Bad Friends

by Seeber, Claire

  ‘Yes, punish you, you stupid cow. For interfering.’ He turned round again, staring at me like I was a stranger in his home.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I whispered urgently. ‘Interfering with what?’

  ‘And then – then there was just something about you.’ He was lost in his own reverie now. In the candlelight his dark eyes looked demonic. ‘But in the end you’re all the same. You tricked me, Maggie.’

  ‘You’ve lost me now, Sebastian,’ I pleaded, suppressing my terror almost physically, trying to shove it down. ‘I thought things were good between us, honestly. I never meant to – to trick you in any way, I swear.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ he sneered. ‘My mother warned me about women like you. If things were so good, why didn’t you want to see me this weekend?’

  I cast around frantically for something to bring him down a little, to bring him back to now.

  ‘Digby’ll be so pleased to see you,’ I said stupidly, and God I tried so hard to smile. ‘We both are, honestly. I’m really glad you’re here now. I was missing you.’

  He stared at me blankly. ‘He wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t pleased at all, the little shit.’

  His tone was utterly unnerving. I stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ I whispered, my voice cracking in the darkness.

  He smiled and it was a mad smile; a truly mad and malicious smile. My phone chirped then, and my fingers almost went to my pocket – but I just stopped myself in time.

  ‘Give me that,’ he demanded, holding out his hand.

  I played dumb. ‘Sorry – what?’

  ‘The phone, you stupid bitch. I heard it beep. Give it to me.’

  How could I have got it so terribly wrong? How could I have considered actually falling in love with this monster that stood before me? The candles flickered and danced above us on the ceiling as I pointed into the dark depths of the room.

  ‘It’s over there.’ I indicated the table piled up with cookbooks and photos and old folders of recipes my mother and Gar had collected. ‘I put it on to charge.’

  Frowning, he went to check. I made a lunge for the poker lying discarded against the fireguard and I thought about whacking him then but I chose escape instead. I ran for it like a woman possessed. Down the hall, into the kitchen – the back door was open still – out into the night again. Seb was behind me already; I could sense him closing on me although I pushed myself fast, but he was taller, fitter, stronger, and he brought me down in a rugby tackle that knocked every bit of wind from my lungs. The poker went skidding across the grass.

  ‘Oh God,’ I moaned in anguish, ‘my ankle.’

  And before I could even try to move he was over me now, grinning under the white haze of the moon, and I lashed out at him, catching his lip with my fingernails so that he slapped me across the face so hard I thought he’d broken my nose.

  ‘You ungrateful bitch. Didn’t you like all the attention? I thought you were enjoying it.’ He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and sat astride me, pinning my arms to the ground. ‘You liked being on that TV programme, didn’t you? I saw your smug little face. That’s why I sent you the flowers; to congratulate you for fucking everything up. You liked telling everyone what to do, didn’t you? Messing with our lives.’

  With a massive surge of adrenaline, I realised I had to fight or die here, here on the lawn of my grandmother’s cottage, here where I’d played so happily as a child. I remembered the lilies, the graffiti, the text messages, the sheer petrifying fear, and I summoned every ounce of hatred I’d felt for the mysterious person trying to terrify me so and I propelled it into the knee that I brought up with all my might into Seb’s groin.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ he bellowed, toppling off me in surprised agony. ‘You fucking whore.’

  Up and running now, I didn’t hang around to commiserate – only this time my ankle was throbbing like it had in the hospital after the crash and I knew I didn’t have long before it gave way for good.

  I’d head back towards the pub; it was the only place I’d definitely find help. Seb was still grunting in pain somewhere behind me on the lawn and I ran like I used to run when I loved life; when I was twelve and really good; when both my parents were still on the side of the school track. ‘Run, Mag,’ I heard a whispering sigh through the tall dark trees. ‘Run for your life, Maggie. Don’t stop now.’

