The Bridal Party, page 16
‘It must have been difficult,’ she says. ‘Seeing him again, I mean.’
‘We’ve managed to be civil to one another. I’ve never been with him alone or anything: I’m not sure I’d like that. God, when I think that Clari is going to marry him, though …’
Gaia, at the front of the line, stops so abruptly that Nada almost bumps into her. She wheels the torch around, pointing the weak spot of light at the path behind them. ‘Did you guys hear that?’
They go silent and hear it too: footsteps, behind them.
‘What the hell …’ hisses Afreya.
Noah appears out of the darkness, swaying a little, his gait uneven. Gaia raises the torch to his face, and he puts up his arm to shield his eyes from the light.
‘What are you doing here?’ she says. ‘Did you follow us?’
‘I’m just trying to get to Clarisse.’
‘Yeah … by following us.’
He lowers his arm and squints in the torchlight. ‘Would you mind not flashing that in my eyes?’
‘Yes, I would mind, actually,’ comes Gaia’s reply.
He rolls his eyes. ‘Figures. Listen, just let me through, and I’ll get there by myself.’
‘You don’t even know where you’re going,’ Afreya points out.
‘Well I’m sure I’ll find it, won’t I? If you guys can …’
He steps forward, as if going to pass them.
‘You can stop right there,’ says Gaia, blocking the path. ‘Tamsyn told you: you’re not going to where we’ve camped to fuck things up for us. Just turn around and go back. I’m serious.’
He puffs his cheeks in anger. ‘You’re going to tell me what to do, are you? Not fucking likely …’
And with that, he shoves through, pushing her roughly out of the way.
And then it is chaos.
Gaia stumbles, and drops the torch. No one can see anything, but with Gaia yelping, people jump to her support, and then suddenly there is a struggle, a mess of arms and legs. There are shouts, curses.
‘Let go of me!’ Tamsyn shouts in the melee.
Nada goes to reach for the torch, lying on the ground. She hopes to be able to stop this; to calm everything down. The torch is kicked; it spins and circles its beam about like a lighthouse. Then it is underneath a struggle of people, pushing, shoving, holding onto each other for balance. It is like reaching into a scrum.
‘Fuck …’ Noah pants as he is jostled. There is a hard slap; someone – Nada thinks it is Tamsyn – cries out.
As she scrambles for the torch, somebody backs into her and she topples. She is flattened into the hard ground; everyone is holding onto each other, and with one person falling over, it seems that others are losing their balance too.
All of a sudden, there is a bloodcurdling shriek, a war cry.
Nada manages to pick up the torch and spins the light around to the sound.
Tamsyn is driving into Noah, pushing him back. Tripping over something, he stumbles; then, without warning, he topples over the edge and plunges into the void.
Now
Twenty-Three
Tamsyn cast an eye over everyone.
Please, Nada thought. Not me. Let me be quiet, let me say nothing, like I always do.
‘Jester,’ said Tamsyn, and Nada’s heart sank. ‘Do you have any suspicions you would like to raise?’
Nada could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, as though it was pulsing through the thick walls around them. She felt hot, incredibly hot, all of a sudden. There was a lack of air in the room; all the oxygen was being sucked up by the candles and the fire.
‘I would like to talk to the Doctor,’ she said; as her voice came out, it sounded different to her own.
Tamsyn nodded, gestured towards Afreya. Nada did as she was told and turned towards her. And then – nothing. There was nothing to say; all the words were trapped in her throat.
‘You are a doctor, a-are you not?’ she managed eventually. ‘You swore to use your knowledge and heal others as best you can?’
‘I did,’ Afreya answered. She was taking shallow breaths, one after the other; Nada knew that she was terrified, and for all she was desperate not to show it, it was there as clear as daylight.
It was like her consciousness was playing a trick on Nada; reality and fantasy were merging together, and she did not know which was which. Was it Afreya answering her questions, or her character, or both?
She felt an urge to stand up, to scream, to confess to everything. That was how it was going to end anyway, surely? She would have given everything for this excruciating act to end, for the air to be cleared.
