by C. L. Taylor
He heads for their old camp first. Where once there were rough timber frames, palm roofs and banana leaf mattresses, now there’s just two piles of wood and scattered greenery. Josh and Jack have trashed the place. Danny grits his teeth, rage burning in the pit of his stomach. Stupid bastards. He never should have run. He should have faced up to them and to hell with the consequences.
He scans the camp looking for any sign of Honor’s sunglasses then spots something glinting in the sand. He crouches down. The glasses are broken: one arm snapped off and one frame smashed. He chucks them back down again.
He takes a steadying breath and forces himself to look at the boat, at the sleeping bag covering their dead guide and the rough soles of Anuman’s bare feet peeking from beneath the tarp.
His feet?
He blinks, frowning as he searches through his brain, trying to work out why his guide’s feet are making him feel so unsettled. A memory flashes back, of Anuman driving the minibus, shouting advice back at them.
‘Don’t go anywhere in bare feet.’
When they’d congregated in the hotel lobby in shorts and flip-flops Jefferson, in his sandy-coloured boots and long beige trousers, was the only one who’d received an approving nod.
Anuman was definitely wearing boots when they’d been cutting wood because he’d told Danny off for wielding an axe wearing flip-flops.
‘What if the axe cuts off your toes?’
‘Then I’ll buy smaller shoes!’
It had raised a laugh from Milo but Anuman had tutted and shaken his head. It was then that Danny had clocked his footwear: boots, old and worn but sturdy as hell.
But there aren’t any boots on Anuman’s feet now, and Danny can’t remember him ever taking them off, apart from to sleep. A dark thought forms in his mind. He’d assumed the boot prints were Jefferson’s and he was responsible for the spiders. But it wasn’t him, he knows that now. Jefferson’s phobia came true when he fell off the cliff edge and there’s no way he could have faked that. Had someone else taken Anuman’s boots off and traipsed around in them to make it look like Jeffers was responsible? But why do that? Unless they were trying to get them to turn against each other, deliberately ripping their already fractured group apart.
Chapter 23
JESSIE
‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ I side-eye Milo as we wade into the sea. Our swimming stuff is back at the clearing, crammed into our rucksacks, so I’m in my bra and knickers while Milo’s wearing knee-length khaki shorts. My stomach feels heavy and bloated from the fruit we’ve just gorged on but I’m buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. ‘It’s a long way to swim and it’s going to be exhausting.’
He flings one tanned arm across his body and holds it there, stretching out his right shoulder. ‘I think you’ll find I’m in pretty good shape for someone who spent the first half of the holiday doing laps of the pool on an inflatable flamingo.’
That makes me snort.
‘Ready?’ I ask.
Milo doesn’t miss a beat. He plunges into the water and starts to swim. I leap in too, relishing the coolness of the water on my skin. After five minutes or so of steady crawl around the perimeter of the island Milo lifts his head and treads water.
‘You OK?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ He grins. ‘Just slowing down for you to catch up.’
‘Catch up? I’ve been swimming alongside you the whole time. I’d be halfway round the island by now if I went at my own pace!’
‘Seriously.’ He presses a hand to his chest. ‘I don’t know how you used to do this for fun. My heart’s on overdrive.’
‘So we take it a bit slower. There’s no hurry, is there?’
‘I guess not.’
We swim in silence for a couple of minutes, the hot sun beating down and the gulls circling and squawking overhead. The island looks beautiful from the sea, the white gold of the sand framed by the emerald green of the trees. Anuman told us the owner rents it out for weddings too. Weird, though, imagining a bride in a white dress holding hands with her smartly dressed husband on the beach instead of a handful of teens in sweat-soaked clothes.
‘Milo?’ I glance at him as he switches from swimming on his back to a lazy breaststroke. Being in the water makes me feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. Braver too. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you miss your girlfriend?’
‘What?’ He shoots me a sideways glance.
