Nada grimaced. She didn’t like the idea of going around accusing them by herself. ‘I could have the drink instead, if you want.’

  Gaia shook her head. ‘Babe, if you start drinking now, you’ll be out by four.’

  Nada nodded. It was true: she was a self-confessed lightweight.

  ‘Let me know who’s responsible as soon as you can, though, because they deserve a slap,’ Gaia said, her eyes simmering with anger.

  A shriek of excitement came from outside. Nada and Gaia walked to the front door and were met with a wall of sound.

  ‘You guys – this is amazing!’

  This was Afreya, the natural leader of the group. She tended to talk in exclamations, the kind of person who couldn’t help but be loud: just her laugh was enough to send a whole train carriage tutting. Her gregariousness had a tendency to put Nada on edge – especially if they were in a public place – but there was also something admirable about her display of confidence, how she dared everyone she met to accept her as she was.

  ‘Pat on the back for Tamsyn!’ she said now, gazing at the view from the gravel courtyard with her hands on her hips.

  Afreya’s entrance was enough to liven up the atmosphere immediately. Even her clothing – a dress patterned with her usual mix of bright block colours – seemed to encourage celebration. Her arms tended to be spread out, often curled around someone’s shoulders; one of many ways in which she effortlessly seemed to bring people together. But the reference to Tamsyn was a mistake: it caused a moment of sadness to flit across Clarisse’s face. Afreya didn’t notice, too busy spinning around and taking in her surroundings.

  It was funny; Nada would never stop puzzling at the way in which Clarisse could be steely and strong in some situations, and so vulnerable in others. At work, she never baulked at confrontation and was never afraid to be disliked; but the slightest wobble in her relationships with friends or her fiancé could bring her out in tears. The mention of her absent maid of honour tightened her lips into a pale line.

  Afreya came forward and wrapped her arms around Clarisse, and before Nada knew it, she too was whisked into some strange three-way embrace. ‘Guys, this is going to be fun,’ roared Afreya, and the closeness of her voice made it all the louder, making Nada wince. Despite herself, Clarisse was giggling again; the situation was saved.

  ‘What took you so long?’ asked Gaia, her eyebrow arched in suspicion. Gaia and Afreya tended to get on like a house on fire: when Gaia was in the right mood, she could match Afreya’s gregariousness easily. The question seemed blunt; aggressive, even. Perhaps it was because Nada was aware of how angry her friend was, but it seemed to cut across the air of excitement like a knife.

  Getting Gaia to keep a lid on her feelings was going to be even harder than Nada had thought.

  ‘We got lost, didn’t we? I swear there are only about five roads on this whole island, but we still managed it!’ said Afreya with a cackle, oblivious to Gaia’s accusing tone.

  ‘Plus Afreya wouldn’t leave until we’d bought the whole shop.’ Elena, the last member of the group, was standing a way off, still hanging back by the car.

  The two new members of the bridal party could not have made more contrasting entrances. While Afreya had galloped towards them and embraced everyone, Elena had kept her distance in order to fire up a cigarette. She looked at them all, and at the house, with a cool, detached curiosity, a curl of smoke trailing from her fingers, her features masked by unnecessary sunglasses.

  ‘She got a little carried away,’ she added.

  ‘Too right I did!’ exclaimed Afreya. She rushed back across the gravel and opened the boot: inside were an impossibly large number of shopping bags, filled with bottles of spirits, boxes of wine, and frozen pizzas. ‘Don’t know about you guys, but I plan on eating and drinking my ass through the weekend.’

  Elena and Afreya were both friends from Clarisse’s childhood: they’d all been to an international school in Luxembourg, and still had that strange, floating accent. Afreya’s voice in particular seemed to transform depending on who she was speaking to. It was perfectly British when she spoke to Nada, and yet it seemed to morph into something else whenever she was with Clarisse, Tamsyn or Elena. Born in Ghana, she’d grown up moving from country to country every few years, uprooted whenever her father’s work demanded it. Nada had often wondered about the fact that both she and Afreya had had lonely childhoods without an established group of friends. Yet while for Nada it had resulted in distance and nervousness, for Afreya it had seemed to have the opposite effect: she cherished and embraced those around her, inviting close friendships with most people she met.