But then what would happen? If she confessed … would she be the Wicked? Would she be chased through the forest for her sins?
‘So …’ She searched for the words. ‘You lead a virtuous life, do you not?’
Afreya nodded and steeled herself for the next question.
‘What … what happened when you found the body of the Traveller?’
Afreya’s eyes flickered with fear, and she shifted in her chair. ‘I saw that it was beyond saving.’
Tamsyn intervened. ‘Where was the body?’
Afreya smoothed down her robes nervously, a slight twitch in her lip. ‘By the river,’ she replied.
‘By the river … What were you doing there?’
Afreya swallowed, looked down at her paper. ‘Bringing our horses to drink.’
‘And did you pronounce to all that the body was dead?’
There was a beat.
‘Did you?’
Afreya finally summoned up the courage to answer. ‘I said that the body was dying, that nothing could be done.’
Paul intervened, continuing the interrogation. ‘Are you faithful to your oath, Doctor?’
Afreya tensed. ‘My oath?’
‘Your oath as a doctor. Is it not to help those injured, afflicted? The weak and the infirm?’ He had moved behind her, so close that his tattered robes hovered about her shoulders, the skin of his bare stomach touching the back of her scalp.
Afreya recoiled, leaning forward and closing her eyes. But it was no use; Paul leant forward too and whispered in her ear, ‘Are you faithful to your oath?’
‘I am … I am …’
‘And yet,’ he hissed, jaw clenched as he straightened up, ‘you left a man to die, there by the river?’
She did not answer; after a moment, Paul moved away from her, regaining his place at the head of the table, looking down on them all.
‘There seem to be many people responsible for this death,’ said Tamsyn. She swallowed, clearing her throat. ‘But we still do not know who is most responsible. There may have been a dozen ways in which the Traveller was slain.’
She turned to Nada again; Nada’s insides froze. Here it was, the interrogation.
‘Where were you, Jester, when everyone else was drinking at the inn?’
Nada glanced about her, but there was no one who could give her support. Their expressions of fear and confusion reflected how she felt.
‘I was at the inn too.’
‘But not all the time. You were seen coming and going.’
She grabbed the sides of her chair until her fingers became bone white and looked at the parchment in front of her as it guided her towards what she was going to have to say.
‘I went to the Nun’s chambers,’ she replied.
‘To amuse her? To sing and dance for her?’
Nada turned to Clarisse; she was pale, a blank look of horror on her features. It was the face of someone who had just been told that they’d lost a loved one.
‘No …’
‘What, then? What did you tell her?’
It came out unbidden. The words slipped from her lips as if snatched out of somewhere deep inside her. ‘To tell her that I loved her. That I would look after her.’
Tears began to swirl in Nada’s vision. Everything swam in front of her. She wiped them away and looked at Clarisse, urging, pleading with her eyes.
It’s true, she wanted to say. I love you. And I’m sorry.
Clarisse could not process this; her face did not budge an inch. Only a single tear, pooling in her left eye, betrayed any feeling.
Paul laughed. ‘That you loved her? Why then, Jester, did you slip back out of her chambers when she fell asleep?’
Nada put her face in her hands, trying to block it out, trying to pretend that it was all a bad dream, that nothing was real.
‘Why? Where were you going?’ His face was close to her ear; close enough for the rasp in his voice to channel straight into her, booming into her soul.
‘I don’t know, I don’t know …’ she said. ‘Please, just leave me alone.’
‘If you loved her, why did you leave her?’
‘Please, no … I just …’
That was when it came. The question she’d been dreading.
‘If you cared for her, why did you lie with her beloved Traveller?’
Before
They scramble towards the edge and peer over, but the torchlight is too weak to penetrate the darkness. Noah is gone. It is almost a sheer drop; bar a few trees here and there, the slope falls unbroken right down to the stream below.
‘I didn’t mean to …’ Tamsyn gasps, horrified.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ says Gaia. ‘Let’s get out of here before he comes back.’
