Bright Young Things

by Scarlett Thomas

  Outside it’s another sunny day, although the sky is slightly darker and there are clouds in the distance. At least people are talking about escape now. Bizarre that it took a dead man to get people to actually think about taking action. Thea wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t been here. Would these people ever have considered escape? She thinks about what Paul said, about what she has to go back to. Maybe even she would have stopped thinking about escape eventually.

  Emily makes better tea than Anne. They sit and sip it as if they’re cleaners on a tea-break. Bryn has gone to chop more wood for the fire, even though Emily says they’ll need it for the boat. Thea’s not sure where Paul and Anne have gone, or Jamie, come to that.

  ‘What do you make of Paul?’ asks Thea.

  ‘He’s a geek, isn’t he?’ says Emily. ‘A good-looking one, but definitely a geek.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘Some sort of animal activist or whatever.’

  ‘Yeah, I guessed that.’

  Emily smiles at Thea. ‘I’m glad you didn’t throw yourself off the cliffs last night.’

  ‘Me too,’ says Thea. She thinks for a moment. ‘Were you aware of that, then?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, everything really. You looked totally blank.’

  ‘Yeah, it was weird,’ says Emily. ‘All the sounds were like being under water. You know you hear these stories about people who wake up from their anaesthetic during an operation, and they can feel everything, but they’re paralysed from the other drugs? It was a bit like that. I was aware of everything, but I couldn’t do anything. Silly really.’ She grins. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about last night. It depresses me. Let’s have a girly chat.’

  ‘A girly chat?’

  ‘Yeah. Let’s stop stressing about everything.’

  Thea gets that old-person feeling again. She must humour Emily.

  ‘Did you know that Paul hasn’t had sex for six years?’ says Emily, conversationally.

  ‘Seriously?’

  It’s like Emily’s on some kind of weird prescription that only allows her to talk about the cheerful, the inane or the trivial. She’d make a great subject for a documentary right now, although Thea would want her to talk more about last night.

  ‘Uh huh,’ says Emily. ‘Six years.’

  ‘Why hasn’t he had sex for that long?’ Thea asks.

  ‘I can’t remember exactly why, but apparently he always tells women he’s a member of True Love Waits, and then if that doesn’t put them off, he goes out with them, but never actually sleeps with them.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘It was one of the truths last night after you went to bed.’

  ‘How old is Paul?’ asks Thea.

  ‘Twenty-five, I think,’ says Emily. ‘Yeah. That’s right. Twenty-five.’

  ‘So he last had sex when he was nineteen. I wonder what she did to him.’

  ‘Or he,’ says Emily, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I thought only Jamie had done it with a bloke.’

  ‘That’s true. That was a cool story, don’t you think?’

  ‘I thought it was a bit gross.’

  ‘I found it sexy,’ says Emily. ‘I’d love to . . . you know.’

  ‘With Jamie?’

  ‘Yeah. Shocking, huh?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be worried about disease? You know, after . . .’

  ‘Duh. He probably used a condom with whatshisname, silly.’

  ‘If he didn’t he was a complete moron,’ says Thea. ‘Where is he, by the way?’

  ‘Dunno,’ says Emily. ‘Upstairs?’

  ‘On his own?’

  ‘Maybe he went outside.’

  ‘I’ll go and look for him,’ says Thea.

  He’s not outside. Paul and Anne look like they’re doing some sort of school nature project, hovering around the trees with jam jars. It’s started raining, and the sky has stopped being blue. Thea smiles at Anne and goes back inside. Emily’s humming something and putting pasta on the stove. She hardly seems to notice as Thea walks past her and out of the kitchen.

  On the way upstairs there’s a noise which Thea can’t place. It intrigues her. It sounds like a baby, or even a baby animal, left alone without its mother.

  As soon as the enters the attic room she can see it’s coming from Jamie. He’s sitting by the bed with his knees drawn up, a file in his hand and an open suitcase by his feet. He’s crying.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Because of the dwindling light outside, the electric light is on. Suddenly, it goes off.