‘Bella. Do you miss her?’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
‘Potato potatoe. You haven’t answered my question.’
He stops swimming and turns to look at me, his brown eyes shining in the hot, midday sun. ‘Why are you asking?’
‘No reason.’ I drop my face into the water and break into a crawl, speeding away from him.
Why did I just ask him that? Is that what I’m about now – torturing myself? How did I expect him to answer?
Of course I don’t miss her. I’m in love with you.
I mentally shake myself. It was a stupid thing to ask and I only did it because there’s a part of me that refuses to believe that what happened between us on the beach on day two wasn’t just friendship. A stupid part of me. A very, very stupid part.
I power through the water until I’m too tired to swim another stroke and then I flip onto my back, close my eyes and let the sun warm my face. If there’s another group holiday after this one I’m pretty sure our parents won’t let us out of their sight.
‘Hey! You! Rebecca Adlington!’ Milo’s voice cuts through my water-plugged ears. ‘Are you trying to kill me or what?’
I turn my head, grinning as he splashes towards me – half doggy paddle, half front crawl. He rolls his eyes as he gets closer. ‘Hellooo! We’re not all Olympic swimmers, you know.’
‘Wanna take a break?’ We’re about a quarter of the way round the island and a tiny cove has opened up in the midst of so much jungle.
‘Definitely.’ He sticks out his tongue and pants like a dog. ‘I need a drink. My tongue’s like sandpaper. We should have brought water.’
‘There might be mangos over there.’ I point towards a clump of trees on the edge of the cove.
Milo nods. ‘That’ll do.’
We flop onto the sand, too knackered to drag ourselves into the jungle to look for water or fruit, and stretch out our arms and legs. Neither of us says anything for several minutes, then Milo’s stomach gurgles noisily, making me laugh.
He rolls onto his side to look at me. ‘What’s the first thing you’re going to order back at the hotel?’
‘Massive burger, fries, onion rings and a chocolate milkshake.’
‘You didn’t even have to think about that!’
‘I’ve been fantasizing about food for days.’
‘Me too. I’m going to eat a bowl of Thai green curry the size of my head.’
We lapse into an easy silence again and I dig my fingers into the sand, raking them back and forth.
‘Jessie?’ Milo says.
‘Yeah?’
‘You do think they’ll look for us, don’t you?’
‘Our parents?’
‘Yeah.’
I turn to look at him. ‘What makes you think they won’t?’
‘I’m pretty sure my mum and dad won’t worry until we’re at least a couple of hours late. They’ll have to drive to the harbour and get a boat. What if they can’t find us?’
‘They’ll find us.’
‘You think?’
‘Yeah, course.’ I say the two words quickly before my voice can betray me. The truth is I’m scared too. I haven’t even let myself think about how Mum and Dad will react when they realize that we haven’t returned from our trip. They’ve been through so much already they’ll fear the worst and… I stare out at the sea, focusing on the way the sunlight catches on the water, making it sparkle and glint. I can’t do it. I can’t let myself think about the anguish on my parents’ faces, or t
he fear in their eyes when they’re told I haven’t come back.
‘Good.’ Milo lies back on the sand again and folds his hands under his head. I stare at his side profile for a couple of seconds then turn my face back up to the sun and close my eyes.
‘I’ve been thinking about the phobia thing,’ he says after a beat.
I tense. I still haven’t told him about the snake. ‘What about it?’
‘Danny seems convinced that they’re coming true but it’s a coincidence, isn’t it? We’re on a jungle island, there are loads of spiders everywhere. We probably have dozens of them scuttling over us when we go to sleep.’ I shudder but say nothing.
‘And Jeffers falling off a cliff,’ Milo continues. ‘It was dark and he couldn’t see where he was going because he’d lost his glasses.’
‘There was rustling in the bushes,’ I remind him.
‘We were all hyped to hell last night and jumping at shadows. It was probably an animal.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ I say.
Milo’s brow creases as he tries to read my face.