‘But—’
‘We can talk about this later; we need to go, Tamsyn!’
And with that, they set off along the path once more, stumbling and panting. More than once, one of them trips and falls to the ground. But it does not stop them; adrenaline keeps them going, urges them on.
It is only when they reach the clearing that they stop to catch their breath. The tents, little green bubbles in the grass, are over on the far side; the girls keep their distance so as not to be heard by Clarisse. Afreya takes her phone out and turns it on; the blue glow radiates more widely than the torchlight, and suddenly they can see each other. The last time they saw each other’s faces was in the light of the pub garden; now everyone is sweating, strands of hair plastered to their cheeks, eyes wide with what has happened.
‘I can’t believe it,’ pants Afreya. She looks back into the gloom, as if expecting Noah to materialise behind them once more.
‘Guys …’ says Tamsyn. ‘What if he’s hurt?’
‘Did he hit you, Tamsyn?’ asks Gaia.
Tamsyn pauses before answering. ‘Yes.’
Gaia spits onto the grass. ‘Then good riddance, I say.’
‘What should we do?’ asks Nada, her voice cracking a little. ‘He might be injured.’
‘Well I’m not going to look for him. He can manage by himself, the little shit.’
‘But then what? If he’s hurt, then we’re basically leaving him to die, aren’t we? And if he’s not hurt, what is he going to do? He’ll be able to find the campsite easily enough if he follows the path. And then … well, I don’t know what he’d do to us.’
Everyone looks at each other.
‘Let him come,’ says Gaia. ‘I’m not scared of him.’
‘I am.’ It is Tamsyn who speaks, the words barely audible. Nada looks at her; there is a blaze of red on her cheek where Noah hit her.
‘We can’t just sit here and wait for him to turn up, can we?’ Nada asks, looking around. ‘I mean, can we?’
Afreya sighs theatrically. ‘I don’t know. But I hate the idea of him creeping around, of not knowing where he is.’
‘We can’t … I can’t …’ Tamsyn splutters, then she clears her throat and forces the words out. ‘I can’t just wait for him to get here. You guys don’t understand. He hates me, hates me with everything he is. It’s like he still resents me from all those years ago.’ She touches her cheek, gingerly. ‘If he gets here, he’ll punish me for pushing him off the edge, I’m sure of it. He’ll lose it: he’ll do something horrible. Last time I crossed him, he tried to trap me, ripped up my bag, called me a whore. And that was just for saying no. God knows what he’d do to me now.’
Gaia runs a hand through her hair, considering. ‘We have to tell Clarisse. She needs to know; she’s supposed to be getting married to that shit.’
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried to tell her?’ Tamsyn whispers desperately. ‘Again and again I’ve tried to explain how terrible he is, how much she’ll regret being with him. She won’t hear a thing against him. She thinks that I’m trying to ruin things when she’s finally in a relationship she cares about.’
‘Surely she’ll understand if we all tell her together,’ offers Nada.
‘Tell her what?’ retorts Tamsyn. ‘That I pushed her fiancé off a cliff? That we all then ran away and left him down there? She’ll flip …’
The truth of her words hits home; there is no way Clarisse would forgive them. She wouldn’t understand what it was like to be attacked there in the darkness, with Noah spitting and hitting and shoving them.
‘So …’ Afreya breathes. ‘We have two decisions to make. We need to figure out what to do with Noah, and what to say to Clarisse. She’s going to find out one way or another, so we need to decide what the best course of action is, and fast.’
The weight of what they have to do descends upon their shoulders, and no one says anything.
‘Could we call the police?’ wonders Nada eventually. ‘I mean, we could take a photo of Tamsyn’s cheek: that’s evidence that he attacked us.’
‘Which would be fine, but the last time I had reception was back at the pub. I’m not sure any of us wants to go back that way. And I don’t want to be the one to tell Clarisse that we called the authorities on her fiancé either.’
Gaia intervenes. ‘She’s going to find out what happened anyway. Isn’t it better that she hears it from us?’
