The Bridal Party, page 4
Elena sucked on her cigarette, the end glowing like a winking demon. The light was starting to fade, night deepening all around the house. In London, night and day blurred together, but here, with the absence of any artificial light, the difference between the two was startling. Nada shuddered with the cold and huddled into her jacket, studying the curtain of gloom where the lawn ended and the woods began.
Normally, she’d never be the one to step outside into the cold, but there had been an uneasiness about the house that had driven her to join Elena. After the revelation that all the costumes had been tampered with, she’d tried to talk the situation over with Afreya and Elena and figure out what had happened, but the conversation had gone round and round in circles, getting more and more heated as time went by. Unable to find a reason as to why the costumes had been swapped, the three of them had tried to use the landline so that they could get in touch with Tamsyn. But the phone didn’t seem to work either, which also meant that they couldn’t call the owners of the property to try and sort the Wi-Fi out.
At this point, Nada had really started to feel a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. The house was taking on an air of oppression, the once grand halls seeming to encroach upon her, stifling her. It was like, as Elena pointed out, someone had made an elaborate plan to scare them. Which, Nada supposed, was possible. But was Tamsyn capable of going to these lengths, finding somewhere isolated, and ensuring that the communication lines were down?
All of these conversations had occurred in hushed corners, dotted around the house, while Nada had given Gaia the speakers in order to drown them out. Clarisse, as far as anyone could tell, suspected nothing, and was laughing and singing away with Gaia in the kitchen.
Eventually they’d decided to tell Clarisse what was happening. Or at least a portion of it. To say that there was a murder mystery game booked for the evening, and they’d ended up with costumes they hadn’t anticipated. They’d decided to downplay the stains on Clarisse’s costume: no one could tell whether they were real blood or not, but it was generally agreed that they would tell her they’d bought it like that in a Halloween shop
What they hadn’t discussed was the fact that someone in the house was probably in on the joke. That one of them had found a way to replace the costumes and was now just playing a part.
That the game of murder mystery, with its required suspicions and secrets, had, in a sense, already begun.
It was agreed that they all needed a moment to calm down before telling Clarisse, and when Elena had taken the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette, Nada had joined her. She needed to clear her head, to get away from the chatter. Now, here they were, at the close of day, admiring the last light on the hills, the grass, the distant sea.
Elena turned and looked back at the house. They could see Clarisse inside, dancing round the kitchen, possibly already a little light-headed.
‘Look at us, tiptoeing around her,’ Elena said, smoke darting out of her nostrils. ‘We’re all sick to our stomach, worrying, questioning, and yet we can’t face disappointing her. What does that say about us? About her?’
‘That we want to protect her?’ Nada suggested.
‘Or that we’re afraid of her,’ Elena said.
Nada shook her head. ‘Let’s not do this, Elena. We’re all just trying to help. She was so down for so long after …’
‘After Noah, you mean.’
Nada nodded, glad that the topic was left vague. ‘Exactly. After Noah.’
Noah Eversdon, Clarisse’s first fiancé, had disappeared four years ago. Every single one of the girls had hated him, but that didn’t lessen the trauma of seeing Clarisse go through the process of grieving, of cancelling her wedding plans and waiting months and months for him to be found. She had never quite been the same since; she had become more dependent on her friends, more emotionally insecure. Things had improved slightly since she’d met her new fiancé, James, a much gentler man of whom everyone heartily approved. But the damage was irreparable; the Clarisse they knew today was more highly strung, more volatile. Every conversation Nada had with her outside of work seemed to teeter on some precipice, with tears threatening to erupt if you said a word wrong.
‘What do you think will happen, then?’ asked Elena.
‘You mean tonight?’ Nada asked.
Elena nodded.
‘I just don’t know. We’ve got a few hours before the murder mystery actors arrive. Hopefully no more weird stuff will happen before then. I guess we can explain to them that someone took our costumes, and that we want to do it in our normal clothes. I don’t want to wear that jester outfit if I can help it.’
