The Cry of the Lake

by Charlie Tyler

  I loved Flo’s confidence – the way she carried herself; shoulders back, head held high. It gave the impression she was tall, and it always came as a surprise to me how petite she actually was. Her favourite band, The Cure, was a group no one else our age had ever heard of though she had made them the soundtrack to her life, not remotely embarrassed that the lead singer was older than her Dad. Nothing ever really bothered her or got under her skin. She had remained friends with her Dad’s ex despite the heartbreak they had all been through when they broke up. The public reason for the split was the anti-social hours which went with Annie’s job – Grace had started out as a shoulder to cry on. I didn’t believe that for a minute; it had Grace’s devious handiwork smeared all over it.

  Flo was the best thing that had ever happened to me and luckily, in order for Grace’s plan to work, there had been nothing my sister could do to stop us spending time together. Just then it struck me like a sucker-punch to the stomach – after they found Amelie there would be no more Flo. How would I cope? There was a sudden sharp pain to my shin, and I looked up to see Grace frowning at me. I blinked back my tears and busied myself trying to get the ice out of the bottom of my glass.

  “Time to go,” said Grace.

  Tom and Grace kissed in the courtyard.

  “So, we’ll just walk my bike back and I’ll nip you both home,” Tom said, undoing the lock around the chain.

  “Thank you darling. That would be lovely.”

  ***

  Grace killed the engine and rolled Tom’s car into the clearing.

  The sky was lit by the fattest of moons and the lake was awash with brilliant white light. We waited a few minutes then got out of the car. I was dressed in a dark tracksuit and had tucked my hair into a woollen hat. The air was cold, and my breath made little clouds which floated into the violet sky. Grace opened the boot of Tom’s BMW and we lifted Amelie out. My heart thumped against my ribcage; this was the most dangerous part of the journey; we were no longer hidden by trees.

  There were open fields to my left where the cows were lying in a corner, their hides illuminated so that they resembled a rocky outcrop. Cupid’s Wood stood to the right and I could see the silhouettes of blackening bluebells and taste wild garlic on the tip of my tongue. Grace pointed to the lake. I screwed up my forehead. I had imagined we would be digging a shallow grave underneath the bracken and nettles.

  Grace nodded her head towards the rickety pontoon which stretched out over one edge of the lake. The path leading towards it was lined with long, dewy grass which soaked into the fabric mesh on the tops of my trainers. My damp toes grated against each other and the ache in my arm muscles turned to burning.

  We shuffled along the wooden boards and swung the body into the water. Amelie disappeared under the surface with a gurgle and cascade of bubbles.

  I hung my head and tried to remember the words of the Lord’s Prayer but before I got to forgive us our trespasses Grace had grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me back to the car.

  Just as Grace pulled out of the woods and onto the main road a small dog, a terrier of some sort, ran out in front of us. Grace slammed on the brakes just in time and the creature stopped, turned its head and stared at us, its marble eyes glowing phantom-green in the headlights. Then it wagged its stumpy tail and trotted into the bracken; thankfully there was no owner in sight.

  The moment we were through our backdoor Grace made me strip off. My grass-clumped trainers went into the sink. She took all my clothes, even my underwear, so I was left naked and shivering. I made a dash past Tom, who was out cold on the sofa, and went upstairs into the shower. When I emerged my skin all pink and tingling, Grace was there with a small glass of milk and my pills. My heart fluttered. I had been worried she wasn’t going to let me have them – that for some reason my behaviour this evening hadn’t been up to scratch and that I needed to be punished some more. At least my refuge in sleep was assured. Grace had changed her clothes, but not yet showered. She watched me swallow the tablets and then ushered me into my bed.

  “You did well,” she said, tucking me into the sheets and smoothing back my hair. “Daddy would have been proud of us.”

  I wasn’t convinced. I can’t really remember Daddy at all, but I’m sure no father would be proud of their kids committing murder and chucking the body into a lake.

  She stroked my forehead with the back of her hand.

  Do you think he would have forgiven me by now?