Afreya shakes her head. ‘I don’t think it’s going to make a difference either way. She’s not going to take our side, is she? She’ll think that we overreacted, that Noah was only trying to do something nice for her and we messed things up. Noah will twist it so that we’re the bad guys; he can convince her of anything. And then what? Clarisse never talks to us again, and she’s stuck with a maniac who’ll treat her like shit, with no friends to help her. I don’t reckon the police will be much help anyway. Think about it. Sure, Tamsyn’s cheek is tender – but we pushed him off a ledge and left him there. It’s not going to look good for us, is it?’
Tamsyn scowls.
‘I’m sorry Tamsyn,’ says Afreya. ‘But I’m just being realistic here. I’m sure it hurt – and I hate him for what he did – but I can barely see a mark on your cheek any more. He’s going to look a lot worse than you.’
Gaia interjects. ‘Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here? I mean, he might not be hurt. It might be that the police don’t have to get involved; that we can settle this ourselves.’
The words hang in the night air for a moment.
‘What do you mean?’ asks Nada.
Gaia speaks with deliberation, power. ‘I say we go back. I say we go with torches, and knives and sticks too, in case he’s angry. We’ll be prepared; he won’t be pouncing on us like last time. We go and find him; if he’s hurt, we can help him and call an ambulance. If he’s not, maybe we talk to him, get him to see sense. I reckon a fall like that will have sobered him right up. Depending on what happens then, we can decide what to tell Clarisse.’
She lets her words sink in for a moment.
‘You want to go back?’ exclaims Afreya.
Gaia nods. ‘I’d rather go and meet him on our own terms than wait for him to come here.’
‘I don’t want to go back there.’ Tamsyn shakes her head at the idea.
‘All right, you can stay behind if you want to,’ says Gaia. ‘We don’t all have to go.’
Tamsyn considers this for a moment, then says, ‘No. I’ll come with you. I can’t just stay here, waiting for something to happen.’
‘What’s going on?’ Elena’s voice comes from out of the darkness as she walks towards them. ‘I heard you guys whispering.’
‘Is Clarisse asleep?’ asks Nada. ‘Is she in the tent?’
‘Uh, yeah. She’s just nodding off, I think.’
But then, from across the field, they hear: ‘Guys?’
‘Shit, she’s awake,’ says Afreya.
Gaia grabs Nada’s arm. ‘Go and talk to her, Nada.’
‘And say what?’
‘Anything; it doesn’t matter. Give any excuse.’
‘Why me?’ protests Nada.
‘Come on, Nada. We don’t have time for this. You’re good at calming her down, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Then go. Say something to her.’
Anger flares up inside her. ‘I can’t lie to her!’
Afreya steps towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder. The blue glow from the phone paints her in corpse-like colours. ‘You might have to.’
The words gives Nada a twist of discomfort, but she does not respond; does not dare to. She turns and strides across the field, heading towards the tent that she, Clarisse and Gaia are sharing.
She unzips the flap and clambers in. Clarisse’s voice is weak, sleepy; muffled by the sleeping bag. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything is fine. You can go to sleep, Clarisse.’
Clarisse rolls over in her sleeping bag; it makes a swishing sound as she turns to face the other way.
‘I’m sorry I headed back early. Those drinks went straight to my head. I was so tired …’ She is on the border of sleep again.
‘That’s fine. You don’t have to apologise.’
‘Noah and I had such a big fight, you know, last night. It was so messy. I barely got any sleep.’
‘Well you can rest now. You’ll feel better tomorrow.’
Clarisse does not respond; for a moment, Nada thinks she has fallen asleep. But then, out of the drowsiness, comes more. ‘It’s so amazing when it’s good, me and Noah. But when it’s bad … it’s intense. You know.’
Nada feels a surge of pity. She’s been told this before, about how ‘intense’ everything is with Noah. It is only tonight, after seeing what he did on the path, that the word gains its full meaning. It means hurtful. Abusive.
