Ready or Not, page 19
‘I don’t think it’s come to that, yet,’ Alice said.
‘I hope not,’ Nadia replied. ‘And if it has, I hope you don’t find out when it’s too late.’
Tom
Roland had a distant, glazed look in his eyes. Tom tensed. It was the way he had been when he was using.
He stood in the front hall and beckoned Tom inside. ‘Dad’s sleeping,’ he said. ‘Mum’s gone for a walk.’
‘And you’re taking advantage of the free time?’ Tom said. He had meant for it to sound jokey and light, a friendly reminder that he was watching his brother.
It did not come out like that. It sounded pointed and accusatory.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Roland said.
Tom closed his eyes. ‘Maybe you fell off the wagon. You seem a bit stoned.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Roland said. ‘I’m sober. No booze, no junk, no weed. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth. That’s all that matters to me. Although I won’t say I don’t think about it, all the fucking time. That’s the worst part, actually, Tom – not the craving, that I can deal with. It’s that I’m constantly thinking about it. About how it would feel, about how it would make my anxiety go away. About how I could slip away into the bliss that I know is right there, right at my fingertips. I never stop thinking about it – and that terrifies me. Is this what I’ve done to myself, Tom? Is this the rest of my life? Because if it is, I’m not sure I can stand it.’
‘It’ll get better,’ Tom said. ‘I’m sure it will. And I’m sorry. That was judgemental. But I’m having a pretty shit day of my own.’
‘Care to elaborate?’
‘The Crucifix Killer sent another note. This time telling Alice she’s next.’
‘My God,’ Roland said. ‘That is a bad day.’
‘So we’re going away for a while.’
‘Away? Where away?’
‘Tonight we’ll be in a hotel, then we’re going to a house in the Lake District Alice rented.’
‘Is it that bad?’ Roland said.
‘Worse. She’s the target now. And they’ve been at our house, posting letters through the door.’ He shook his head. ‘Even if it’s not a real threat, I can’t stay there. I can’t sleep at night. This morning I looked like you. Maybe not that bad, actually.’
‘You should be safe up there,’ Roland said. ‘Where is it?’
‘We’re keeping it secret.’
‘Oh. I understand.’
‘Although I was worried about Dad. If something happened and you needed to contact me it might be worth you having the address.’
‘I could phone you.’
‘Could be no reception. So just in case, I thought I’d give you the address.’ It was a way of signalling to Roland that he was trying to trust him. A small step, and harmless enough, but something. He took out his phone. ‘Alice emailed it to me. Here. I’ll forward it on.’
‘OK,’ Roland said. ‘Stay safe.’
‘I will. And don’t tell anyone where we are.’
‘I won’t,’ Roland said. ‘You can count on me.’
Saturday, 28 August 2021
Tom
They were staying in a hotel at Manchester airport. It felt safe, with all the security about. He, Alice and Jo were having breakfast. The breakfasts were his favourite thing about staying in a hotel – there were no more buffets, but you could still order eggs and fruit and bacon and porridge, and start the day properly.
His dad used to order kippers whenever they were on the menu, but Tom drew the line there.
He sipped his coffee. ‘I didn’t know you used to go up to the Lake District?’
Alice buttered a piece of toast. ‘Yep. I went after university.’
‘Camping?’
‘Stayed in a youth hostel,’ Alice said. She didn’t elaborate. She had never talked much about her parents and childhood; he’d pressed once and she’d snapped at him that she preferred to leave some things in the past.
He could understand; some wounds were too raw to expose. He’d felt like that about Roland for years, but it was amazing how things could change if you gave them a chance. Maybe there was a lesson there for Alice.
‘I’m glad we’re going there,’ he said. ‘You can show me some of your childhood haunts.’
‘Not really childhood. I was there with my boyfriend. Sure you want to hear what we got up to?’
‘Maybe not,’ he said. ‘He was called Ned, right?’
‘He was. We actually broke up while we were there.’
‘Who dumped who?’
‘I did the dumping,’ Alice said. ‘Please!’
‘You dumped your boyfriend on holiday?’ Tom shook his head. ‘That’s a hell of a move, Alice.’
‘It wasn’t working,’ she said. ‘He had to go.’
‘I guess I’ll watch my step then,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I would, if I were you.’
Alice
The cottage she had found was a remote, converted farmhouse, overlooking the lake. It had not been cheap, but money was not an issue. It was exactly what she wanted; she had been planning to browse for a suitable place to stay, a place which had the characteristics she needed, and then to find one which was so perfect – well, it had made this seem fated.
In the lounge there was a large picture window looking out over the lake. Opposite her the steep scree slope ran down to the black water. It was as still and deep and indifferent as she remembered.
She remembered this place. It hadn’t changed at all.
Wast Water. It was not the kind of place that changed.
Tom appeared by her side, Jo in his arms.
‘This place is amazing,’ he said. ‘It’s like something out of Lord of the Rings. I half expect a Balrog to rise up from the water.’
