The Bridal Party, page 7
At the bottom was a short description.
You are the Jester, the trickster. Everyone believes you to be innocent; your hands are always clean of drama or intrigue. You are known to comment on the plot; you do not instigate it. But underneath it all, you may be one of the most dangerous and potent characters. You are the smokescreen, the diversion. While you play and dance, you cover up for plots of murder and lies …
A blaze of discomfort and unease fired up inside Nada.
Is it supposed to be insinuating something? About me and my life?
But she didn’t have time to think about it any longer. Clarisse was moving towards the door, holding the drawing of her costume aloft.
‘Come on then, girls. Let’s get ready, then all meet back down here in half an hour.’
She looked about the room, and the teacher persona was there again, commanding, controlling.
‘And when we reconvene, we are all going to have fun.’
Twelve
Nada stood in front of the mirror dressed in the jester costume.
They’d all gone to their separate rooms to change, and the house seemed strangely quiet. Nada had got used to the pulse of the music over the past couple of hours, and its absence felt like a vacuum. Her worries and anxieties were surfacing, rushing up to replace the silence.
It was hard to shake off the sense that this murder mystery was perverse, wrong. The suggestion, true or not, that the house they were staying in used to host parties for immoral, debauched aristocrats left a peculiar taste in her mouth. It made her glance around at the walls of each room she stepped into and wonder what they had been witness to.
Above all, she could not shake the feeling out of her head that they were being watched. What with the notes left in Clarisse’s bedroom, and the swapping of the costumes, it seemed like someone was manipulating them from afar, poking and prodding them. Forcing them into a game they did not want to play. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that the movement she’d seen outside could have been a real person; perhaps someone from the murder mystery company surveying them, seeing how they would react.
She shuddered. Just to think of it sent a squirm of discomfort through her.
This is all intentional, she told herself. It’s supposed to feel creepy. We’re supposed to feel like prey, like the Wicked running through the trees. It’s part of the experience.
She tried to comfort herself with the fact that when the actors showed up, the ridiculousness of the evening would be exposed. Surely, once they were faced with a bunch of over-acting drama-school rejects, the whole experience would become a farce, leaving them to wonder why they’d worried in the first place.
But until then, it seemed deadly serious, and wholly unfunny.
Nada felt uncomfortable, but surprisingly it was not because of the costume itself. It fitted her well; the skirt that ended in lots of strands finished just below her knees, like most of the skirts she wore, and the top was a good fit around her shoulders. Either it was luck, or Tamsyn had guessed her size and passed on the information to the murder mystery company.
But while it was comfortable enough to wear physically, she had a hard time looking in the mirror and seeing herself dressed up like this. She’d bunched up her dark hair and perched the hat on top, and the whole thing seemed not just false … it seemed mocking. Had Tamsyn planned to give her, easily the quietest and most reserved of the group, the role of the jester? Was it supposed to be a sort of role reversal? Nada had taught some Shakespeare texts at school, and the jester character had always seemed so irritating to her: contemptuous of everything and everyone, not having any values, not standing up for anything apart from himself. Every line was a jibe, a trick, or worse, a distraction. There were some foul plots and conspiracies in those stories, and the jester always seemed to dance and sing in the face of them, uncaring.
Looking at herself in the mirror, dread started to churn in Nada’s stomach. Was she going to be expected to perform? To tell jokes, to dance and sing? Because if that was the case, then she was going to be extremely uncomfortable, caught between trying to please Clarisse and her own sense of shame and embarrassment. This was part of the reason she hated dressing up in general: the look-at-me attention you received; the suggestion that your own skin and clothes weren’t enough if you wanted to have real fun.
That just being yourself was a disappointment.
She followed the contours of the costume with her fingers, as if trying to convince herself that it was real; that the person staring back at her from the mirror was really her. She traced the strands of the red and black skirt between her fingertips, then along the sleeves, then finally up to the hat, with its horns stretching into the air like antlers.
She thought about what the parchment had said about her character, and it bounced around her mind as she peered at the mockery in the glass.
You are the Jester, the trickster. Everyone believes you to be innocent … You are the smokescreen, the diversion … you cover up for plots of murder and lies …
She pondered the words, going over them again and again. Could it be that this costume had been chosen for her not because it didn’t fit with her personality, but because it did? Did Tamsyn think of her in that way, as someone who appeared more innocent than they were?
Surely it couldn’t be a reference to Clarisse, and the rupture Nada had caused between her and Noah?
No. Stop it. That past no longer exists. It’s dead. It’s not important or relevant to anyone.
‘Well, don’t we look like a pair of idiots.’
Gaia was in the doorway, dressed in her regal outfit. Infuriatingly, she made it look good. It was easier for her; she, after all, did not have to wear a terrible hat. And yet Nada had to admit to herself that Gaia looked good in pretty much anything; her slim frame and striking features seemed to bring out the best in whatever she wore.
‘Me more than you,’ she said. ‘What on earth is this hat?’
‘Ditch the hat if you don’t like it,’ said Gaia. ‘No one is forcing you to wear it.’
‘It’s part of the costume.’
‘Yeah, given to you by a stranger who went through your bag.’