  She sighed. “Maybe. You were young, but…” Here it was again. The familiar ache of wrong-doing spread across my stomach, tying itself into knots as it coiled its way around my body. I closed my eyes. I wanted to recall what I’d said to Tom all those years ago but the broken fragments of what had happened lay hidden at the bottom of a lake, with only one tiny piece of the puzzle revealing itself over and over again in my nightmares. A lake which I was destined never to find.

  “We still have lots to do,” she said, turning off the bedside lamp. She picked Myrtle off my dusty shelf and stroked her hair. Myrtle was my worn mermaid doll with matted, woollen locks and buttons for eyes. A throwback from my childhood. The only throwback from my childhood. “We must sit tight and give nothing away.” She laughed and pushed the toy back in its place. “Well, it’s not as though you are going to blurt anything out, is it?” She was still laughing as she went out of the door.

  Chapter Two

  Flo

  I sucked the froth off my cappuccino and gagged. Like a greedy bitch, I’d poured in far too much hazelnut syrup and the fake sugar made my tongue scratchy. I tipped it down the sink. The café was quiet after a crazy morning but two wrinklies remained, sitting by the window, slurping tea and fighting over a slice of carrot cake.

  I couldn’t be arsed. With only fifteen minutes to go before shutting up shop, I’d already stuck the closed sign on the door and sent Lily into the kitchen to start the final clean down which seemed to go on forever. Even though Grace wasn’t there to nag us, Lily would still take her time. She’d tuned into some shitty classical music channel and the constant whinge of the violins, competing with the hum of the dishwasher, made me want to punch my ears, but I let it go.

  There was something bugging Lily; she was moving about as though her limbs were made of wood and, every now and again, she stopped and gawped at whatever inanimate object was in her path. I was a bit pissed off that she’d cancelled our morning run last minute with the lame explanation that she was tired. I didn’t buy it. Of course, I’d asked her lots of times if everything was okay and she had nodded and fake smiled, but the second she didn’t think I was watching her, the weird spaced-out look returned.

  My phone buzzed. It was Stella. Apparently I had missed a peng gathering last night. Dillon got with Helen and Dom had made an absolute tit of himself by vomiting over his trousers. But the best bit of goss was that Amelie Townsend, a girl in Dad’s class who was a right beg, had gone AWOL. Stella’s theory was that she was up to no good with some bloke from another village because it was always the quiet ones who were the biggest slags.

  I couldn’t picture what Amelie looked like. I left the wrinklies chatting shit and went into the kitchen. “Hey, Lil? You know who Amelie Townsend is?”

  Lily had soap suds on her nose. The muscles in her jaw clenched but she carried on washing up the last of the cups and plates. She shrugged.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. “For God’s sake, Lils, what’s bugging you? Is it something I’ve done? If you don’t cheer up soon, I’m gonna sing.” I opened my mouth and took a deep breath.

  Lily dried her hands on her apron and pulled out her phone.

  I’m fine, I promise. Sorry for being a fun sponge.

  I gave Lily’s shoulders a squeeze. “Hmmmm. Yes, now you come to mention it you are a wee bit spongy today.”

  For the first time this morning Lily broke into a proper smile.

  “So, Dad told me, over brekky, that once we’ve closed, I have to get you straight round to ours for lu
nch. He’s already got the food in – M&S finest range, don’t you know.” I gave a little bow and Lily rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to lay the table nicely whatever the fuck that means and chill a bottle of champagne.”

  He’s asking her, then?

  “What?” I said, drowning out my own voice as I shook open a new black sack.

  “Yoo-hoo!” came a shrill squawk from the other side of the counter.

  I dropped the bag and went through to hurry the women out. Glad to see the back of them, I locked the door and grabbed their empty cups and plates. What was Lily going on about?

  I put the dirty stuff next to the sink and leaned against it, waiting while Lily filled her bucket with floor cleaner which smelled like Dad’s cheap aftershave. “What’s Dad asking your Mum?”

  Lily set the bucket down, water sloshing over the brim, and tapped her ring finger.

  “Shit!”