‘Not a fan of dressing-up, are you?’ asked Elena.
Nada shook her head grimly.
‘Frankly, I just want the whole thing to be over.’ Elena looked towards the grey sky, blowing smoke up to join the clouds.
A moment passed before she continued in a tone of sudden certainty. ‘I think Tamsyn signed us up for some freaky shit, and this is all part of it. The house, the costumes, the mystery … I bet it’s all organised by a company whose thing is to scare people on stag and hen dos. We’ll find when they turn up that it’s all been prepared, and we’re going to be doing a medieval-themed mystery. You hear about all kinds of crazy companies that provide these sorts of things if you’re an actor looking for work. They pay you minimum wage to be part of some immersive theatre experience. I never took that shit, though. Too proud, apparently.’ The last words came out as a spit of bitterness.
‘But even if this is some experience we’ve signed up for, would that make it legal? I mean, could they cut off the landline, the Wi-Fi? Could they grab our bags at the airport and steal things from them?’
‘I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud. All I know is there’s all sorts of shit they can get away with if you sign the terms and conditions. Which I guess Tamsyn did.’
Nada shivered. ‘It’s a pretty cruel joke, then. All Clarisse wanted was a nice house, and to get drunk. The last thing she needs is some horror-experience weekend. She’s had enough horror as it is.’
‘No kidding.’ Elena rubbed the end of her finished cigarette on a saucer and turned to face the house again. Clarisse could still be seen giggling in the kitchen. Afreya had come down now, and was putting on a brave face, laughing loudly at something that was being said. Nada could see that both she and Gaia were barely sipping at the drinks in their hands, though; they were still clearly on edge.
‘Nada …’ said Elena.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m not sure I can deal with this.’ The lights from inside the house shone squares of yellow onto Elena’s face; her eyes were watery, swimming. For all her aloof nature, she felt things deeply. She was able to put on a fabulous smile when a camera was aimed in her direction, but she was also just as able to convey a sense of tragedy, to speak openly about how the world seemed to constantly let her down. ‘I can’t help but feel that my costume was given to me for a reason.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m a waitress at a fucking restaurant, Nada. That’s where my pride has got me, after all these years. Who, out of all of us, is the peasant?’ The word ‘peasant’ was uncomfortable on her tongue, the stress falling slightly off in her pronunciation.
Nada had not thought of this. She pondered it, then said, ‘I’m sure you’re reading too much into it.’
She took a moment to study Elena, who was trailing her hair with her fingers, looking into the middle distance, avoiding Nada’s eye. There seemed to be no doubt that she was on edge, her usual sense of poise affected by what had happened. Could this all be an act? Nada wondered. Elena spent so much of her life portraying herself as a victim, asking for attention and sympathy with nothing more than a gesture. And yet this seemed different; as though, for once, she was trying to come across as stronger than she felt. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and her shoulders were slumped. It was a complete contrast to her normally perfect posture, ready to be photogenic at the drop of a hat.
‘I can’t be reading that much into it. Afreya’s a doctor – it isn’t a coincidence that she gets the doctor costume, is it?’
There was a beat. Nada had not considered this.
‘But then … what have I got to do with a jester?’
‘Can’t help you with that. Still, I wouldn’t complain if I were you.’ Elena’s eyes sparkled with sadness. ‘The jester’s normally the best part.’
They both fell quiet, looking at the building gloom.
‘Listen,’ said Nada. ‘Whether it’s just a big joke, or part of some sort of experience that Tamsyn has signed us up to, I don’t care. But the next weird thing that happens, I’m taking the car and we’re going to the police. How about that?’
Elena turned and faced her for a moment, a kind of admiration on her face. ‘That sounds perfect.’
And with that, they made their way back into the house, their feet crackling on the gravel. Just before they reached the door, something caught Nada’s eye: a flitting shadow, there in the woods on the far side of the grass.
She paused for a moment, but could see nothing, then followed Elena inside.