  ‘That’s the battery flat,’ says Paul.

  ‘I thought the power came directly into the house,’ says Anne.

  Paul shrugs. ‘Maybe it was connected wrong. Maybe it’s been coming off the battery.’

  There’s still enough light to see the spider eat the cricket Paul found.

  ‘Better put that away before Thea gets back,’ says Bryn.

  ‘Where is Thea?’ asks Emily.

  ‘And Jamie,’ says Bryn. ‘They both know how the batteries work.’ Bryn gets up and stretches. ‘I’ll go and look for them,’ he says.

  ‘Jamie’s been gone for ages,’ says Emily.

  Her pasta’s boiling over. She looks like she might cry.

  Anne’s spooning earth into the spider’s tank.

  ‘Can someone make a start carrying them logs through?’ Bryn says as he leaves.

  Five minutes later he’s back in the kitchen. Emily’s about to serve lunch.

  ‘Paul,’ he says, breathlessly. ‘Anne.’

  They both look at him. He knows he sounds freaked out. He has to sound casual. ‘I . . . just need your help for a second.’

  They can tell something’s wrong. They both get up immediately.

  Emily turns and smiles at them. ‘Hurry back,’ she says. ‘Before it gets cold.’

  ‘What is it?’ asks Paul, as soon as they are out of the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve got to come upstairs,’ says Bryn.

  ‘Why?’ asks Anne.

  Bryn shakes his head. ‘I can’t explain. It’s totally fucked up. Jamie’s in a mess.’

  ‘Jamie?’ says Paul. ‘What’s happened to him?’

  ‘He found something. Hurry up.’

  They all run up the stairs and into the attic room.

  Thea’s sitting with her arm around Jamie, who is crying softly.

  ‘I couldn’t get him to move,’ she says to Bryn. ‘Hi guys.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ asks Paul, stepping over the lump on the floor.

  ‘He found this,’ says Bryn, kicking the suitcase open.

  Paul and Anne look inside. They see what Bryn has already seen: a single key, a knife, a syringe, a mask, three dildos, a blindfold and a sewing kit.

  ‘What is all this?’ asks Anne.

  Paul stares at the items. ‘No way,’ he says eventually.

  ‘Do you see?’ says Bryn.

  Paul nods slowly. ‘I feel a bit sick,’ he says, holding his stomach.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ says Anne. ‘What is all this stuff for?’

  ‘The spider was part of it,’ prompts Bryn. ‘Just not in the suitcase.’

  Thea passes the folder over to Bryn. ‘Show her this,’ she says.

  Anne takes the folder and starts reading.

  ‘I’d look at the greatest fears section of the application forms if I were you,’ says Paul. He looks at Bryn. ‘That’s right, isn’t it? These are supposed to represent our greatest fears?’

  ‘Yeah, mate,’ says Bryn. ‘That’s exactly right.’

  ‘Rather more than just represent, I think,’ says Thea.

  ‘He was going to rape her,’ sobs Jamie. ‘And lock Paul up, and . . . and . . .’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ says Anne, realising. ‘This is disgusting.’

  ‘And look what else we found,’ says Thea.

  She hands Anne a sheet of card. Bryn’s already seen this. It’s a floor plan of the six bedrooms with a key se
llotaped to each room.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ says Anne. ‘This gets worse.’

  ‘We can’t tell Emily,’ says Bryn. ‘She’ll freak.’

  ‘He definitely put most thought into hers,’ says Thea. ‘Mask, dildos, blindfold.’

  ‘The blindfold’s for me, though,’ says Anne. ‘I said I was scared of going blind.’

  ‘But you lied, though, right?’ says Paul.

  ‘Well, it was just something to put,’ she says.

  She looks even paler than usual, and slightly green.

  ‘What’s the sewing kit for, then?’ asks Thea.

  ‘And the knife,’ says Paul.

  ‘The knife could have been part of the rape thing,’ says Bryn.

