thought she saw a flash of red where her calf muscle was opened up. But it wasn’t enough to stop Becky and before Julia could land another blow the girl was up and moving again, this time throwing chairs behind her to stop Julia’s progress. Julia felt a sudden moment of fear. Becky was going to make it outside, and if she did that she could disappear into the darkness. There was no way Julia would be able to track her down amongst the stone walls, the rocks and gullies that surrounded the lighthouse. She would find her way to the village and raise the alarm. Julia’s fear increased and she picked herself up again, but she was too late. Becky crashed into the door and disappeared through it.
Now Julia’s fear hardened again into anger. How dare the girl try to escape? She had no right to threaten her. She had no right to live. Though Julia knew on some level she was beaten, she swept the chairs out of the way with the fork and followed the girl outside.
Julia expected to see nothing but night, allowing Becky to escape in almost any direction, to a dozen possible hiding places. And for a second or so she was right, but then the automatic outside lights clicked on, triggered – on a slight delay – by movement. Two wide-beamed bright spotlights suddenly threw the entire courtyard area into sharp relief. There, holding onto the outer wall for support, and making for the gate, she saw Becky.
Perhaps the girl had forgotten the light. If she had gone in the other direction she would have been out of the courtyard already and into the surrounding darkness, but she had moved in the direction of the lighthouse itself, meaning Julia was clearly able to see where she was heading. Julia didn’t hesitate – she held up her garden fork again, put down her head and charged.
The sight of the bloodied and crazed Julia hurtling towards her, combined with the thought of how she had murdered Rob, must have driven Becky to new levels of terror. The wound on her leg was bad, but not enough that she couldn’t move, and even now she could have run for the gate and lost herself in the unknown darkness. But that wasn’t what she did. Instead, she went towards the door of the lighthouse building. Perhaps she ran there because she knew it and felt secure there, the place where she had spent so much time. Or perhaps she simply ran towards a door she thought she could lock. Whichever, it became a race, the injured Becky slowed by her leg against the raging Julia, hampered by the huge gardening fork she was holding in front of her. It was a race that Becky won, but not by quite enough. She reached the door, pulled it open, then tried and failed to slam it shut behind her, before the tip of Julia’s fork crashed into it and smashed it open again. Julia went stumbling into the dark interior of the tower. Becky screamed, and retreated the only way left to her – up the tightening spiral staircase that led all the way up to the lantern room above their heads.
It wasn’t quite dark. There was an emergency light that always shone, a dull red glow, just enough to illuminate the curved treads of the stairs. Without thinking, Julia began to ascend, hearing the girl’s panting breaths and panicked steps directly above her.
Becky screamed now with no restraint, and the sound echoed up and down the vertical shaft of the tower. Then the sound of her footsteps stopped, and Julia sensed herself gaining on the girl, her excitement and appetite increasing as she saw how the tines would spear her. But then Julia sensed something was wrong. With a loud metallic clang, it became clear what it was. Bouncing down and around the stairs above her was a fire extinguisher, which Becky had removed from its bracket on the wall and thrown down towards her. There was no time to do anything; the heavy container was almost upon her, and Julia threw herself back against the curved wall behind her. The fire extinguisher bounced, five steps above, and then it struck the wall just inches from where Julia stood. She felt it rush through the air in front of her, and then it was past, and continued clanging down towards the bottom of the tower. Julia paused for a second, as if fearful of another bomb raining down on her, but Becky had only had the one shot. She whimpered with despair when she saw it had missed. Julia growled in response and continued her ascent.
Becky reached the upper door that led into the lantern room just a few steps in front of Julia. Again she tried to push it shut behind her. But it was half-hearted this time, as if she knew she was beaten, and Julia burst through and up into the room at the top of the lighthouse. It seemed bright in here, with the light from the moon streaming in through the wide windows. Julia stood, panting from the effort of running up the steps. Becky was nowhere to be seen. Julia stood gripping the fork tightly and looking around, her chest heaving. Then from behind her she heard a noise, and she turned just in time to put up her fork as a defence against Becky’s attack. The girl was wild, her hands formed into fists and trying to punch any part she could see, but it was easy for Julia to keep the fork between the girl and herself, so that most of Becky’s blows hit the metal and wooden shaft, and she soon backed off, crying in pain. Then Becky grabbed something – a pillow from the circular sofa that curled around the perimeter of the room – and tried to swing it at Julia.
It was such a pathetic attempt that Julia
grinned before she swung her weapon at Becky another time. Julia only managed a glancing blow, but it was into Becky’s stomach, and she watched the girl’s hands go to where the wound had landed. Becky staggered now. Julia tried again, stabbing harder, but the girl moved, this time backwards and out onto the balcony that encircled the tower. It was fitted with an iron balustrade, but beyond that there was nothing but the forty-metre drop to the rocks below. Becky moved around it, still trying to escape from Julia, but now she was slower. The combination of fear, shock and her injuries meant she was nearly beaten. Julia hesitated for only a half-second before she charged again. This time, Becky barely even tried to move. The vicious tips of the fork slammed into the soft flesh of her stomach and disappeared from view. Their eyes met for a moment, as the breath escaped from Becky for the last time. Then Julia snarled and leaned down on the fork’s handle, prising Becky upwards, her back twisting on the iron railings until, for a half-second, she was balanced right upon the edge, held in place above the precipice only by Julia's goodwill. She had total control now. The power of life and death. Julia hesitated, wanting to savour the moment.
“You wanted to know how it ends?” Julia said to the girl, staring into her eyes.
“This is how it ends. This is the only way.”
With a huge final effort Julia leaned down again on the handle, and Becky’s body was lifted off the iron deck and tipped over the edge. Julia opened her grip, letting Becky tumble out into the night.
Becky hit the tower as she fell, leaving smears of bloody red on its new, gleaming white paintwork, and with a thud she landed on the rocks at the foot of the lighthouse.
Sixty-Two
The Glass Tower Page 28