by M. A. Hunter
Natalie didn’t share the smirk, but took a deep breath to calm herself down.
They both started as the doors to the hut opened, maybe both expecting to see a half-dead Sally emerge – that or DC Rimmington ready to haul them away for what they’d done. Both sighed with relief as they spotted the freshly shaved chin of their drama tutor Corporal Pete Havvard, the son of the lieutenant-colonel.
‘I came as soon as I heard the news,’ he said, hurrying over to the two of them and hugging each in turn. ‘How are you both?’
‘Holding up,’ Louise replied first, rubbing her shoulder up against his green, woollen sweater, until he wrapped his arm around her again, holding her.
Natalie wanted to slap her for using Sally’s disappearance to make her move on Pete. He’d been strictly off limits for all four of them; they’d sworn a pact at the start of the year that none of them would try to win his heart, as it wouldn’t be fair on the others. Even now though, Natalie could smell the scent of his cologne and wanted to be as close to him as Louise was. Presumably, in Louise’s eyes, the earlier promise was now off with Sally out of the picture.
‘They sent us home from school early,’ Louise continued, making puppy dog eyes at him. ‘Poor Natalie here fainted when she heard the news.’
If Pete hadn’t been there, Natalie was certain she would have slapped Louise for that comment. It was typical of her to make Natalie look like the weakest link.
‘Gosh, are you okay?’ Pete asked, and Natalie revelled in his concern as Louise silently squirmed at the backfiring of her plan.
‘I bumped my head, but the doctors said any concussion would be minor.’
Pete’s emerald eyes matched his jumper so well, and the buzz cut to his naturally dark locks complemented his chiselled cheek bones and well-groomed torso. He was a walking, talking action figure so it was no wonder all the girls on the base swooned whenever he passed. Not that he’d ever been anything but professional and gentlemanly – having the lieutenant-colonel for a father meant he had to live above and beyond the minimum expectations, and he did so with aplomb.
‘If either of you ever need to talk about… stuff, I’m a really good listener. Yeah? I can’t even begin to imagine how worried you both are about Sally, but I’m sure we’ll find her and bring her back safe and sound. Knowing what this place is like, no stone will be left unturned.’
Natalie shuddered at the thought of the stones being lifted in the woods, and the truth of their crime being unveiled. If they’d stuck to the original plan, maintaining that none of them had snuck to the woods, they wouldn’t now be under the suspicion of DC Rimmington and Sally’s parents. Only time would tell if they would all live to regret Louise’s recklessness.
Natalie’s eyes widened as she remembered her mum in the shower. ‘I need to go. Are you coming, Louise?’
Louise didn’t move. ‘Actually, I could do with talking through my feelings with someone, if you can spare a few minutes, Pete?’
‘I don’t mind talking to you, Lou,’ Natalie tried, but her friend didn’t even look round to acknowledge the offer.
‘You run along, Nat. Don’t want your parents telling you off for staying out past your bedtime.’
It was another dig that Natalie couldn’t respond to without sounding even more childish. Giving them one final look as Pete lifted down two chairs from the tall stack in the corner, Natalie could only hope that he rebuffed Louise’s advances and stayed true to his professionalism.
Chapter Seventeen
Now
Kings Cross, London
My eyes haven’t left the lid of the box since Daggard first drew my attention to it. So that’s why he contacted Jack to get me here this morning.
‘When we met yesterday,’ Daggard says, his voice still calm yet somehow graver now, ‘you told me you’d never met Natalie Sullivan prior to the encounter on the roof.’
‘I hadn’t,’ I say, a little too defensively. ‘I swear to you, I had no idea who she was until that inspector turned up and used her name for the first time.’
‘Well, it would appear she knew who you were. How else can you explain the box with your name on it?’
