Game Girls (20 page)

A
LIX NODS at the taxi driver, who is
standing holding the door for her. 'I won't be
long. I've just got a few things to get.'

She walks into The Dress Agency.

She's feeling strange – strung tight. She's
been holed up with Hugh for the last few
weeks, staying in as much as possible. There
have been a few interviews with the police, but
the main thing has been to keep her head
down. No contacts she hasn't
had
to have. No
questions she hasn't
had
to answer. That's been
the safest thing.

But Hugh has opened up an account for her.
'Get something wonderful.' And she's only got
a few hours to do it in.

'Good morning, madam.' The sales woman
recognises her, of course. 'How can I help you?'

'Bikinis,' says Alix. 'You had some with real
silver sequins a little while ago, and I want to
try one on.'

'Those have all gone – it's this early summer
we're having. It feels like the tropics, doesn't it?
But I can order one in for you. It will be
delivered within forty-eight hours.'

'That's too long.' Alix is razed with
irritation. She had pictured herself in the
sparkling black two-piece, sipping champagne
while the sun dipped behind a silvered horizon.
'I'm going away later today. I need it now.'

The sales woman glides across the sulked
edge in Alix's voice. 'Going anywhere nice?'

'Yes, we're . . . ' Alix stops herself just in time.
What the hell is she doing, telling this shop
woman all her plans? Not even Aaron knows
what she's up to. 'Well, no . . . just a weekend
thing, actually. Can I have a look at those halter-neck
dresses instead? The yellow silk one in the
window.'

'Certainly, madam, although that's the last
one of those too. If you've got a moment, I'll
get it out for you.'

'Thanks.' Alix sees her glance at the waiting
taxi as she edges into the window. Hugh is
already on Zara doing some last minute
checks, making everything perfect. He keeps
texting her, saying how much he's missing her –
even though she only left him an hour ago.
She's going straight to the jetty from here, but
they're not leaving until later in the afternoon,
so she's got a bit of time to play with. It'll be
good to make him wait around. If she strings it
out for long enough, he might even start to
worry that she's changed her mind.

It was easy to persuade him to speed up his
plans for going away. She curled her arms
round him, kissed his neck, and whispered
promises about the time they could already be
having – sailing towards paradise together.

So their cars have both been sold, and his
house is with an agent. Hers is pretty well
empty. Mum will keep paying the mortgage,
and maybe in a few months' time Alix will own
up to where she's really phoning her from.
Mobiles are fantastic for that. Mobiles are
perfect for all sorts of secrets.

It's been hard though. She's slept at night
with one ear strained for a knock on the door.
She's jumped at shadows. She's weighed every
word. She doesn't
think
anyone will ever link
her with Fern's disappearance, but she'll be
safer out of the country. She'll stay away all her
life if she has to. It doesn't bother her. She's
used to moving on.

And once they get set up in Italy, she'll be able
to see Carla too. Everything's coming together.
Everything's going the way she wants it to.

'There we are, madam.' The sales woman
steps back from the window, the yellow silk
dress over her arm. 'Is there anything else you'd
like to try?'

Alix scans the displays, narrowing her eyes.
'Uh . . . yes. I think possibly there
are
a few
things . . . ' She's making a new start with Hugh.
A fresh beginning. She ought to celebrate that,
by spending as much of his money as she can.

* * *

'Mum.' Courtney hears Jamie calling
uncertainly from the hall downstairs. 'There's a
funny man at the door.'

'All right, darling. Leave him to me. I'm on
my way.'

This last week, Mum has been so different.
Dad is gone – staying away while they 'talk
things through'. Courtney knows it could get
horrible and she isn't sure how she feels about
this. Or even what she wants. 'I need to get
advice,' Mum said. 'Bear with me, darling. I
want to get help for us all.'

But Courtney is afraid of help. And isn't she
just as bad as Dad? Dangerous, ugly secrets.
She's got plenty of her own.