  ‘It was to kill me,’ says Jamie. ‘I’m scared of death, remember.’

  He’s stopped crying, but his eyes are red and puffy.

  ‘Maybe the sewing kit’s just for sewing,’ says Paul, but no one looks convinced.

  ‘I’m fucking glad he’s dead,’ says Bryn.

  This time he can’t suppress the urge to kick the body, so he does.

  ‘Stop it,’ says Anne quietly.

  ‘No, kick it hard,’ says Jamie. ‘Fucking cunt,’ he shouts at the dead man.

  ‘We’re not like him,’ says Anne softly. ‘Come on. Let’s just go.’

  ‘What are we going to say to Emily?’ asks Paul.

  ‘Nothing,’ says Anne. ‘We can’t tell her. Bryn’s right.’

  ‘Are you all right to go downstairs?’ Thea asks Jamie.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘We all want to go home,’ says Thea. ‘But you’ve got to be brave.’

  ‘Can’t we just tell Emily?’ says Paul.

  ‘No way,’ says Jamie.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Bryn. ‘Her fear is the worst one. We can’t let her see this stuff.’

  ‘I find her fear scarier than mine, seeing it like this,’ says Thea.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Anne. ‘I don’t find the syringe scary, or the key, or the spider . . . But these other things are so horrible. And the fact that he was going to lock us in our rooms . . .’

  ‘Which room is the single key for?’ asks Paul. ‘I wonder where I was going to be imprisoned. I wonder why my bedroom wasn’t enough.’

  He picks up the key and puts it in his pocket.

  ‘We’d better go down for lunch,’ Bryn says.

  ‘Not a word to Emily,’ warns Thea.

  ‘Agreed,’ says Paul.

  Everyone else nods.

  ‘I’m not going to be able to eat anything’ says Anne.

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ says Jamie.

  ‘Come on,’ says Thea. ‘Let’s go.’

  Emily’s sitting by herself at the table. In front of her is a plate of pasta and tomato sauce. Everyone else’s plates are untouched. ‘Sorry,’ says Paul.

  They sit down. No one says anything.

  ‘It’s got cold,’ says Emily. It looks like she’s been crying again.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asks Anne.

  ‘Me? I’m fine, silly,’ she says sadly. ‘I just wish your lunches hadn’t got cold.’

  No one’s touched their food yet. Bryn tastes some.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ he says, looking like he’s going to be sick.

  ‘Mmm,’ says Thea. ‘Just right.’

  ‘Yum,’ says Anne, forgetting to taste any at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘So. Escape,’ says Emily, once everyone’s tucking in to their lunch.

  ‘We need to know where we are,’ says Jamie blankly.

  ‘We’re in the UK somewhere,’ says Paul.

  Has someone given this lot tranquillisers or something? They’re all acting weird. Emily’s not sure what’s going on.

  ‘We do need to know more specifically, though,’ says Thea tiredly.

  ‘Anne can research that,’ says Emily. ‘And then check the tides.’

  ‘I’ll try to cut a path down the cliff,’ says Thea, looking at her plate.

  ‘Will you be all right doing that?’ asks Bryn.

  ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? There’s a scythe around the back.’

  ‘Maybe Death left it there,’ mutters Anne.

  ‘Paul can design the boat,’ says Emily.

  ‘No, Jamie can do that bit,’ Paul says. ‘I’m shit at boats.’

  Jamie’s eyes look all red. Maybe he’s got hayfever.

  ‘OK,’ he agrees, smiling weakly. ‘I’ll have a go.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Thea asks Paul.

  ‘Design the motor, of course.’

  ‘We don’t need a motor, do we?’ says Emily. ‘Can’t we just have oars?’

  ‘Have you ever rowed a boat?’ says Paul. ‘Anyway, it’ll be fun.’

  ‘This is real, you know,’ says Emily sternly.

  ‘So?’ he says.

  ‘I don’t think you understand. This isn’t a game.’

  There’s silence for a few moments.