Eight
Music was flooding the air as they entered the house; it was a drunken blare, the volume cranked up in tipsy delight.
For Clarisse, it seemed, the party had started in earnest.
‘You’re here.’ Afreya was standing in the hall, clearly hoping to catch them before they joined the celebrations in the kitchen. Her eyes were serious, stern even. Nada had never seen her like this; Afreya was always the boisterous one of the group, the one happy to articulate whatever was in her mind, even if her unfiltered thoughts often made for light-hearted ridicule. It did, however, make sense that she had stepped forward and sought Nada and Elena out; she was a communicator, someone for whom information and decisions were meant to be shared. Not voicing her thoughts, and keeping others in the dark, was anathema to her.
She motioned them into a corridor just off the hall so they wouldn’t be heard, her curls bouncing a little with the movement.
‘Where are my girls? You guys are taking ages!’ came a shout from the kitchen; the raucous cry of a merry Clarisse. It must seem odd to her how much creeping about the house there appeared to be, as though the others were gossiping servants in her manor.
‘Be right there!’ shouted Afreya.
There was no answer – even with Afreya’s booming voice, it was unclear whether she’d been heard over the music.
The three of them stood there in the corridor for a moment, light from a chandelier in the entrance hall casting magnified versions of their shadows upon the walls.
‘I saw you guys talking outside. Did you have any more ideas about what might be going on?’
‘Elena reckons this might be part of some kind of crazy horror experience that Tamsyn’s signed us up for,’ said Nada, before going on to explain the theory.
Afreya pondered this for a moment. ‘I still can’t see how it wouldn’t be breaking the law, though. I mean, we’re in Jersey; this isn’t Ghana or somewhere, you know what I mean?’
Nada tensed a little. Afreya was proudly Ghanaian. She tended to talk about her parents’ country of origin with glowing and intimate praise. For her to make a disparaging comment like that was suspiciously out of character.
Afreya continued. ‘In any case, whether it’s against the law or not, if it messes up Clarisse’s hen do then we have a duty to stop it. This kind of shit is not what we’re here for. No matter what Tamsyn signed for us, they can’t be going through our things or cutting off our communication. In fact, once this is done, I’m going to shut this murder mystery company down. Let’s see how they like that experience!’ Afreya often spoke in this way; in closed, certain terms. Right now, Nada felt herself appreciating it; it was almost as if she was being placed under Afreya’s protection.
‘Okay, but what do we do now?’ asked Elena. ‘I don’t feel comfortable here, I really don’t. Especially with that costume with the blood; what the hell is that?’
‘Well that’s the thing,’ said Afreya. ‘We all owe Clarisse big-time. We’ve got to make a decision, here and now, as to whether for her sake we’re going to just grin and bear it.’
‘Bear what, though?’ complained Elena. ‘What more are they going to do to us?’
Nada frowned. She felt as though she and Elena had come to some sort of conclusion outside. The decision to go to the police if anything more happened was a comfort, something to cling to. Why was Elena now acting panicked once again? Did she need that extra bit of sympathy from Afreya now that she’d got it from Nada? Or was she going overboard, a step too far in a performance that as yet had not put a foot wrong?
‘Probably nothing,’ replied Afreya. ‘I imagine that when this murder mystery company get here, they’ll probably be a bunch of arseholes. And we’ll realise that we’ve been fretting over what the arseholes did rather than enjoying ourselves. So I say let’s keep our thoughts to ourselves for now, and try and give Clarisse a good night. And if anything does get out of hand, we’ll shut it down.’
‘You and I might have a very different idea of what out of hand means,’ noted Elena bitterly.
‘Afreya’s right,’ Nada said, and they both turned to her. Nada was nearly always quiet in group conversations, so when she did speak, everyone tended to listen. ‘I hate this just as much as anyone else, but I know it’s incredibly important for Clarisse; that she’s been looking forward to this weekend for God knows how long. I’m not comfortable with letting her down.’