  ‘Don’t forget what’s planned for tonight, though,’ Elena interjected, leaning against the car and taking a long drag from her cigarette. Elena lived in London like the rest of them, but her Frenchness could be identified by her adherence to a few key stereotypes: skinniness, chain-smoking, and her impeccably stylish uniform of black clothes.

  ‘Why – what is planned for tonight?’ asked Clarisse. She was smiling, enjoying the secrecy. It seemed to make the whole thing feel like a proper hen do.

  Gaia and Nada glanced at each other, then studied the others to see their reaction. They were all very close, the international school crew; could they have gone through the bags together? Somehow it seemed a strangely tribal thing to do, drawing a line in the sand between childhood friends and colleagues when they’d all known each other for years.

  ‘You haven’t told her yet?’ asked Elena, eyeing Gaia and Nada with a raised eyebrow, her features framed with wisps of smoke

  ‘We wanted to wait until you guys got here and unpacked,’ answered Gaia a little flatly. ‘That way we could surprise her together.’ She was being much too obvious for Nada’s liking, returning Elena’s gaze with barely disguised suspicion.

  This was getting awkward.

  ‘Well, get yourselves settled then, so we can make a start!’ exclaimed Clarisse. She motioned towards her dress and heels. ‘I’m ready; just waiting for you!’

  They all began to unpack the food and supplies, apart from Elena, who said that she needed to finish her cigarette. They lined up bottles of red wine on the kitchen counter and loaded up the shelves of the fridge with mixers and a few beers and ciders. Then they stood around the kitchen table for a while, chatting about how great the accommodation was, and asking each other whether anyone had heard from Tamsyn.

  Clarisse seemed to be in a much better mood than before. Conversations about how much fun they were going to have and jokes about how much they were going to drink seemed to be safe territory, and she was acting like everything was exactly how she’d hoped.

  It’s easier when there are more of us, Nada thought. Easier to make everything feel like a party when they were surrounded by booze and people. Before, Tamsyn’s absence had seemed like a void. Now there was enough laughter and commotion to fill it up, especially with Afreya’s barking laughter in the mix.

  She soon grew impatient, however. She wanted the whole ordeal of the bags to be done with, resolved. She waited for the others to go upstairs so she could talk to them, tapping the kitchen counter with her fingers.

  Luckily, Gaia was there to speed things up. Once there was a lull in the conversation, she said: ‘All right, girls, why don’t you go and settle in. I’ll make sure there are cocktails ready for when you get back down!’

  There was a chorus of agreement, and they went to collect their bags.

  ‘Before we go – is there Wi-Fi here?’ asked Elena.

  It was no surprise that she was the one to ask first. While she was perpetually grumbling and complaining about her life and career, her social media feeds were constantly updated with photos of perfection and sunny smiles. As a struggling actress, she claimed that a social media presence was necessary to boost her profile, but Nada knew that there was more to it. Out of all of them, Elena depended on the likes and comments to buoy her up, to paper over her disappointments. She never posted about having to work as a waitress, or failing auditions; looking at her feed, one would think that her life consisted of glamorous restaurants, cocktails and holidays. Nada knew that a house like this was perfect Instagram fodder for her, another brick in a facade of wealth and success

  ‘We can’t log on to it – maybe you guys can try?’ she suggested.

  Everyone pulled their phones out, and the conversation went quiet for a moment, but it was no use. Something was clearly wrong with the internet.

  ‘There’s a number to call in the folder,’ suggested Gaia. ‘I can’t get any reception, but I’m guessing it’s okay to use the landline. Maybe we could give the owners a ring later, ask them how to reboot it?’

  They agreed, and the newly arrived pair filed up the stairs, leaving Gaia, Nada and Clarisse in the kitchen.

  ‘Right – music!’ Gaia said, clapping her hands together. ‘Let’s get in the mood while we rustle up these drinks.’