  Lily took the bucket into the furthest corner of the kitchen while I shoved the cups and saucers under the cold tap, processing the news. It was a good thing, wasn’t it?

  “No wonder Dad was a bit jumpy this morning. I should have known something was up – he was ironing his best shirt.”

  Lily swished the mop across the floor, making wet streaks on the tiles.

  “Do you think your Mum will say yes?” I asked, grabbing the nearest, clean-ish tea towel.

  Lily nodded and started attacking my feet with the mop.

  “That will make us sisters, right?” I pulled Lily into a hug – her hair smelt of coconut.

  Half an hour later we had closed the café and were on our way back through the village to my house. We stopped off at the newsagents to buy a bag of strawberry bonbons, my favourite, and a couple of bridal magazines.

  I flicked through the pages, giggling at some of the awful big-fat-gypsy-wedding dresses. “They’re a bit trashy, but at least it will give Grace something to look at.”

  ***

  There was a gentle pop and lazy, out-of-synch hooraying as champagne fizzed over the edge of the crystal flutes. Giggling, I licked the drops from my fingers and handed the first glass to Lily who hoovered the froth to prevent a secondary tsunami. Dad next, but none for Grace; she was tee-total. I poured her some sparkling water. We held our glasses up, chiming them against each other’s and the evening sun caught hold of the emerald on Grace’s wedding finger, throwing will-o’-the-wisps onto the table.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “To the happy couple.”

  Lily, my silent echo, nodded her head; her movements slow as though each expression was a real effort.

  Grace blew me a kiss while Dad’s crumpled stare hopped from person to person like the beam of a lighthouse. The sunshine was brutal in showing up the grooves across his broad brow, but at the same time the light made his eyes twinkle. I felt a burst of gratitude towards Grace. Okay, so I didn’t have the same connection with her as I had had with Annie, Grace was a bit too prim and proper for my liking, but hey – she’d mended his broken heart. Dad was the happiest he’d been in ages.

  I gulped my champagne, letting the bubbles burst on my tongue.

  “You can, of course, start by calling me, Mama,” giggled Grace, taking a dainty sip of water and wrinkling her small, pointed nose. She was wearing a short, pastel sundress which clung to her slender body. She didn’t dress too badly considering her age.

  “But of course,” I said.

  “In that case, I want to be Pater,” said Tom, throwing his arms around Lily and making the champagne glass smack against her front teeth. She untangled herself and reached for the platter of strawberries; big, fat, bubble-gum-smelling berries picked from the row of netted plants at the bottom of the garden. She almost collapsed under the weight of the bowl and the veins on the back of her hands bulged. She was the total opposite of Grace; small and curvy, where Grace was tall and bony. She had big brown eyes and her hair, judging by the roots, was probably black although she had dyed it a shade of blue-blonde – what my Mum called a blue rinse for the young. Unlike me, she never had much skin on show. Even in this stuffy, June heat she was well-covered, wearing a gypsy blouse and striped culottes which came down to just above her dainty ankles; a fine silver chain, dangling from one. She was barefoot and had painted her toenails with my favourite malted-chocolate varnish. I had always been desperate to know what her Dad looked like, but neither she nor Grace ever mentioned him and there weren’t any photos of him up around the house. All I knew about him was that he had died when Lily was eight. Same time Mum walked out on me and Dad.

  Lily gave me a small smile and plopped a berry into my glass. Something was definitely off with her; she could hardly meet my eye. Perhaps she didn’t approve of Dad and Grace hooking up.

  “Don’t think that will make you the big Sis,” I said, as black pepper from the strawberry swirled around the glass. I never did get why Grace insisted on sprinkling them with pepper and not sugar, but the sinking flakes reminded me I hadn’t yet fed my carp.

  “I am older than you by three months, so don’t forget, Lily Bradshaw, if we are forced to share a bedroom, it means I get priority over absolutely everything.”

  Lily fluttered her long, dark eyelashes and tapped something into her phone then passed it to me. I had to hold it up to my face, squinting in the bright sunshine, so I could make out the words.