She edges down the bed, leaning her head
back on the pillow and wondering vaguely if
Jamie's 'funny man' is a clown. Clowns are
scary. Sinister. She has never understood why
people laugh at them. She stares up at the
artexed ceiling, counting the small crazed
bobbles of emulsion. She counts them every
day. It's the best thing she can do to stop the
memories coming. One, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight . . .

It isn't working.

She can see the dark shape falling. Hear the
splash. And after that, what drifts through isn't
a memory. It's more a dream. A nightmare. The
body spinning slowly, sucked down in the
underwater whirl. Did Fern know? This is the
question that will always haunt her. Was Fern
conscious when she died?

. . . twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six . . .

She has started to shake – or maybe she is just
shaking more. She's not sure that she ever really
stops.

'Courtney?'

. . . thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine . . .

She jerks her head round. Mum is standing in
the doorway. 'What?'

'It's someone for you. He says it's
important.'

'Is it the police?' Courtney freezes. She
wants it to be the police. She wants them to
have found some evidence. She wants them to
have guessed.

'I'm sorry, darling, no. There's no new news.

It's something else – someone who says he's
called Elroy Franklin. Shall I get rid of him? He
doesn't look like the sort of boy you'd want to
know.'

Courtney struggles to sit upright, hugging
her knees. She never went back to Elroy. She
made no contact with him. He's better off
without her. She realises she must be staring at
Mum with wide, strange eyes, but it is as if
something has jarred her, seizing everything up.

Mum's voice grows higher, almost panicked.
'Is he trouble? Do you think he's one of these
internet perverts? Should I dial 999?'

'How. . . how did he find me?'

'He said he's been searching. Desperate,
apparently. He tried the college first but they
wouldn't tell him anything, and he's been doing a
house to house search ever since. Courtney – tell
me who he is. I really do think I should make that
phone call.'

It has hurt, not seeing him. Knowing he'd be
wondering what has happened. Some days
she's ached and ached, just to hear his voice.
She has to make one final effort for him. At
least she can tell him it's not his fault, and
make him see that he has to go away.

She gets up slowly. It's late morning but she
never gets up until lunch time anymore. She'd
stay in bed all day if Mum let her get away with
it. Pulling her dressing gown from the door, she
bunches the belt round her waist. She must look
revolting, but that doesn't matter. In fact, it's
probably better.

Lucas and Jamie are both outside her door,
eyes boggling. 'Courtney, he's a bit weird,'
hisses Jamie, who has had the same 'don't
dabble with strangers' talk that all the local
schools have launched themselves at in the last
few weeks. 'Don't go.'

Courtney steps past them, walking carefully
down the stairs, as if with any step she might
fall. And fall and fall.

Mum has closed the door on him. Her heart
wrenches. Poor Elroy. He'll guess what Mum is
thinking, and it'll hurt him. And then she tells
herself he's probably gone. It'll be for the best.
She doesn't deserve him. He doesn't deserve
her. Except her heart feels wrenched and she
wants to see him – just for one second. One last
long look that she can hold onto forever.

She opens the door slowly. He's still there,
the sunlight burning the air behind him. She
blinks, shading her eyes. She isn't used to light.

'Oh God – I've found you. I thought you'd
just disappeared. And with that other girl going
missing, I've been frantic.' He reaches for her
but she shrinks back.

'You mustn't touch me.' She stares down at
her bare feet, a crazed purple varnish still
patterning her nails, left over from forever ago.
That other life. 'You mustn't want to know
me.'

He drops his hands down by his side.
'Courtney – I'm so sorry. I know I pushed you
too far that last time. I've loathed myself ever
since.'

'Courtney.' Mum's voice is sharp behind
her. 'Shall I make that call?'

'No, Mum. No! Just – go away for a
moment. Leave us alone.'

'I don't think . . . '

'Mum. Two minutes. Please.'

'Two minutes is all he's getting.'