  I was panting, gasping for breath as I came beside Seb’s car. He’d left the door open in his haste to get to me, and as I passed I glanced in and oh my God the keys were actually in the ignition. I didn’t look back, I climbed inside and I turned the key and the engine fired –

  Feet crunched on the gravel, nearer, nearer …

  ‘Oh come on, Mag –’ I fumbled with the unfamiliar gearstick, slamming it into reverse by mistake. I heard his curse and I prayed I’d run him over. And then the car was moving forward and I was trying to slam the door, but he’d wrenched it open again, and then I heard a muffled yelp and Seb was leaning over me grappling with the steering wheel, but we were still moving, faster now, and I realised it was my heroic dog on the back seat, sinking his teeth into Sebastian’s arm.

  ‘You little fucker,’ Seb spat, and I almost laughed but Digby’s head was wet and shiny as I looked down, and I realised it was blood, my little dog’s blood, and then Seb swung him out of the car in one smooth action, and before I could move, before I could stop him, he twisted Digby around, and the brave dog snarled with all his broken might but he was badly hurt already, he didn’t stand a chance. Before I could stop him, Seb threw the dog against the tree right there with all his force. With a sigh and a small whimper, my scruffy little dog slumped down the trunk into the undergrowth.

  ‘No,’ I screamed, too late. ‘Noooo!’ I looked up at Seb, still looming over me. ‘You fucking nutter,’ I hissed. ‘What did he ever do to you?’

  ‘I should have done it ages ago,’ Seb grinned, and, reaching down into the bushes, he retrieved Digby’s limp form and flung him callously onto the drive.

  For a second I’d been frozen with horror, but now I came to. ‘You’re mad,’ I yelled, tears of fury flooding down my face, ‘absolutely fucking mad’, and I revved the engine, backed the car up. I would get him now, the crazy bastard. I put my foot down and I drove at Seb fast; I floored the car and I couldn’t see anything any more, just red, just anger at this man who had ruined my life for a reason I didn’t understand. And I nearly got him, I nearly did, but he threw himself out of the way just in time, and then there was the old chestnut tree right in front of me and that was it; it was too late to brake – and then it all went black.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Stevie Nicks was singing mournfully about players only loving you when they’re playing as I came round. My head felt like it might actually split in two, and I was lying half in, half out of Seb’s car, my own blood running into my mouth, and Seb was pulling me onto the ground, grunting with exertion. And I knew I’d blown it; I’d had my last chance to escape.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I mumbled, and I was in real pain; my lips were cracked and my voice was tiny. Seb didn’t answer, just stared at me like he couldn’t focus and switched the radio off before stepping away to retrieve something.

  And then I saw he had a can of petrol from the boot, and he reached forward and delved in my jeans pocket and I flinched from his touch.

  ‘Dirty habit, smoking,’ he said, eventually finding a lighter in my cardigan pocket. ‘You should’ve known it’d kill you in the end.’

  I watched horrified and literally unable to move as he splashed petrol around the car.

  ‘They’ll think it was a terrible accident,’ he said. ‘Poor Maggie. Such a tragedy. So much promise, blah, blah, blah. Such a manipulative bitch, blah, blah, blah. You really were the original gilded lily, weren’t you?’ He smiled at his own wit.

  ‘Please, Seb,’ I implored desperately. ‘Please don’t do this.’

  ‘Shut up,’ he snapped, concentra
ting on the task in hand. ‘It’s too late, Maggie. Too late for you, anyway.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ I pleaded piteously. ‘What did I ever do to you, Seb? I don’t understand, I really don’t.’

  ‘You should have left us alone. We were happy, you know. Until you came along.’

  ‘Who?’ I croaked. ‘Who’s we, for God’s sake?’

  ‘The only positive thing I can say about you is’, he glanced at me, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes with his forearm, ‘at least you weren’t a bad shag. When you weren’t too pissed, that is, Maggie-may-I, Maggie-yes-you-may, Maggie-I’ll-just-roll-over-and-let-you-do-whatever-you-want.’ He threw the empty petrol can aside and lit the lighter. I stared transfixed at the flame. ‘Nice knowing you, bitch,’ he said. ‘Ta-ta for now.’

  And then someone blew that flame right out.

  ‘That’s not very original now, is it, mate,’ a familiar voice scolded from the gloom. ‘I think Hannibal Lecter might have said it first.’ The next moment a bewildered Seb lay crumpled on the ground as Alex emerged from the shadows, looking a little surprised himself, the poker in his hand.

