The Cry of the Lake

by Charlie Tyler

  Whispering.

  Annie pressed her lips together. “Now there are a lot of rumours already flying about so, do me a favour will you, and block them out of your mind. What I want you to think about is what you personally know about Amelie. Fact not fiction.” Annie started pacing across the stage, lost in her own thoughts. “The last sighting we have of Amelie was when she left school on Friday afternoon. We need to know where she went. Was she meeting anyone and if so who? Did she have a boyfriend or was there someone she had a crush on?” I sucked in my breath and Stella dug me in the thigh, rolled her eyes and mouthed crush!

  “I want you to know that we are searching through her belongings so if there is anything to find we will find it…” She stopped pacing to let the words hang in the air. The atmosphere in the room was spiky and my shoulders ached from trying to stand up straight. “So, if there is anything, anything you can think of that might help us…”

  Annie nodded at Phibbs.

  “Right, off to class now please,” said Phibbs, playing with the string of fake pearls around her neck. Everyone started talking at each other as we bundled out of the hall. “All apart from Upper Six M, that is,” she shouted. Dad looked up at the stage. “DS Harper wants to have a further chat with you and her classmates. So, Mr Marchant, if you wouldn’t mind taking yourselves into the common room. I’ve organised some teas and coffees to be sent your way.” Dad rubbed his forehead and nodded.

  For the rest of the day, school was full of gossip about Amelie, the rumours growing worse with each passing minute. Nearly all of the chat was based around her running off with a boy because the copper wouldn’t have mentioned a boy unless there was something in it. I had been in the loos at first break and overheard one of her gang saying Amelie had almost certainly hinted that she was seeing someone but wouldn’t say who it was. None of the boys had owned up to it being one of them. Amelie wasn’t a stunner, but nor was she a minger, so there was no reason for them not to come forward.

  By second break it was Salem all over again. Carl Flack, a bit of a loner who liked to spend his free periods doing fuck knows what in the science block, was the favourite suspect amongst us sixth formers. Stella said she knew for a fact he had a bit of a thing for Amelie, but, as I pointed out, he had a bit of a thing for any girl who didn’t cross to the other side of the corridor when he approached.

  At lunchtime someone dared to switch channels from Doctors to the local news bulletin and there was Annie, looking awkward, standing on the steps of Oakford police station. She was making an appeal and afterwards a picture of Amelie flashed across the screen. It was one of those official school photographs with a swirly blue background. I definitely remembered who she was – I’d seen her with Dad. I’d walked in on them one break time. Dad had been helping her with her oh-so-very-important Oxbridge homework.

  By the end of the day, Carl, oblivious to the lies, was lucky to escape without being lynched.

  I was relieved by the change of scene when I entered the café, but unfortunately the Chinese whispers didn’t stop there; Lake View Café was bursting with gossip too.

  I slung my blazer on the peg behind the kitchen door and tied on my apron tight before launching myself into the task of mixing milkshakes for snotty, ungrateful kids. I hated the afternoon shift on a hot day as all it seemed to involve was standing by a blender, whizzing up ice cubes while my nostrils filled with the sickly scent of burnt caramel and butterscotch. Still, the grinding sound was the perfect way to drown out the ever-increasing flow of shit.

  “Hey, Flo,” shouted a familiar voice.

  I spun around. “Hey, Annie,” I said, loosening my apron strings which were almost cutting my waist in half. I squirted cream onto a milkshake then popped a lid onto the plastic cup before stabbing it with a straw. I handed the sickly mixture to a Year Seven boy who was leaning his greasy forehead against the glass counter, gazing at Grace’s rainbow cake.

  “Thank you,” I said in my most patronising voice.

  The rude shit said nothing and walked out, leaving a smudge on the counter.

  I turned to Annie. “You did good this morning.”

  Annie grinned. Her lipstick now resembled a stain of raspberry jam and her dark hair had dried into its usual guinea-pig rosettes.