‘It’s not about that, though, is it?’ This came out defensive, sulky even. Nada hadn’t quite meant it to sound that way, and she paused, frowning. Why did I say it like that?
Gaia sighed, and, crossing the room, sat on Nada’s bed. She peered forward, craning that long, slender neck of hers, and looked out of the window. Outside, the wall of trees was silhouetted against the last glimmers of dusk.
Nada returned to the mirror and adjusted the hat again, attempting to tuck every strand of hair inside it, trying in vain to make it look presentable. She knew that Elena and Clarisse were going to take hundreds of pictures, no matter how uncomfortable everyone was in their outfits.
Gaia finally turned away from the window, and the two friends stared at each other in the mirror, both looking like they belonged somewhere altogether different: a fancy dress party back in London, perhaps.
‘You may not be as angry about this whole luggage thing as I am,’ offered Gaia. ‘But you’re still a bit angry, at least. If you’re going to wear the hat, it’s for Clarisse’s sake. So she can have her perfect hen do. Right?’ The words were laced with scorn.
‘Well yes, actually, I do want her to have the perfect hen do,’ replied Nada. ‘Or as close as possible, given that her best friend and maid of honour isn’t here. Is that so weird?’
‘You know as well as I do that there’s no such thing as perfect for Clarisse. Something is always wrong, or at least not good enough. This whole weekend could have gone without a hitch and she’d still have ended up crying over something. When your standards are so impossibly high, well, the world tends to let you down, doesn’t it?’
Nada grimaced. ‘How can you say that? After everything she’s been through, after what happened with Noah—’
‘Nada, that was years ago. She’s with James now, thank God. Someone who’s actually a decent, wholesome bloke who ticks all the boxes.’
Nada frowned and went back to adjusting her hat and assessing herself in the mirror. ‘You’re being harsh. Insensitive.’
‘Am I? Or is it just that I won’t let what happened to Clarisse in the past make me cower and fawn over her? All she does is suck it up and demand more. I mean, I love her, but we’re not doing her any favours by acting like she’s the Queen or something.’
‘Acting like she’s the Queen? Gaia, it’s her hen do!’
‘But you’ve been mollycoddling her for years now. Clarisse trumps everything else for you: we can’t offend her, can’t upset her … I’ll be honest, it drives me mental sometimes. Today, someone has done something highly illegal and stolen our stuff, and we’re not even telling her in case it might upset her! Doesn’t that seem mad to you?’
Nada didn’t answer.
‘Seriously, Nada, I’m sorry if I’ve gone too far, but what are we protecting her from? Is it herself? The fact that she’ll make a scene and think that no one loves her and no one cares? Because the way this evening is going, that’s going to happen anyway—’
‘There’s more to it, okay?’ Nada suddenly snarled, then, seeing that the door to the hallway was ajar, repeated herself in a quieter voice. ‘There’s more to it.’
The moment hung there, hesitant. Nada never spoke like that; it wasn’t like her to lash out. Gaia’s eyes widened in surprise. Regret flooded through Nada, and yet she did not feel able to say anything or apologise. Her anger ebbed; she realised that she was clenching her fists, and she stretched out her fingers, nervously smoothing over her tatty tunic again. As she did so, she caught sight of her ridiculous reflection, and then suddenly all the fury was gone and she bowed her head, overpowered by a kind of helplessness, an admission that the world had gone too far for her to feel responsible for what she did or said.
Gaia frowned, and rose from the bed. With a swish of her dress, she came to join Nada in front of the glass, a hand on her shoulder. ‘What don’t I know, Nada?’ she said gently.
Out of nowhere, tears threatened to swell up inside Nada, and she swallowed them back down. She took off her hat in defeat; underneath, her dark hair was a mess, unruly strands curling this way and that. ‘It’s just that Clarisse gave me everything, you know? My whole life is down to her.’
‘You’ve said that to me before, but I never really understood what you meant.’
‘No, I suppose I tend not to explain it properly. Only Clarisse knows.’
With her hand still on Nada’s shoulder, Gaia gently guided her away from the mirror, maintaining her reassuring grasp as she steered her to perch on the windowsill. Gaia’s face, that eye-catching contrast between sharp, pointed cheekbones and the wavy tangles of her black hair, was framed by the darkness outside.
‘It’s no big revelation,’ Nada said. ‘I guess you’ll have probably picked up pieces of it here and there. To be honest, I gave up trying to explain when I left school, because people didn’t really know what to do when I told them. And the subject always comes up at the wrong times, you know? It’s generally some nostalgic conversation about a TV show I’m supposed to be aware of from our childhood, or some boy band, and if I don’t get the reference then suddenly I’m expected to explain my whole life away. It’s always a mood-killer, you know?’
Gaia waited, encouraging her to continue.
Nada continued. ‘It’s to do with my dad. He came from Egypt and met my mum, and they just fell completely in love. Apparently it was a bit abrupt for both sides of the family, to see them get together and marry so quickly. But they did it, and found themselves a place in London, a long way from both their parents. To forge a new life of their own. I barely have any ties to Egypt now, apart from the odd aunt and uncle, and my name.’
‘It’s Arabic, right?’