  ‘Blimey. That packs a punch.’ He shoved Seb with a mud-flecked boot. ‘I hope the bastard’s still breathing. I don’t fancy doing time for him, you know.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I gazed up at him in bemusement. ‘Have you come to punish me too?’ I croaked, before passing out.

  They landed the air ambulance in Peter Trevenna’s field to take me to Truro hospital. I remembered very little about the whole thing except feeling terribly sick, which was, they later told me, the concussion I’d sustained when the car hit the tree. I vaguely recalled Alex being in the helicopter too – I thought he might have even stroked my hair, but when I woke up the next morning in the hospital, it was my father and Jenny beside my bed.

  ‘Maggie –’ my dad leaned forward to kiss my bandaged forehead, ‘thank God!’

  ‘Hello, darling,’ said a beaming Jenny, her usually immaculate hair hidden under a scarf. ‘I’ll go and get some coffee, shall I?’ She vanished down the ward with a tactful swoop of her poncho-type affair.

  ‘We must stop meeting like this,’ I joked feebly, and my father gave my hand a little squeeze. He looked grey and exhausted and old, and I felt the eternal twinge of guilt.

  ‘I really would like to know what’s been going on,’ he said weakly, and I thought he was trying not to cry.

  I remembered the utter hatred in Seb’s eyes the previous night and the venom with which he spat my name out. With a huge shudder, I thought of being in bed with him the first time we’d been to Pendarlin – the other time. And then I saw Digby’s small body as Seb flung him at the tree, and my eyes began to fill.

  ‘I don’t suppose –’ I gulped hard. ‘Digby, he –’

  My father squeezed my hand again. ‘I’m so sorry, Mag. He’s – well, Alex found him when he went back last night, poor little chap. Alex has, you know, taken care of things.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I stared at my father, tears brimming now. ‘I don’t understand any of it, Dad. I don’t know what I did to Seb, I really, really don’t. He was just so – so bloody mad last night.’

  A dough-faced nurse plodded up to the bed. ‘Morning there, my lover.’ She popped a digital thermometer into my ear cheerily. ‘And how are you doing this lovely day? Bit sore, my sweet?’ Turning to read the display, the morning sunlight caught the fine hairs of her bleached moustache. I smiled feebly at her and wiped my eyes.

  My father cleared his throat tentatively. ‘There’s someone here who’s very keen to see you, Mag.’

  ‘Alex?’ I asked, brightening.

  My father eyed me warily. ‘Not Alex, no. He’s had to get back to Bristol. He sent his love, though.’

  ‘Oh,’ I mumbled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘No, a policeman called Fox has been here since first thing.

  He wants to take a statement as soon as possible, apparently.’

  My father must have noticed my shiver.

  ‘Don’t worry, love.’ He patted my arm, and I noticed how speckled with white his remaining hair was these days. ‘The police will deal with Sebastian, I’m sure. You just concentrate on getting well, all right?’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  As it turned out, though, what I had to concentrate on immediately were all the finer details from the previous night – again. A bedraggled-looking DI Fox was most apologetic about making me go through it all so soon; he even brought me a tepid hot chocolate from the vending machine in the corridor as a sign of goodwill.

  When it came to talking about Alex hitting Seb with the poker, Fox wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, and I understood it was because he hadn’t believed my instinct about Alex. ‘Told you so’s’ seemed pointless, though.

  ‘He’s not saying much, your mate Seb.’

  I scowled at the policeman. ‘He’s hardly my mate, is he?’ I replied tersely. My head was pounding now.

  ‘Granted.’ Fox adjusted his shiny blue tie nervously. Like most of his clothes, it had seen better days. ‘You know what I mean. He’s not very forthcoming, anyway. He’s a very accomplished liar, I’ll give him that.’

  ‘He would be, I suppose,’ I said slowly, ‘he’s an actor, after all.’