  Clarisse whooped.

  Gaia threw Nada a look. ‘Nada, I brought some little speakers – could you go and get them, please?’

  ‘Got it,’ said Nada, and reluctantly left the kitchen, her footsteps slow with dread at the idea of confronting Elena and Afreya.

  When she reached the landing, she paused. Before her was a stretch of doors and rooms, the various compartments of the house filled with people, with anxieties and secrets. The place was fuller now, but it still somehow swallowed up human presence. They were enveloped by its thick walls, its long, stretching corridors.

  It occurred to her that she was leaving Clarisse and Gaia to pretend to each other that everything was fine, like they weren’t both worried about something. How many others here were pretending that everything was okay, when inside they knew something was wrong?

  Six

  Nada headed towards the sound of the two girls. They were in Gaia’s twin bedroom, still deciding who was going to going to sleep there and who was going to take the smaller room.

  Stepping towards the door, Nada could feel her breathing quickening.

  She hated confrontation. She always had. In her lessons, students often lashed out, said things that were designed to be hurtful, and she’d never got used to it. No matter how she rationalised it – the students were young, had issues, it was nothing personal – their words still hurt. She sometimes lay awake at night dissecting her lessons, analysing what had gone wrong, and wondering whether other teachers did the same.

  Much as she hated it, though, these international school friends had to be told that a boundary had been crossed. That whatever they were playing at, it was causing tension.

  How would Gaia approach this? she wondered briefly. Unbidden, the image of the painting in the living room floated into her mind: Herodias, coming forth out of the sky to slay the witches.

  That would be Gaia, she thought. Slaying witches.

  Gaia had, for a while, been more of a colleague than a friend. She was in the maths department at school, and though they used to bump into each other at the pub on Fridays, they’d never met up socially. But one night the school had put on a big do to celebrate the results of an Ofsted inspection, and Nada had found herself embarrassingly tipsy from the glasses of Prosecco that had been thrust into her hand. Clarisse had not taken any notice, too busy making sure everyone else in the English department was having a good time, so Gaia had stepped in to take care of her.

  ‘God, I feel so drunk,’ Nada had slurred. ‘I can’t believe I let myself get like this, with the head and the senior leadership team around and everything.’

  ‘We’ve all been there,’ Gaia had commented cheerfully. ‘In fact I’m pretty fucking merry myself. I think I’ve put my foot in it with the vice, or enough to make things awkward for a term or two. Do you want to get out of here?’

  From then on, a friendship had developed quite naturally. Nada got on well with Clarisse, but there was always some sort of barrier of pretence between them, making her feel different or inferior. With Gaia, however, it was like she could stop judging herself, like they were all bumbling along together, aiming to be good teachers and comfortable with the fact that they would forever miss the mark.

  Gaia had clear morals; she was someone who was loyal and attracted loyalty in others. Once she and Nada had become close, Clarisse had got to know her as well. In Gaia’s presence, Clarisse was different: more relaxed, less proud. Suddenly she acted as if her job wasn’t so important, and she was readier to criticise the school. Nada had begun to feel comfortable at work for the first time. She now had a group of colleagues who were there for her, for every lesson that went wrong, for every time the marking got overwhelming. People who could tell her when she was stressing too much, and when she needed to prioritise what was important.

  So be like Gaia, she told herself now. Don’t beat around the bush.

  She took a breath, and stepped into the room.

  The girls turned to her, looking expectant. Already this was the sort of situation Nada hated.

  ‘Hey, Nada,’ said Afreya. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Listen, um, I just wanted to say … well done. You really got us. But it kind of freaked us out, so … I just thought I could have a word with you about it, if that’s all right.’

  Afreya turned to Elena. ‘Do you know what she’s talking about?’

  Elena shook her head, her expression baffled, almost to the point of amusement. ‘Not a clue,’ she said.

  Nada faltered a little. They looked so convincing. ‘The bags? The costumes?’

  Elena made a face and looked at Afreya. ‘Nope. Still nothing.’