‘A what?’
‘A Balrog. Although they may be fire demons, so perhaps it’s unlikely there’s one in the lake’
‘What the bloody hell are you going on about?’ she said.
‘Never mind.’ He smiled at her. ‘I take it you didn’t read Lord of the Rings, then?’
‘No,’ Alice said. ‘Perhaps I can while we’re here. I think we’re going to have plenty of time.’
‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘Maybe things will settle down.’
Tom
There was more or less no phone signal in the area, but the house had wireless. At least, it was supposed to, but it was hit and miss at best. Downstairs you were OK if you were in the kitchen or dining room; the living room seemed to depend on the time of day or alignment of the stars or some other arrangement, and upstairs was a dead zone. Tom had discovered that it also worked outside on the stone terrace that overlooked the lake, which was where he now sat.
He glanced over his shoulder. He did not want Alice to appear behind him and read the email he had just received.
Hi Tom
Hope you’re well. Here are some photos of Alice from her university days. Some of them were prints that I scanned, but most were already digital so the quality is pretty good. I had quite a lot of fun looking through them – it brought back a lot of happy memories – so thanks for doing this!
They’re quite self-explanatory and Alice will recognize all the people. I’ll let her explain to you who they are.
If you need any more or have any questions, let me know. Happy to help – and looking forward to getting back in touch with Alice after you give her the album!
Nellie
He typed a reply.
Nellie,
Thanks – this is fantastic, I really appreciate it. I’ll take a look at them.
One thing I wanted to let you know – we’re away on a kind of extended holiday. It’s pretty remote so I won’t be able to get the photos printed. I was going to make an album online, but decided to do it by hand – tape them in and write my own captions – so am asking my brother, Roland, to get them all printed and then bring them to me in the next couple of days (her birthday is coming right up!)
I’ll forward these to him and copy you so you have his email address in case anything comes up.
Thanks again!
Tom
He sent the email then went back to the photos. There were nine attachments, and he opened the first one.
Three young women – Alice, Nellie and Mads, he assumed – looked at the camera, their faces slightly flushed. They were in a bar – probably on campus somewhere – and all three had cigarettes in their hands.
Which was odd. He had never known that Alice smoked. She had a bit of a thing about it, in fact – when he’d met her she wouldn’t go anywhere near anyone who was smoking. He’d thought she was a bit obsessed with her physical fitness. She ran or did yoga or weights every day, and as often as she could she went swimming. He’d gone with her once; she was like a fish, scything through the pool.
She was a little less obsessed now, but still – smoking? He’d have to ask her about it when he gave her the album. Or maybe he shouldn’t include this photo. She might not like it.
As a matter of fact, he wondered whether she would like the photo regardless of the cigarette. She was quite a bit different in it. Her face was fuller, and her arms – she was in a Nirvana T-shirt – were nowhere near as muscular as they were now.
In fact, it didn’t really look like her at all.
The hair was the same, but young Alice had a wider smile and warmer, more expressive eyes.
He opened the next one.
It was a troupe of actors on a stage. It took a while for him to recognize Alice as she was dressed as a boy, a wool cap on her head. It was a pantomime; behind them on the stage was a Christmas tree.
She had never mentioned acting, either. He bent closer, zooming in on her face.
It was clearly the same person as in the other photo, but she bore no more than a passing resemblance to his wife. Had he not known better, he would almost have thought it was not the same person.
Well, people’s appearances changed. They lost weight, gained weight. It wasn’t that uncommon to hear someone say something along the lines of she almost looks like a different person.
His wife had changed a lot, probably after – and because of – her parents’ death.
He just hoped Alice would be OK with being reminded of her former self.
Wast Water, July 2013
Alice
They swam lazy circles in the lake. Alice was aware that next to Brenda’s sleek elegance, she was like a barrel bobbing about.
‘This is magical,’ Alice said. ‘Makes me want to stay here for ever.’
‘It really is,’ Brenda said. ‘Maybe we could stay here for ever.’
It was a bit of an odd thing to say. Alice looked at Brenda, and she was smiling, but the smile seemed forced.
Then the smile fell away, and with a sudden flick of her legs, Brenda lurched towards her. With her left arm she did a freestyle stroke; her right came out of the water, fingers spread wide. Too late, Alice understood what she was doing. Too late, she realized that the hand was aimed at her head. It was like in school swimming lessons when someone ducked you for a joke.
Except this was not a joke.
And this was not a swimming pool.
Brenda’s hand slapped against her head and pressed down with a shocking and intolerable force. Alice kicked her legs hard and circled her hands, trying to counter the pressure from Brenda’s hand.
‘Brenda,’ she gasped. ‘Stop. Please. What are you doing?’
Brenda stared at her. Her eyes were hard and expressionless.
And empty.
There was not a flicker of recognition in them. It was as though she was looking at someone she had never met before.