  ‘He’s certainly got a few identities going on, and Seb Rae ain’t the real one, that much we do know. But we need to get clearer on his motive, and he’s not playing ball, the bastard.’ Fox looked at me, his nose twitching rather like his namesake’s would. ‘That’s where I really need your help, Maggie.’

  ‘I’m not clear myself.’ I shook my head morosely. ‘I keep thinking of how Seb ranted about the TV show I work on. He always seemed to hate it, actually, the show – even when he was being nice to me. Before he tried to – you know.’ I found I was plucking the bedclothes anxiously with my good hand; I forced myself to stop. ‘It doesn’t make any sense to me.’

  I looked away from Fox, stared out the window for a moment to contain my misery. The hills rolled gently away from the hospital and there was a glimpse of blue between the December clouds. I remembered something my mother used to say about enough blue for a sailor’s trousers, and for a moment I imagined her there, patting my shoulder comfortingly as the night in the Portobello Hotel came back to me – thrashing in the bath, terrified.

  ‘I don’t think it was the first time, you know,’ I said quietly.

  ‘The first time what?’

  ‘The first time he’d wanted to –’ I found it very hard to say the words. ‘To – um, you know. To kill me.’

  A yawning Fox left with assurances to get to the bottom of it all. The hospital said they’d probably discharge me the next day, all being well, and my father and Jenny talked about a nice hotel on the coast near St Ives that they’d heard was lovely. ‘Unless you want to go straight back to Pendarlin?’ my father mumbled with some trepidation.

  I thought miserably of Digby chasing his tail round the lawn. Of Seb glowering at me with such hatred by the fire; of me running for my life out of the back door. ‘In a few days, perhaps,’ I said quietly.

  The moustached nurse arrived back at my bedside. ‘You look wiped out, my sweet, and I need to change the dressing on your head. Come on, Mum and Dad. Our patient needs some rest.’

  I caught the look Jenny shot my father at the nurse’s words, anxious but happy at the same time – the hand she slipped into his. I didn’t bother to correct the mistake.

  * * *

  My dreams were full of barks and screams and a crying Gar sitting in her wicker chair on the lawn of Pendarlin behind a piano that played itself, Debussy’s music soaring into the sky. I woke just after five, sweating and disorientated. Moustache Face had gone off duty, apparently, and in her place was a neat little nurse with cropped hair and a mole like a Jelly Tot on her neck. She smoothed the rumpled bedclothes and poured me a glass of water, helping me to drink it like she would a child.

  ‘You’ve had an awful shock, Mag
gie,’ she said, as I mumbled about being pathetic. ‘It’s going to take a while. You have to give yourself time. The morphine will make you feel odd too.’ She moved the roses beside the bed so she could put the water down. ‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they, you lucky thing. Who are they from?’

  I shook my head as a hundred bunches of unwelcome lilies pirouetted over the bedspread like the hippos in Fantasia. I felt my eyes well up.

  ‘All right there, lovie. Don’t upset yourself.’ She produced a clean white tissue from a box. ‘Is there someone you’d like me to call for you?’

  ‘Not really, thanks.’ I shook my head again, feeling utterly alone. The tears came then, a deluge I thought might never stop.

  I must have dozed off again for a while. I woke with a start; I could hear the inane chirrup of a game-show from the television down the corridor, and then a door closed and all was quiet. I was slipping off to sleep again when footsteps approached down the hall – two sets of them, slightly out of rhythm. I expected them to keep going, but outside my door, they stopped. My heart skipped a beat. What if Seb had convinced Fox he was innocent? He’d obviously mastered the art of persuasion …

  I hoiked myself up in my bed and reached for a weapon, but all that came to hand was the water-jug. My tummy felt like it was being squeezed through an old-fashioned mangle. Then I heard whispering outside, and before I could grab the jug, a little face popped round the door.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I croaked, and in response she smiled, rather timidly for her, I thought afterwards.

  ‘Just come to see if you’re okay, Maggie.’

  And then, from behind Fay, another taller figure appeared. Alex. He stood there with a hand on her shoulder, and he too was smiling rather oddly. Grimacing was a better word, in fact.

  ‘Come in,’ I said rather hysterically, ‘come in and join the party, why don’t you? I can show you my war-wounds if you like.’