Courtney hears Mum back away, but knows
she hasn't gone far. Who cares? Let her listen.

She's got to get this over with.

Elroy is spilling words. Spilling his heart. 'I
missed you so much. And I kept thinking
something bad had happened. Your phone's
been off and I've been desperate. I even
contacted the police, and they must have
thought I was a nutter. A girl whose surname I
didn't know, and whose address I didn't have a
clue about – had stood me up. I didn't stand
much chance, did I?'

He puts a light laugh into his voice but she
can hear the pain in it. Feel the pain in it.

'Hate me, Elroy,' she whispers. 'Please –
hate me.'

'Not possible.' He is speaking very gently.

She stays staring at her toes. 'Even if you
won't hate me, you still have to go. Please. It's
all finished for us.'

'Courtney – let me see your face. Tell me
that while you're looking at me.'

He cups his hand under her chin and tilts it
upwards. Her eyes leak tears. She tries to pull
away but he won't let go. 'Look at me.'

She looks at him. And all she can think is
how beautiful he is, how beautiful. He is
everything that is right and pure and honest
and kind. If this had happened to him – if he
was with Alix that night – what would he do?
But she doesn't need to answer her own
question. She knows. She knows. 'I've done
something terrible,' she says it out loud. Lets
him hear it clearly. Lets the burning bright sky
hear it. Lets Mum hear it from behind the door.

'What sort of terrible?'

'I've been so stupid. I need to tell the police.
They'll lock me up, but I don't care. It's what I
deserve. But I didn't want it to happen – I
didn't choose it. It wasn't my idea.'

'If it was an accident, then the police will
listen. As long as you're honest with them, it'll
be OK.'

She is suddenly tired. She could drop to her
knees. She could curl tight and sleep and sleep
on the sunlit grass. And in that tiredness the
worst fear seems to pass through her as if it is
a wave she has had to walk into the centre of.
A great tidal surge that has tried to sweep her
away – and failed.

Elroy is pulling her closer, helping her to
stay standing. 'I'm here for you. I'm here all the
way through it. Whatever it is.'

She lets him fold his arms around her and
she doesn't know where any of it will lead, but
she feels strangely washed clean. She's going to
lift the stone, and the police won't even need to
search underneath. She'll tell them everything.
Lay it out in front of them. Sorry, Jamie. Sorry,
Lucas. She hopes they won't be too hurt. Too
damaged. But it's better out now, than later.

Secrets always come out in the end.

* * *

H
UGH COMES DOWN the jetty to greet
her. 'Do you have any more bags in the taxi?'

'Just a few.' She smiles as she glances back,
the driver pulling a stash of carrier bags from
the boot. 'I'm sorry I took longer than I said I
would. I just got carried away. And I know
you'll think I'm
very
silly to buy so much, but
I couldn't make up my mind.'

He kisses her on the top of the head. 'It
looks as if you've bought enough to last a
lifetime.'

Alix affects a giggle and leans against him.
She wants to tell him that a lifetime is the plan,
but it's too soon. It's still early days, and it's
vital not to look too keen. 'I had to have some
special things.' She makes her voice teasing and
light. 'I can't spend the next six months in just
a bikini. And then I got hungry so I grabbed a
bit of lunch. Sorry I didn't text you but I think
my phone's playing up.'

They reach Zara and Hugh holds out one
hand to help her on.

She hesitates, glancing down even though
she has told herself she mustn't. The water
beneath her seems dark and brooding. She
jumps quickly. She mustn't think. She mustn't
think. There's no point carrying around the
baggage of the past.

'Six months with you in just a bikini sounds
like a dream come true for me.' Hugh turns to
take the bags from the driver. 'Hang on a sec.
I'll pay off this chap, and then I'll be with you.
I want to crack open a bottle of champers
before we head off.'