  “School kids,” she said, and mimed being hung on a noose.

  “I know, right?” I pointed to the nearest table where a group of younger kids were throwing sachets of sugar at each other. “Hey! Cut it out,” I shouted, “or piss off.” I turned back to Annie and they fell about laughing. “Can I get you anything? On the house, obviously.” I whispered the last bit because although Dad technically owned the café, I wasn’t sure Grace would approve. Not to me giving out free drinks, but because it was Annie.

  It wasn’t obvious to most people that Grace had beef with Annie because she always went out of her way to be super nice about her, but face-to-face Grace couldn’t hide her dislike. I suppose I couldn’t really blame Grace; Annie had broken Dad’s heart and chipped a bit off mine while she was at it.

  “No thanks, Chick. I’ve actually come here to speak to Grace.” She paused. “Well actually you and Lily too.”

  “Grace isn’t here. She’s taken Lily somewhere. Dentist, doctor, hairdresser. Take your pick. I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”

  “You’ll have to do then.” Annie eyed the empty kitchen, but just then the café door opened, and a stream of brats came piling in. I groaned and reached for the chocolate powder.

  “I can multi-task,” I said with a small smile.

  Annie slipped through the hatch and rolled up her sleeves. “Me too. And I haven’t forgotten how to make a Frappuccino either,” she added, going through to the kitchen to wash her hands. I grinned and chucked Lily’s apron at her.

  “It reminds me of the good old days,” I said. Annie was about to say something in return but instead clamped her mouth shut and busied herself at the other end of the counter. We worked side by side until the rabble had spilled back onto the hot pavement and I watched, jealous, as the kids crossed the road and sat by the edge of the lake, soaking up the cool breeze.

  “I’d forgotten what hard work being a barista is.” Annie leaned her elbows onto the patch of work surface nearest the till. She arched her back and her spine clicked. “I gather Amelie was a regular here. Did you know her?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. She came into the café a fair bit. She seemed sweet but quiet. Always with the popular girls – a bit of a beg.”

  Annie nodded and untied her apron, leaning into the kitchen and hanging it back behind the door.

  I shoved a biscuit under her nose; a misshapen cookie with cracked smarties bursting from the surface. “They need eating up.”

  “And who might the popular crowd be?” Annie took a large bite of the cookie and held an upturned palm under her chin.

  “Bea Harding and Tessa Pike. Silly bitches, the pair of them.”

  Annie reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a notebook. She asked me to repeat the names before scribbling them down. “Did she come into the café last Friday, either before or after school?”

  “I don’t think I saw her after school, but I honestly wouldn’t be able to say for sure because she was never really on my radar. Lils and I don’t work before school. Grace and another couple of women do that shift but, even then, Grace is normally out the back baking and making up sandwiches, so I doubt if she’d remember either. In fact, Grace hardly ever serves front of house.”

  Annie dusted crumbs from her blouse and made a note of the names of Grace’s other employees.

  “I know you can’t really say but…” I said, my voice doing that silly up-speak at the end.

  Annie raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, it’s just that everyone is saying there was a boy involved.”

  “Did you ever see her on her own with a boy?” asked Annie.

  I shook my head.

  The sugar-throwing group of kids got up
to leave, scraping their chairs across the floor before they trundled out, giggling and whipping each other behind the knees with their jumpers. I armed myself with a j-cloth and spray before ducking under the counter. I started to stack the plates and then launched myself out of the café, sending the bell above the door into a frenzy. I peered along the High Street, but the group had already vanished down the side road which led away from the lake and towards the park.

  “So typical,” I said, coming back inside, waving a slim, pink fluffy pencil case in the air. “I could literally start my own shop with all the shit that gets left behind.”

  I opened the cupboard next to the milk fridge and pulled out the large plastic box with Lost Property written on the side. I dropped the pencil case into it.

  “Can I have a look at that?” asked Annie.

  I handed her the crate. “Go for it. There’s even a tiny china doll in there. I found it slap bang in the middle of a table, sitting up against the saltshaker.”