‘What is it?’ he asks. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
I’m going to have to tell him. Danny’s probably told Honor by now and she’ll tell Meg, who’ll probably ask Jeffers if he saw the snake and then everyone will know apart from Milo.
I sit up and brush the sand off my hands and legs. ‘Another phobia came true.’
‘What?’ Milo sits up too.
‘You weren’t alone in the pit.’
‘What do you mean not alone?’
‘Danny saw a snake.’
His jaw drops and he stares at me with horrified eyes, unable to speak.
‘It was a cobra. But it was OK,’ I add hurriedly, ‘because obviously it didn’t bite you and—’
Milo scrabbles to his feet and heads back towards the water’s edge, his face a fury. ‘And Danny kept quiet about this?’
‘He didn’t want to scare you.’ I put a hand on his arm but he snatches it away. ‘Milo, if he’d said anything you would have freaked out. You wouldn’t have been able to move, never mind get out of the pit.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘We saw you freak out before, remember? That time at the zoo. You wouldn’t go into the reptile enclosure and—’
‘Who else knows? About the snake?’
‘I… just me. Danny said I was the first one he’d told.’
‘Yeah, right.’ He laughs dryly. ‘Everyone knows, don’t they? That’s why no one has said anything because oh no, what if Milo freaks out again? What if he cries?’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I just, I… argggh.’ He presses his hands to his face and inhales noisily through his nose. His whole body is shaking.
‘Milo.’ I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s OK. No one’s going to judge you.’
He lowers his hands from his face and looks at me. ‘Well, you wouldn’t.’
‘I’m scared too, Milo. What if the next phobia that comes true is mine? And I’m not talking about vomiting.’
‘But my phobia is irrational. Yours is understandable…’ He pauses, his gaze flickering towards my hands. ‘You’ve got good reason to be afraid of fire.’
‘Thanks for reminding me.’
‘Jessie.’ Milo clasps one of my hands between his as I try to turn away. ‘I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.’
I shake my head mutely.
‘I know it’s not the same but we miss Tom too. I know he didn’t come on holiday for a few years but… we knew him, we remember him. I can’t… I can’t believe he’s really gone. I’m so, so sorry.’
I can’t speak. My throat is thick with tears. Every word Milo speaks is like a knife in my guts. I don’t want his sympathy. Not when what happened to Tom was my fault.
‘Don’t.’ Milo grabs my hand as my fingers reach for the soft skin of my forearm. ‘Jessie, please don’t hurt yourself. Talk to me.’
‘I can’t, Milo.’ I pull away and scrabble to my feet. ‘I just can’t!’
‘Jessie, wait!’ His voices follows me as I run towards the sea. It fades as I launch myself into the water, then disappears as I swim down, down, down and the sea washes the tears from my cheeks.
Chapter 24
DANNY
There’s no sign of Milo and Jessie on the new beach when Danny swims back round the rocks empty-handed. As he walks out of the sea his mind whirs as he tries to process what he just saw. Did the Brothers Grimm steal Anuman’s boots to frame Jeffers for the spiders? Have they been hiding the whole time? Creeping around in the dark and earwigging conversations? But why grab Jessie? Why not continue to hide and make more phobias come true?
But neither of the boys looked as though they’d been camped out anywhere and Jessie said all they had in their boat were a couple of day packs. It made more sense that they’d been hanging out by the hotel pool, getting more and more pissed off about what Jessie had done and decided to hire a boat to scare the hell out of her. So who did steal Anuman’s boots? Either there’s someone else on the island, or someone in the camp is responsible. But who? And why? The only people whose phobias haven’t come true are him, Meg and Jessie.
So who’s behind it all – Meg or Jessie?
He can’t imagine Meg digging a pit, capturing a snake and luring her brother towards it. Jessie then? Two years ago he wouldn’t have believed it of her but she’s changed. There’s a weird fearlessness she never used to have. Old Jessie would never have driven her chair leg into someone’s hand. But why would she decide to torture her own friends by making all their phobias come true?