Alix stands on the deck, scanning the
river. It's busy, because of the heat. Luxury
yachts and small wooden rowing boats. A
line of canoes from some local youth activity
centre. An old-fashioned schooner, its tall
masts looking like something from a fairy
tale as it glides magically past.

And then she looks behind her. She hadn't
wanted to do that. Hadn't meant to. But what
she sees almost stops her heart. Just near the
bend, close to
River's View
, is a police car
heading towards the house. Why are they going
there? She feels a chill of unease.

Hugh appears beside her, watching it too.
'Apparently they're going to be dragging the
riverbed later. I was speaking to a chap on the
jetty before you arrived. There's been police
activity over there all afternoon.'

A shadow seems to move round her, a cloud
crossing the sun. She shivers.

'You poor darling.' Hugh pulls her close.
'I know you said you didn't know her well,
but it must be terrible to have known her at
all. The whole story haunts me whenever I
read about it, and I never even set eyes on
her. I can't imagine what her parents must be
going through. They must still be hoping.
Families always hope – if no body is ever
found . . . '

'I want to go.' Alix presses against him. 'I
don't really feel much like celebrating here.'

He strokes her hair gently. 'We'll do
whatever you want.'

She brightens her voice, moving away
slightly. She doesn't want to stand around
having a cuddling session and wasting time.
They need to get going. They
have
to get going.
'Maybe we can have our champagne once
we're out in the channel. It'll be more exciting
then anyway.' She curves a gentle smile at him,
touching his arm, her voice huskily soft. 'We
can celebrate properly there, if you like.'

'I
do
like.' Hugh pulls her close again,
hugging her tightly. 'You drive me wild, my
beautiful Sea Princess. I'll weigh the anchor
and we'll go go go.'

Minutes later Zara's engine throbs into life,
and they pull away. Alix stands beside Hugh,
at the wheel. He is steering one-handed, his
arm round her shoulder. 'I can't believe you're
with me. I must be the luckiest man in the
world.'

'Me too,' she murmurs. 'The luckiest girl, I
mean.' But she isn't looking at him. She is
watching the jetty slipping from view. A dark
blue car has arrived, and a man in a suit is
talking to the taxi driver. How come he hasn't
driven off yet? The man in the suit shades his
eyes, looking out towards the water.

Alix turns away quickly. 'Can we go faster?'
she says. 'Really race along. I want to feel as if
we're really steaming.'

'It's illegal,' laughs Hugh. 'Rivers are like
roads. They have speed limits. It's only four
knots along here – and it would be lethal to
push it with all this traffic.'

She stands, silent, watching the water spray
up from the bow. A rabble of seagulls circles
round them, and then soars away. A couple in
a passing rowing boat shout, 'Ahoy there,' and
wave happily.

'And there it is . . . up ahead . . . the open
sea.' Hugh takes his arm from Alix's shoulder
and puts both hands on the wheel. 'We can
speed things up a bit now.'

Alix smiles. Laughs. The open sea. The big
wide world.

The river has gone.

The tacky tourist towns that run along the
edge of the coast have become dots in the
distance.

Ahead, the sun sparks down on the endless
water, its silk-bright surface flashing a
thousand silver sequins. She closes her eyes and
a breeze skims her face. Hugh steps behind her.
'You take the wheel, darling. We've got some
space round us now, and I've steadied the
course. Can you keep us going straight – just
for a sec?' He squeezes her shoulder. 'I'll just go
and get that champagne.'

She takes hold of the wheel, and Hugh stays
behind her, his hands over hers. She glances
round at him. 'What total trust, leaving me in
charge of your wonderful Zara.' She is still
laughing, her insides soaring. She's getting
away. She's getting away.

'I'd trust you with anything.' He kisses the
back of her neck. 'Oh hang on – perhaps I'd
better stay at the helm, just for a moment
longer. Looks like there's a patrol boat over to
the starboard side. We're going to have to cut
the engine for a moment. God knows what its
problem is – but it seems to be flashing its
lights at us . . . '