In truth, I can’t, and that’s what troubles me the most. She can’t have known we would run into each other on that roof. The only people who knew I was coming to visit Maddie were Rachel, Jack, Maddie and Maddie’s assistant. I didn’t share on social media that I was going to be in London for the night, nor did I check in when I arrived at Maddie’s office. I don’t want to consider the possibility that Natalie somehow hacked through Maddie’s security walls and caught sight of her calendar, but even if she did, she couldn’t have known Maddie would come up onto the roof to try and talk her down… nor that I would tag along.
‘Maybe someone left the box here after Natalie jumped,’ I suggest, as the only logical explanation. ‘Like an accomplice or something?’
Daggard shakes his head. ‘I’ve checked the security footage for this floor and nobody entered Natalie’s room from the moment she left on Friday morning to my arrival here last night.’
I don’t like how the pig’s head is still staring at me, watching my every move. It feels like it’s laughing at me, knowing all the secrets but not willing to give any of them up, even in death.
‘Maybe it was only a coincidence that she happened to see you on the roof, having left this box for you,’ Jack tries, now back inside the room and following the links between some of the red strings, but steering clear of the pig’s head.
It’s the most logical theory we have for now, but why leave a box for me at all? What would make her think I’d have any interest in following up on Sally’s disappearance? There must be hundreds of other Emma Hunters in the UK, so leaving a box here with my name on was no guarantee I’d get to see it.
‘You’re certain that the two of you never met before?’ Daggard tries again. ‘She was working in the same building as your agent, so is it not possible you could have passed on the stairs or in a lift?’
I asked myself the same question right after she’d jumped but I still didn’t recognise her face. ‘I’m certain,’ I conclude.
‘All of this must have taken months to piece together,’ Jack says, drawing our attention back to the maze of string in the room. ‘It’s like a cat’s cradle, and without knowing where it begins or what she was searching for, it’s like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle without the final image on the box.’
You need to find her. Find Sally. Tell her I’m sorry.
‘Maybe she was looking for Sally,’ I suggest. ‘Those were her final words to me, so maybe that’s what she’d been doing, and had given up hope. I suppose it’s not unreasonable to hope that the police would come here after she’d jumped and would link me to Maddie, and therefore to this box. It relies on dozens of ifs, buts and maybes, but it certainly beats the alternative.’
‘Which is?’ Jack asks, raising his eyebrows.
‘That she came back from the dead and wrote my name on the box afterwards.’ I almost laugh as the words tumble from my mouth, but as Daggard’s torch catches the pig’s eyes again, I’d be willing to believe almost anything right now.
I look back to the cardboard box. ‘Hey, it’s open.’
‘We had to be sure it wasn’t a bomb, or something sinister,’ Daggard explains, his face cloaked in regret. ‘To be honest, I’d thought it might be the rest of Porky Pig up there, but it’s just some books and other bits and pieces. Go ahead,’ he encourages, ‘take a look.’
I don’t move. Part of me doesn’t want to know what a woman going to her death chose to leave for me, a perfect stranger.
Jack is poised and ready so I nod for him to lift the flaps and take a look. Daggard remains by the door, shining his torch beams down on the box as Jack begins to remove each book in turn, holding it into the light and reading the title.
‘The Secrets of Wicca,’ he says of the first one, a hardback with no dust cover, resembling the order of se
rvice books I used to see at church. ‘Wicca and its Pagan Origins,’ he says of the next, this time pausing and opening the inside cover to skim-read the blurb. His eyes widen as he meets my gaze. ‘Maybe you should be the one…’ His words trail off as I shake my head.
‘Very well,’ he continues, ‘the next four, five… no, six books all appear to be journals or diaries belonging to Natalie. There’s a couple of books on someone called Gerald Gardner, and one on a woman called Sybil Leek. Those names mean anything to you?’
I shake my head. ‘Should they?’
Jack studies the blurbs of both books before meeting my gaze again. ‘Well, Gerald here,’ he says, waggling the book in his left hand, ‘was the founder of the pagan religion Gardnerian Wicca, whilst Sybil Leek was a practising witch living in Burley on the edge of Hampshire’s New Forest in the 1950s. She had a shop there and everything.’ He takes a deep breath, ‘Jesus! What have we stumbled into?’