  ‘But one of you, at least, must have gone through the bags.’

  Afreya stepped forward. ‘Okay, I’m just going to stop you there, because you’re starting to put me on edge here. Just tell us what’s going on, Nada.’

  This wasn’t right. If none of them had done it, then who had? One of them must be lying, but it was impossible to see who. Afreya looked concerned, like there was a situation she needed to resolve for the sake of the group. Elena looked like she was being accosted by a madman on the street.

  Which is exactly how I must look.

  ‘Guys, check your bags,’ Nada said. ‘Check your costumes for tonight.’

  ‘My costume? Why?’ said Elena, suddenly treating the situation with a degree of gravity. She picked up her suitcase, placing it on the bed and unzipping it, then started to rummage through it. Nada suspected that Elena would have the most elaborate costume of everyone, that of all the party she’d be the most excited about dressing up and showing off her acting skills. ‘Look, Nada can’t you just tell us—’ She stopped abruptly, and was still for a second, before muttering: ‘C’est quoi ce bordel!?’

  She turned back to Nada and Afreya and held it up: a costume that consisted of a beige front-opening bodice with an attached skirt, a shirt to wear underneath, and a capuchon.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ she shrieked.

  ‘A medieval peasant,’ replied Nada grimly.

  ‘You didn’t pack that?’ asked Afreya.

  ‘No, of course not!’ Elena said, as if offended. ‘Putain de merde …’

  The next few minutes were a kerfuffle as Afreya began to go through her own bag in a panic, checking to see what been disturbed. Nada breathed deeply, trying to keep her cool even though her heart was pounding. Study them, she told herself. Look for signs – one of them must be lying. Could this be a very convincing performance on Elena’s part? Was she trying to manipulate them all?

  But she could not detect the hint of a lie, of artifice. Both Elena and Afreya’s reactions seemed to be genuine, with the same rush of panic she herself had felt just half an hour ago; that vile feeling that a stranger had been through your private, personal things.

  Afreya took out a dark bundle and unravelled it. At first, no one could tell what the costume was supposed to be: it consisted of long black robes and a black hat. It was only when she found a white mask with a pointy beak that it became clear that it was a plague doctor.

  Afreya and Elena began to talk in shaky voices, Elena’s eyes shining with the beginnings of tears. They spoke over each other, barely listening to what the other had to say, going through all the thoughts that had passed through Nada’s mind when she’d first opened her bag. Who would do this? Who had access to the bags? What kind of a sick joke is this?

  Nada tried to focus; tried to drown it all out. No one is admitting to it. So what does that mean? Either someone else is responsible – or someone is lying. Or perhaps they both are, keeping their act up because the prank isn’t over yet.

  ‘Wait a second,’ she said, cutting across their anxious discussions. ‘Afreya – weren’t you supposed to bring Clarisse’s costume as well?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Afreya. She smoothed down her colourful dress nervously. The room fell silent, everyone’s gaze drawn to her bag.

  Weird, thought Nada. Weird that she didn’t remember that herself – and even weirder to see her look scared.

  Afreya reluctantly stepped towards her suitcase and began to go through the contents. Then she exhaled, and brought another costume out: a bundle of black and white, and a necklace with a cross.

  ‘A nun’s costume,’ she said. ‘This is the one I brought for her.’

  ‘So that one hasn’t been touched, at least,’ said Nada. ‘I suppose that’s something.’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Afreya. She was about to stuff the costume back in her luggage when Nada noticed something.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Hold it up.’

  Afreya slowly did so, shaking out the costume so they could see it properly. The black and white habit dropped down in front of them, and Nada gasped.

  It was indeed a nun’s outfit – but it had dark red-brown stains all over it. Marks that looked remarkably like …

  ‘Blood,’ Nada breathed.

  Seven

  Cheerful music murmured through the walls and windows, deadened to just a series of beats. Elena and Nada stood outside in the courtyard, where the sounds were overpowered by the shifts in the wind, rustling sheets of leaves in the woodlands beyond.

 

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