  Annie peered inside the box.

  I picked out the doll and dangled it by its woollen hair. “I know it’s missing a leg, but it looks vintage, doesn’t it? If no one claims it by the end of the month, I’m going to take it into town and see if Kamble’s Antiques will give me some cash for it. What do you reckon?”

  Annie grunted and, reaching inside her jacket for a silver topped pen, leaned in, poking around, like she was playing a game of Operation. After half a minute, she put her pen back in her pocket and folded her arms.

  She moved towards the door. “I’ll pop in another time to speak to Lily and Grace.” She paused. “Oh, and do say hi to Tom,” she added, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She left, and my stomach lurched. Damn! I hadn’t told Annie about the engagement and that had been the perfect opportunity. I didn’t want her to hear it from someone else. Somehow, I’d let things fall back into how they use to be; the same easy friendship which allowed Grace and the wedding to vanish from my thoughts – or was it just wishful thinking?

  Chapter Six

  Grace

  I was re-arranging all the items in my glossy, wicker hamper bought specifically for Monarchy Day. I had picked a polka dot tea-dress to wear for the special occasion. In my youth I hadn’t always been great at knowing how to dress myself, but as Grace, I always made sure I had the latest Joules catalogue to hand – that way I knew I would always look perfect.

  I was truly delighted with my choice of linen napkins, and tied up each one with black ribbon. In the super-expensive homeware boutique in Oakford I stumbled across a set of champagne flutes made of thickened glass, ideal for al fresco dining. Plastic simply wouldn’t have done, but cut-glass would have been too fragile. These were perfect for magnifying the contents of the bottle of vintage champagne which took me five minutes to zip inside its shiny, refrigerated jacket. I was delighted to note that there wasn’t a Tupperware box in sight. I wrapped the smoked salmon sandwiches with the cutest beeswax paper and string, and tucked them next to the kitsch, china plates I found in one of the charity shops – shabby chic.

  Okay, so it wasn’t Henley Regatta we were attending, but a dance around a slimy pond crawling with horse flies, but one still had one’s standards. After all, this was our first official outing as an affianced couple and, already I could see the sand in the egg-timer slipping through the funnel. There wouldn’t be much more time for me to enjoy my engagement celebrations.

  Emily would never marry. She was tainted goods.

  There was a knock at the door.

  I went to answer it, leaning into the cloakroom on my way past to check myself in the mirror. I pinched my cheeks, pleased with my elegant silhouette although, ideally, I would have liked to lengthen my frame with a pair of sky-scraper heels, but they would have been far too impractical for the walk through Cupid’s Wood to the well.

  I opened the door and there was DS Harper. Off-duty by the looks of her dreadful outfit.

  “Oh!” I said, stretching my lips into a dazzling smile. Little did she know it was one of pity. Annie looked awful; her skin was damp and shiny, and her denim dress hung off her frame as though she hadn’t zipped it up at the back.

  I stepped onto the gravel drive and breathed in the humid air which was buzzing with excited chatter. Each household, like me, was packing up their picnics and searching for the right equipment; flasks, folding chairs for Granny to sit on and rugs still patched with crusted debris from their last outing. The sky was a hazy grey blanket and as soon as I stooped to pick up a stray sprig of geraniums, pressure needled against my temples, warning me the sun was moments away from scorching through the clouds. A timely reminder to bring the sunscreen. The flowers in my hand smelt earthy and drips of dew slid onto my fingers.

  I bit my tongue to stop myself telling Annie that the dolly bow at the back of her dress made her look like the prize draw for a WI raffle.

  Annie squinted at me. “Good morning, Grace, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Of course, of course. Let me make you some tea. You look tired. Some raspberry leaf and ginger perhaps to get rid of those dark bags under your eyes.” My lips glistened with my honeyed words.

  “No, really, no thanks.” Annie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was wearing scuffed Mary-Janes. Simply ghastly. “I’ve a few things to do before heading off with everyone else to the well.”