Does she think they don’t care about her? Is that why she’s lashing out? He’s pretty sure no one’s asked her about her brother. He was talking to Milo, Meg, Jeffers and Honor about Tom the night before they left for the island, when they were all sitting poolside. They all felt they should say something but no one knew what to say.
I’m sorry. That’s what adults said when someone died, wasn’t it?
I’m sorry.
How the hell would that help? He said sorry half a dozen times a day at school – when he forgot his homework, brushed past someone in the corridor or accidentally stood on someone’s toe. How could those same two words be applied to someone dying? It wasn’t enough. But what was the alternative? I heard you watched your brother die. Holy shit, that’s awful. How do you go on with life after something like that happens to you? But he couldn’t say that either because it was too raw, too brutal, so instead he’d chosen to say nothing at all.
As Danny draws closer to the small patch of shade where Meg and Honor are sitting, fanning themselves with palm leaves, he wrestles with himself. Should he tell them what he suspects about Jessie or should he keep it to himself? Honor senses that she’s being watched and looks up. Her smile fades as she glances at his empty hands.
‘Sorry,’ Danny says. ‘Your sunglasses were broken.’
She shrugs as though to say never mind, then leans over to Meg and whispers something in her ear. Danny turns away, paranoia running hot through his veins. Is she complaining to Meg about him? Telling her what a terrible boyfriend he is and how she’s going to dump him the moment they get back to the hotel?
Danny’s head pounds as he heads for the shore. It’s this island, it’s messing with his head. Honor probably wasn’t even talking about him just then. There are a hundred things she could have whispered in Meg’s ear. Why did he have to assume the worst?
He stops walking and rubs his hands over his face then stares up at the cloudless sky. He’s tired and he’s hungry. No wonder he can’t think straight. He’ll go back to the girls, grab whatever fruit he can cram in his mouth and find somewhere to have a nap. A good nap and he’ll be thinking straighter again.
Yes, that’s what he’ll do. He blinks, the bright sun burning his retinas, and lowers his gaze to the beach. He blinks again.
There’s a message, written in the sand less th
an a foot away from him, on the very edge of the sea.
One of you will die.
Chapter 25
JESSIE
I resurface, my chin clearing the water, then glance back at the beach. Milo’s walking along the sand holding an armful of huge banana leaves. I tread water as he places two leaves on the sand, one vertically, the other crossing it horizontally.
T
He selects three more leaves and puts them next to the first two.
A
I wait for Milo to look out to sea but he doesn’t. He continues to walk across the sand laying leaves down, one after another.
TALK
Arms empty he walks back into the jungle then returns after a few minutes, arms loaded up with banana leaves again. He spells out another word.
TO
He takes a step to his left and lays down more leaves. Only when he’s finished placing the last leaf does he look out to sea.
TALK TO ME.
I stare back at him, my heart twisting in my chest. I don’t know if I can talk to him. I haven’t talked to anyone about what happened last year. Not to Mum and Dad, not to my teachers, not to my friends at school, no one. My parents tried to get me to go and see a counsellor. I made it as far as the chair in her office but, as soon as she tipped her head to one side and asked me how I was feeling, in a voice like warm honey, I was out of the door.
Mum drove me home and I locked myself away in my room. I knew my parents were worried about me but I couldn’t drag myself out of the dark pit in my head. I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted the world to stop so I could get off.
Love wasn’t a good thing, it was the worst thing in the world. If I hadn’t loved Tom as much as I had then I wouldn’t feel as though my heart had been ripped from my body. The answer was to stop caring. To shut myself down emotionally. For ever. I even googled ‘how do you turn off your feelings?’ but I didn’t like the answers. I didn’t want to go on medication or learn to meditate. I didn’t want to dial my feelings down or learn to deal with them. I wanted to stop feeling. Full stop.