The air in the corridor suddenly tastes as dry as it had in the room, and all I know is that I need to get outside as quickly as possible. I don’t hesitate to explain my actions, turning and sprinting to the end of the corridor, down both flights of stairs, through the main doors, and back into the pollution-filled air of Central London. I am sucking in lungfuls of air when Jack appears at my side.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, concern etched across his goofy features.
I’m not even sure where to begin answering that question. ‘I–I–I don’t know. I just had to get out. Sorry.’
‘Forget about it,’ Jack says, anxiety hanging from his attempted smile. ‘It’s a lot to take in. I nearly threw up when I first saw the pig’s head. Had Daggard not been there, I probably would have.’
‘I don’t understand what it is she’s expecting of me. I didn’t even realise witchcraft was still a thing. It’s the stuff in children’s stories, and horrific tales of witch-hunts from the seventeenth century.’
My head is spinning. Witches to me are old women dressed in black with pointy hats, sooty cats, broomsticks and cauldrons. They’re fantastical characters in books and television shows I’ve watched down the years, but they are firmly not set in the real world.
I still feel lightheaded as I try and straighten. ‘What are we saying? Natalie Sullivan was a witch? If so, for how long? Was it just a recent thing she’d taken up in her desperation to locate her missing friend, or…?’
I can’t complete the thought aloud.
Those woods… it’s been troubling me since I first read about how Sally Curtis disappeared. Rachel even mentioned it yesterday afternoon. What were the girls really doing in those woods at such a late hour?
Is it really possible that three fourteen-year-olds and one thirteen-year-old went into those woods to cast spells and perform rituals? It sounds ludicrous to even think about it, but that’s what the scene in her room in the hostel is suggesting.
‘This is uncharted territory even for you,’ Jack comments, and I don’t think he’s ever spoken a truer word.
Daggard appears at the entrance carrying the large cardboard box. ‘I’ve requested the room to be photographed for posterity,’ he explains, ‘but as far as Natalie’s suicide goes, the body is set to be released back to the family, ahead of cremation in the next day or so. I thought you might want to take this with you, seeing as it was addressed to you. Of course, if you do come across anything incriminating about what happened to that other girl – that Sally Curtis – I’d urge you to contact your local police force and report it. Okay?’
Jack accepts the box and agrees to carry it back to his car. Once it’s in the boot he asks, ‘Where do you go from here?’
‘I guess I should read through some of this stuff,’ I tell him. ‘Though given how close the Bovington Garrison is to home, it probably makes more sense for me to return to Weymouth. The last thing Rachel needs is me getting under her feet.’
‘Well, if you get stuck, or just want a sounding board, you know where I am.’
I thank him as we get back into the car. I really don’t know what I would have done without him here today. Despite the craziness of what we just witnessed, his cool head made it more bearable.
‘Are you sure you’re okay? You’re pale as a bedsheet.’
I try and offer a more reassuring smile. ‘Just not used to dealing with the supernatural, that’s all.’
His eyes meet mine, and the atmosphere is electric. He opens his mouth to say something but my ringing phone cuts him off.
I’m tempted to ignore the call but then I see Rachel’s name in the display and I cave. I start as I hear her sobbing.
‘Em, I n–n–need you to come home.’
Chapter Eighteen
Now
Ealing, London
I was unable to get much else out of Rachel, as her attempts at speaking became lost in her painful sobs. She’s never been one for dramatising so I’m already fearing the worst as Jack drops me outside her flat.
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ he asks, his anxiety reflecting my own.
I look out of the window and see Rachel appear at the window. Even from here I can see her eyes are red raw and it doesn’t look as though her life is any danger. Remembering the dinner she was due to have last night with Daniella and her parents, I fear the worst.
I turn back to Jack, and manage something resembling a reassuring smile. ‘I’ve got this, but thanks for the lift back.’
The tension in his cheeks eases. ‘Okay, but call me if you need anything. Anything.’