  I pretended not to listen and retreated into the house. I heard Annie sigh and wipe her feet on the door mat before following me into the cool hall. Annie’s breath smelt of coffee. The poor creature had really let herself go; she was pencil thin, her limbs all sharp angles – presumably the result of a diet of loneliness.

  The engagement ring.

  I spun around. “Well this is a lovely surprise.” I reached out and clasped Annie’s hands. I squeezed them hard, pressing the jagged emerald into Annie’s palm. Annie glanced down, a look of bewilderment sweeping over her face before she jerked her hands away as though she had been stung.

  I had to grind my feet into the floor to stop my body from quivering with delight.

  I turned on my wedges and stalked into the kitchen. I really couldn’t have planned this any better. All those years ago, when Grace was just a spark in my imagination, that very moment which had just elapsed was the perfect opportunity to sit back and admire my masterpiece. Grace, the lavender-scented, perfectly attired, ideal girlfriend.

  There, sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, sat the picnic hamper, my straw sunhat lying against it; ribbon around the brim. When I went out to water the passionflower first thing, I had picked a couple of roses which now stood in a glass milk bottle next to the basket. I took a photo of it for the café’s Instagram page and the likes were already pouring in. I fluttered my eyelashes at her and organised myself into a balletic first position.

  “Wow,” said Annie, her eyes wide with admiration, although for some reason the corners of her mouth were twitching at the same time. “There’s me with my corned beef sarnies and bag of Monster Munch, pickled onion flavour of course.”

  Of course?

  “Dave’s bringing the sausage rolls and a scotch egg to share.”

  “Is Dave your…your other half?”

  “Oh no.” She gave an unattractive snort, but didn’t say anything to provide an explanation as to who Dave was or why the crisps had to be pickled onion flavour. She jerked her head towards the table. “You must have been up at the crack of sparrows to get that all ready.”

  I wafted a hand across my face. “Oh! It’s nothing. Just a few smoked salmon sandwiches, freshly baked scones with homemade jam, strawberries and pink fizz to round off the celebrations. After all, it’s not every day a girl gets engaged.” I threw back my swan-like neck and a delicate volley of laughter escaped my lips.

  “Is Flo not coming with you?” Annie wrinkled her brow. There was a pause and a flash of confusion passed through my mind. I’m ashamed to say, for a few seconds, I may have gawped.

  Annie cleare
d her throat. “It’s just that Flo hates fish, doesn’t she?”

  Stupid woman, how could you have forgotten?

  “Oh, well, of course, there’s ham in there as well.” I smoothed my skirts in a calm, sweeping motion whilst a swirl of anger burrowed itself into my stomach lining.

  “Is Lily here?” Annie peered into the basket.

  I wanted to say no but there was a thud from upstairs which jingled the light fitting. I shook out a clean tea towel and draped it over the basket, forcing Annie’s fingers to retreat. “May I ask what this is about? You look as though you’re…off-duty.” I clamped my teeth together and gave Annie another brilliant smile.

  She winked. “Ah, but I’m never off-duty.”

  Cheeky bitch.

  I walked into the hall and called up the stairs. “Darling, please can you come down. Now.”

  Annie had moved to the kitchen window, her gaze settled on the dahlia bed which, from this side of the kitchen, was a blur of angry reds.

  “Your garden looks amazing,” she said, turning around and leaning against the work surface. “I’m guessing Tom’s not involved.” She gave a dry laugh. “Despite all his best efforts, he never was much of a gardener.”

  I laughed, perhaps a little too loud. “Yes. I think I’ve got my work cut out there.”

  “Have you set a date?”

  “Absolutely! Tom and I don’t see the point in waiting. We’re getting married in a couple of months. Naturally, it makes sense to move into Tom’s house – it’s so much bigger than this place plus there’s room for a…” I paused and lowered my gaze; demure, “…a nursery. You know Tom – he’s just crazy about kids.”