They were the eyes of an animal.
Alice struggled, but it was pointless. Brenda was too strong, and, inch by inch, she sank under the surface. As her mouth and nose dipped under the water she twisted and took a final deep breath, and then she was surrounded by cold, cold water, with only that final breath in her lungs.
She reached above her head and grabbed Brenda’s hand. It meant she was no longer able to fight the downward pressure, but that didn’t matter; it was making no difference anyway. If she could move Brenda’s hand then she could get away.
Brenda would chase her down, though. She was a much better swimmer than her. But so what. She could deal with that when – if – it happened.
It had been only seconds, but her lungs were already burning, her heart pounding in her chest. She had only moments to get away
She thought of her friends, Nellie, Mads. Of Ned. Of them all at her funeral, in tears.
She had to survive.
But Brenda’s hand was impossible to move. Part of the problem was that Alice was still struggling upwards, which was forcing her into Brenda’s grasp. It seemed crazy, but she needed to go down.
She stopped kicking and paddled down with her hands.
It worked; she felt the pressure from Brenda’s hand vanish, and she kicked away on her back. She needed to get to the surface, and quickly.
Her head broke into the sunlight. She gasped in lungfuls of air, water streaming down her face, then something hit her head. It was a foot, crashing into her chin. Brenda was on her back, lashing out with her feet.
There was another blow and pain exploded in her jaw. She tried to swim away, but Brenda, a much better swimmer, came after her.
A hand gripped her bicep.
Another hand clamped down on her head, and pushed.
Her vision narrowed, the edges darkened, and her lungs felt like they were going to burst.
As her oxygen-starved brain began to shut down, she had time for one final thought.
Why? Why is she doing this?
Brenda
Brenda felt calm, and good. She felt at peace.
The last few weeks had been hell. It had been hard to keep herself together. She had felt unmoored.
Moving from place to place, no idea what came next, just knowing she could not stay still, could not risk being caught. It had made her want to kill.
That was all she could think: I have to kill. It will make me feel in control, and then I can focus on other things.
Make a plan.
And then she had met Alice. No parents to look for her. Her boyfriend dismissed. Her friends abroad.
She was the perfect victim. All Brenda needed was an opportunity. A swim in a deep lake.
But, as she planned it – and her hunger grew and became harder to hide – she saw that Alice was more than merely a way to ease her need.
More than just a victim.
She was the answer to everything. All Brenda’s problems would be removed at one stroke.
She left the body in shallow water, taking care to make sure no one was around. Then she took her large rucksack – she had no need for it or its contents any more, not now she had Alice’s – and carried it into the lake. She opened the flap and stuffed in some large rocks, then turned the body on its front and twisted the arms through the straps.
Then she clipped the waist strap around Alice’s hips and dragged her out into the middle of the lake.
It was a struggle to move the body and the rucksack – the weight of the rocks and rucksack dragged it down, which was exactly the point – but fortunately the lake deepened steeply so she didn’t have to go more than thirty or forty yards.
Still, when she got to the spot she wanted, she was panting, and it was a relief to let go and watch the body sink into the darkness.
She lay on her back and stared up at the blue sky. It was cloudless and she felt a sensation of perfect peace.
Beneath her, the body of Alice Barnes drifted to its final resting place.
PART THREE
Saturday, 28 August 2021
Tom
He sent the email, then forwarded the original to Roland.
Hey – look at these photos! Alice has changed a lot. I’m going to ask for a couple more – will copy you. Then can you get them printed and we can meet up? Thanks, Tom
He was interrupted by Alice.
‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Let’s go. I’m ready.’
She was standing by the back door, Jo perched in a backpack. In her hand she had a small rucksack.
‘Is that new?’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen it before.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve had it years. I forgot about it. The last time I used it was when I was here, and so I dug it out.’
‘Give me a minute. I have to send an email.’
She walked outside and stood looking at the lake. He opened his laptop and started to type.
Nellie
Thanks once again for the photos. It’s coming together well! One more question – do you have anything from the post-university years? I don’t have any from before I met her.
If so, could you send them to me and Roland (on copy)?
Best
Tom
As he hit send, an email notification popped up. It was from Roland.
Wow – she is really different. Like another person. Will watch out for the email. All OK? We’re fine. Will keep you posted if anything changes with Dad. You can always get back if necessary, right? R
Tom typed a quick reply.
Yes, I can. And keep me posted. My phone will be on but reception is patchy so keep trying.
‘Tom,’ Alice said. ‘Can that wait? Let’s go. I want to see the lake up close. It has a lot of memories for me.’
He closed his laptop. Alice had a strange, faraway look in her eyes. This place was obviously special to her for reasons he didn’t understand. He could ask her more about it later.
‘Coming,’ he said.
Alice
She was surprised how many memories the walk by the lake had evoked. It was all so clear to her: she could almost take herself back to the day she had been here. It was as though no time had passed at all.