Nada nodded. ‘But apart from that, I was basically raised on Marmite and Earl Grey.’ She paused for a breath, then continued. ‘But it all went weird when I was really young. Dad was involved in a car accident and died while they were operating on him. My mum thought that the doctors had messed up his treatment, that they were responsible for his death. It completely screwed with her head – she didn’t trust anyone or anything any more. She became afraid of everything; she even stopped leaving the house if she could help it. She was paranoid about losing me, paranoid about anything happening to me. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV, listen to the radio – even have a phone. We had one computer, and she never let me on it. She didn’t trust anything to do with the world outside; she needed me to exist just for her. While everyone else went out and made friends and had a normal childhood, I stayed there, in her cocoon.’
Gaia placed a comforting hand on Nada’s.
‘It’s okay,’ said Nada. ‘I didn’t really know what was going on at the time. I was so young. I thought it was normal. But it’s made me anxious, I think. I even went to counselling for a while, without telling my mum, of course. I knew that it would kill her if she found out. Not that I got much from it, but at least it helped me see myself clearly. They told me I was very inward-looking. Lacking confidence, because I was so shut off. And they were right. It’s why I still live at home. I didn’t move out when I went to university; in fact, I chose the closest course I could find in London. Home was everything. I’m not sure I even realised what it was like to have a social life.’
She straightened her shoulders and pushed herself to finish. ‘So when I say that Clarisse gave me everything, I mean it. You guys, along with Tamsyn, are my only friends. I don’t have a life outside of the people here. I inherited everything from Clarisse. She gave me a job, a reason to get up in the morning. And what have I given her in return? All that business with Noah—’
‘You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for that.’
‘But I do blame myself. The way I see it, that’s the very least I can do.’
Gaia exhaled slowly, measuring her words. ‘So now what? Are you going to spend your life in debt to Clarisse? Because whatever you give her, she will expect more. I always think there are two kinds of generous people: those who give in kindness, and those who give in order to get something back. Now don’t get me wrong: I love Clarisse. I think she’s a laugh, and a great teacher, and I think she does an awesome job of leading the English department. And she’s generous, for sure. Doing everything for everyone, all the time. But if I was asked what kind of generous person she is, as a friend, I’d know the answer.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The fact is that I’m in debt to her.’
Gaia sighed. ‘That’s really intense, you know that?’
Nada smiled coldly. ‘Thank my mum.’
‘But you realise that friendships aren’t built like that, right? People owing and expecting things from each other? I mean, it doesn’t matter what kind of upbringing you’ve had, you’ve got to understand that relationships like that tend to implode.’
Nada shrugged.
Gaia paused. ‘All I’m trying to say is … you can take off the fucking hat.’
Nada smiled, and failed to suppress a small snort of laughter.
Gaia persevered. ‘You can still be in debt, and all that, but you don’t have to look like a numpty when you do it. God, all this I-can-never-repay-you crap … If it were up to me, I’d have given you a knight’s costume or something.’
This, for some unknown reason, was like a shot of warmth through Nada, and she squeezed Gaia’s hand. ‘Thanks,’ she said. She’d never been compared to a knight before.
Suddenly something caught her attention. This time, there was no mistaking it. Movement outside her window. A shadow among the shadows, creeping between the trees.
‘Look!’ she whispered, pointing outside.
Gaia whipped around and put her face to the window. ‘Who the fuck—’
‘Can you see him?’ asked Nada urgently, trying to peer into the obscurity.
‘Yeah. Probably someone from the company. I’m going to go and give him a piece of my mind.’
Before Nada could say anything else, Gaia had turned from the window, and raced out of the room and down the stairs.
Thirteen
Nada sprang up and followed.
‘What’s going on?’ came a cry from another room as Nada and Gaia crashed down the stairs.
‘There’s someone outside!’ Nada called back. Gaia was taking the steps three at a time. She had been more outraged than anyone by the theft: it was that anger giving her speed now.
The thought briefly crossed Nada’s mind that finding a member of the company might break the illusion of the game; might ruin the sense of unease they had gone to such lengths to create. No one seemed to be enjoying the dread, the confusion – but would it be even less enjoyable once the bubble was burst? Would Clarisse resent the fact that Tamsyn’s plans had been interfered with?
But as Gaia surged out of the front door, picking up her ridiculous skirts as she launched herself onto the gravel outside, the thought dropped out of Nada’s mind as quickly as it had arrived. It would feel so good just to get some reassurance, she thought, some reminder that they were supposed to actually be having fun, rather than enduring the discord and fear that had been created so far.
And wasn’t it possible that this was all part of the plan? That they were supposed to catch the man outside? Given how everything else had been so meticulously calculated, could it be possible that this person had deliberately made his presence felt outside the window?
She hesitated, her breaths quick, her mouth dry. But as she watched Gaia hurtle in the direction of the trees, towards the darkness, she found herself following, at a jog that turned into a run. There was no part of her that should have wanted to go, but she couldn’t leave Gaia alone.
Even dressed as she was, Gaia was incredibly fast, her long strides carrying her swiftly across the grass: it was all Nada could do to trail behind, sprinting as fast as she could.