They seemed to expect more from her, but she had nothing else to say. Feeling their gaze, she retreated into herself a little, stepping back into the shadows of the hall.
‘Okay, then. That settles it,’ said Afreya, her eyes darkening. ‘Best get ready, girls. However we feel about it, we need to somehow sell this whole nightmare to Clarisse as the perfect hen do.’
Nine
They filtered into the kitchen, opening the door to a wave of music that was even louder than before.
‘Finally!’ cried Clarisse, a drink swirling about in an unsteady hand. She grinned and started theatrically hugging them all. Gaia, behind her, threw Nada a look. What the hell is going on?
Everyone tried to buy into Clarisse’s mood, and switched their looks of concern and worry into smiles and laughter. It was painfully obvious how manufactured it all was. To Nada’s surprise, Clarisse wasn’t actually that drunk. She could tell by her movements, the look of worry that she hadn’t quite managed to banish from her gaze. The whole thing was an act, a way to force a party atmosphere into existence.
Gaia looked relieved that everyone was there. It must have been a strain for her, keeping Clarisse cheerful, having to pretend to get drunk while being completely out of the loop. She didn’t know the half of it, thought Nada grimly.
Clarisse suddenly cried out, ‘Drinks, everyone! Cocktails and pizza for all!’
On the side was an array of glasses filled with what looked like mojito and piña colada, although Nada wasn’t sure.
Gaia took the last pizza from the oven, and now the table was covered in three extra-large margheritas, plus garlic bread and dips. They gathered round, and Elena turned the music down a little. Clarisse shot her an indignant look, but Nada was relieved that it was no longer thudding in her ears and she could hear what the others were saying.
‘A toast!’ announced Afreya, and they all picked up a cocktail. Nada made sure to take a mojito with what seemed like a generous portion of ice.
‘No …’ Clarisse squirmed, blatantly enjoying the hush as everyone focused on her.
‘Yes,’ countered Afreya firmly. ‘I just wanted to say that it feels awesome to be here celebrating your wedding, Clarisse. You couldn’t have picked a sweeter man than James to be your husband, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy. God knows you deserve it. I know that everyone around this table helped you in the bad times … and we’re so happy to be here for the good.’
With that, everyone clapped, and Clarisse put a hand on her heart, communicating how much she appreciated it. Then her smile dropped, and she focused on Afreya again. She was fixated; hanging onto every word. Like she needed every drop of kindness she could get.
‘Now, we know it’s a bummer that Tamsyn couldn’t make it,’ said Afreya. ‘If she’d been here, she would have made a better speech, because she probably would have prepared it months in advance. But in her honour, we’re going to make the most of this amazing house …’ there was a chorus of approval at this, ‘and we’re going to make up for her absence by drinking just that bit more.’
Someone cheered. Elena took a photo, her phone making the fake click of a camera lens.
‘To Clarisse!’ said Afreya, before bringing her glass to her lips and taking a gulp of the mysterious cocktail. Everyone else followed suit. As Nada sucked on the straw in her mojito, it took all her willpower not to make a face; it tasted of rum and little else.
‘Now …’ said Afreya, casting a wish me luck look at the others. ‘We’ve got a surprise for you, Clarisse.’
‘A surprise?’ Clarisse opened her mouth in shock. ‘What is it?’
‘Well—’ began Afreya.
‘We’re not really sure,’ interjected Elena.
‘But we know you’re going to love it, and it’s going to be great fun,’ urged Nada.
She could sense that Gaia was throwing her a look, desperate to know what was going on; she obviously felt like she deserved answers, after keeping Clarisse occupied for so long. Nada ignored it; there was nothing to say to her yet.
‘Tamsyn booked something,’ continued Afreya. ‘We don’t know quite what it is and we think she’s been keeping it secret on purpose.’
‘Oooooh,’ breathed Clarisse.
Nada wrinkled her nose. Where was all the worry about Tamsyn, and her mother? Now that the hen do was under way and Clarisse had had a few drinks, it seemed to have disappeared.