  I have a lot of clothes…

  Lily tugged at her blouse and widened her eyes, raising her palms to the sky.

  Grace tutted. “Lily, darling, that’s enough. We’ve talked about how rude it is to conduct private conversations when you’re in a group. It’s just the same as whispering.”

  Harsh! Lily hung her head. To be honest, Grace could be a bit of a bitch at times.

  “Okay,” I said, fishing out the strawberry by its spidery stalk. I took a bite and licked the sweet juice which oozed down my hands as though I’d pricked my fingers with a needle. “Let’s just say we both have to agree before anything goes up on the walls.” We did our own private chinking of glasses to seal the deal.

  I wiped my hands with a paper napkin and reached for the tissue wrapped parcel I’d hidden on one of the chairs. I handed it to Grace.

  “What’s this?” asked Grace, setting down her glass and tugging at the badly sellotaped joins. Dad came over and pulled her to his chest. Since he had started visiting the gym before school his body was less Dad-bod; certainly not ripped, but the saggy tummy was now only a gentle curve which peeped through a small gape in the buttons of his shirt.

  Grace took out the bundle of bridal magazines and gave a little shriek. “Darlings. How terribly sweet of you.”

  “Lily and I thought you might like to get some ideas,” I said. Dad clapped his hands with approval.

  Grace turned the glossy pages slowly and looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Indeed. And do my bridesmaids have any particular ideas about colours?” Dad gave a cheer and Grace winked at him.

  I launched in. “So, we were thinking jade and teal, but that silk which gives a two-tone feel. It’s called Dupioni.”

  “Oh!” spluttered Grace. “I wasn’t expecting such a precise answer.”

  Lily pointed at the little jug on the table which was bursting with sweet peas. “I’m on it, Lily,” I said. “Dusty pink roses for the bouquet. And–”

  “Sweethearts,” interrupted Grace, flapping her hands about her face. “You know we can’t afford a huge wedding. We need to keep it simple.”

  “No church?” I said, my voice wavering. “No marquee in the garden?” While we’d been waiting for the happy couple to return, I’d scribbled down a list of fit boys Lily and I wanted to invite. “No…no after party?” I continued, trying to keep the hiss of disbelief out of my voice.

  “Well, I mean, Tom has been married before,” said Grace sucking in the air through her teeth. Dad bowed his head. That was a classic from Grace. She always managed to squeeze, Nina, my super-neurotic Mum into the conversation when she wanted a certain topic shut do
wn.

  “But you haven’t been married before,” I chimed in. “Isn’t it what every girl dreams of? To walk down the aisle in a puffy, meringue dress?”

  Grace let out a burst of air; half laugh, half sigh. “No, Flo. Believe it or not, it isn’t. I’d happily get married right here, right now with no fuss or frills. You guys are all we need.” She linked arms with Dad and leaned into him, tilting her chin upwards. “Right, Tom-Tom?”

  Dad kissed the tip of her freckled nose and nodded. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He stretched across the table and grabbed the neck of the sweating champagne bottle. “Neither of us has any other family.” He topped up the glasses, ill-estimating how much remained, so that he was left with just a dribble. “And I really, really don’t want to have to invite the rest of the science department along.” He shook his head. “You know,” he said in a loud whisper, hand over his mouth like a superhero villain, “they don’t allow them all out in public at the same time. It’s too dangerous.” Grace was the only one who giggled at his crap joke.

  “There had better be a cake,” I said sounding more toddler than teen.

  Grace threw back her head and laughed, keeping her eyes glued on Tom. “Yes, we can have a cake, but I’m sure as hell not making it.”

  My vision was growing fuzzy and wedding talk morphed into chat about heading into the village for fish and chips.

  Just then, Dad’s pre-historic phone rang. I sniggered. Hardly anyone ever called him on it, apart from me and now Grace, but when he answered his voice always carried an undercurrent of surprise, as though the novelty of speaking on such a modern thing would never cease. Emojis didn’t exist in Dad’s world and he had to make expressions out of punctuation marks.