I try the smile again, grateful to have him so close, before exiting the car with the box of books and hurrying up the steps and through the communal entrance to Rachel’s building. As soon as I’m in the door, she’s on me, burying her head in my shoulder.
‘D–D–Daniella… l–l–left me.’
All I can do is set down the box, embrace her and let the torrent of her tears blot into my t-shirt. Her fists are clenched behind my back, as if not knowing whether to be mad or to give up hope all together. She is silently screaming, suffocating with each breath she takes, holding onto her pride. I know there is nothing I can say to ease her trauma in this moment; I also know she doesn’t want to hear words, not yet.
I hold her until I hear the sobs start to ease, and this is the moment I suggest she move to the sofa while I put on the kettle. She nods and moves towards the lounge part of the open-plan room. Heading into the kitchen area, I spot the open bottle of wine on the counter and quickly transfer it back to the fridge before filling the kettle. When the tea is made, I carry the mugs over and join Rachel on the sofa.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ I say, offering her my hand.
She pulls a tissue from the sleeve of her mustard-coloured woollen jumper, and dabs her eyes with it. ‘Sh–sh–she said it was because sh–she’s mega busy with work, but I know it’s because of how my parents were at dinner last night.’
I’d assumed the meal had been a success because she’d stayed over at Daniella’s hotel, but of course there could have been a different reason Rachel hadn’t come home.
‘Dad started it all off when he asked Daniella how long she’d been a lesbian for, like it’s some decision she made one morning. They just don’t get it. I felt so embarrassed as they wheeled out one idiotic question after another. He followed it up with, I suppose there must be lots of you in your industry. What the hell is that supposed to mean? The fact that she is a fashion model and a lesbian are coincidental, for pity’s sake! One did not cause the other.’
I can hear her dad’s voice in those words and find myself cringing for Rachel’s sake. ‘I’m so sorry, Rachel. What did Daniella say?’
There is a momentary glint of a smile but it’s quickly replaced by sorrow again. ‘She was dignified and didn’t show any trace of anger. I have no idea how she stayed so calm. She held my hand beneath the table the entire time and if she hadn’t been with me, I think I would have laid into Dad and told him exactly what I t
hought of his bullshit. Daniella stayed composed and tried to explain that she’d always known deep-down who she was and had tackled her confusion head-on. She tried to educate him but he wasn’t listening, not really.’
‘And your mum?’
‘She was no better! She’d quickly try and change the subject whenever the waiter was passing, as if we were talking about something so steeped in shame that we’d be lynched on the way out of the restaurant. And to make matters worse, when Daniella told them she was vegan, Mum launched into a tirade about how eating meat and dairy had never done our ancestors any harm, and how the world had gone bonkers if it thought switching to a plant-based diet would save the planet. It was like we’d stepped back in time! Suffice to say, we made it through the main meal but excused ourselves before dessert. I then spent the rest of the evening grovelling to Daniella and trying to convince her that I don’t share my parents’ petty-minded ignorance.’
‘I’m so sorry, Rach. I’m sure they’ll come around. In fact, I bet after a good night’s sleep they’ll both realise how silly they are being, and beg you for forgiveness.’
She shakes her head slowly. ‘I think you give them way too much credit. Last night was a real eye-opener for me. I’d almost convinced myself that I was the one being silly to be scared about coming out to them, but clearly my fears were warranted.’
‘But you’ve told them now; you must be a little relieved to have it out in the open, to no longer have to hide who you are.’
She dabs her eyes again. ‘Quite frankly, after last night, I don’t think I ever want to see either of them again.’ Her words are laced with bitterness and disappointment, and whilst she might think she means them, I can see how much hurt it is causing her to even contemplate it.
‘Daniella was so quiet when we got back to her room. She said it wasn’t my fault that the evening had been ruined. We stayed together, but we both tossed and turned most of the night, and then at dawn she told me she thought it best if we take some time apart to consider things. I told her I didn’t need any time, that I’m in love with her, and that I don’t care what anyone else thinks, but she told me she didn’t know that she felt the same way about me…’ Her words trail off as her eyes shine once more.