  ‘We all know that, Emily,’ says Thea eventually.

  ‘What about me?’ asks Bryn quickly. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Um . . .’ says Emily.

  ‘Materials research,’ says Jamie.

  ‘And buoyancy,’ adds Paul.

  ‘For the boat?’ asks Bryn.

  ‘Of course for the boat,’ says Emily. ‘God.’

  ‘What are you going to do, Emily?’ asks Jamie.

  ‘She’s going to pack the sandwiches,’ jokes Bryn.

  ‘I’ll help Jamie,’ she says, hitting Bryn on the leg playfully.

  Thea glares at Emily. Emily doesn’t know why. What’s she done wrong now?

  Emily can feel something beginning to happen. Last night everyone was friends but now there’s some tension creeping back in. Maybe the friends thing was a bit optimistic. As Thea pointed out early on, they haven’t got much in common. Except, Emily thinks, they have got loads of things in common. Much more than you would have thought. And they all discovered that dead guy, which should have made them bond even more. Maybe everyone’s just tense about escaping. Everyone was fine this morning, so that’s probably it. She gets the feeling that perhaps everyone’s being funny around her because of last night, because they’re worried about another psychotic episode. She wishes they’d all just chill out.

  ‘Why are we doing this outside?’ Emily asks Jamie.

  The sky is still dark grey, and spots of rain are falling on Emily’s cheeks.

  ‘Because we can see all the sources of wood,’ he says. ‘It’ll help us plan.’

  ‘Oh. I thought Bryn was doing materials research?’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s looking at furniture.’

  ‘Why can’t we look at the furniture too, then?’

  ‘Because I wanted to clear my head. I thought you would too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I thought you’d want to clear your head.’

  ‘Why? There’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Emily’s fucked off with everyone saying things like this today.

  ‘Why?’ she says. ‘God, I have one moment of weirdness and you all think I’m, like, totally cuckoo or something.’

  ‘We’re just trying to be nice. We are your friends . . .’

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘Just stop treating me like I’m mental.’

  ‘Sorry,’ says Jamie.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, giggling. ‘Who do you think is most likely to drown first?’

  Jamie doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Jamie?’ she says, after he’s just stood there for a couple of minutes.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ he says.

  She puts on her smallest girly voice. ‘I was only joking.’

  He won’t look at her.

  ‘Jamie?’

  She touches his shoulder, but he shrugs her off.

  ‘You’re not crying are you?’

  He looks up. There are tears in his
eyes.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ he says.

  ‘What’s wrong? It was only a joke, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Everything’s gone wrong,’ he says. ‘You don’t even know how fucked up everything is. You’ve got no idea. It’s all gone wrong.’

  ‘It was only a dead body,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’

  Still crying, Jamie gets up and goes inside.

  Emily’s been thinking a lot about drowning this afternoon. It makes her laugh, the idea of drowning. She’s not sure why, because it scares her more than anything else. Well, anything except rape and torture. She remembers someone saying that death is the worst think that can happen to you. How stupid is that? Being tortured would be worse than being killed. But on the general pain/death-ometer, drowning would be pretty bad. She imagines her lungs filling with water; that time when you’re drowning when you are actually breathing water in and out, like an artificial lung.

  Her piece of paper is blank. Suddenly inspired, she draws a comic-book boat, a sort of floating banana on a wavy-line wave, with a stick-and-triangle mast. Then, not really knowing why, she draws the remains of five stick people in the water, with air bubbles above them to show that they’re drowning. The one person left in the boat is just watching, but if you look carefully you can see that she is about to throw herself overboard as well.

  Chapter Thirty

  Paul’s washing up again, trying to sort out the kitchen after lunch.

  He doesn’t see Jamie coming in, but he hears him muttering something.

  ‘What?’ he says.

  ‘Nothing,’ says Jamie. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He sits down at the table and puts his head in his hands. His hair’s wet from the rain.

  ‘What is it?’ asks Paul.

  ‘Maybe we should tell Emily,’ says Jamie.