The Bridal Party, page 9
He isn’t here. He can’t be.
‘Listen, before we go,’ said Gaia. ‘I realise that you told me some important stuff about yourself up there in your bedroom, and I didn’t really have time to respond. Once this evening’s done, and we get a moment, I’m happy to talk it over if you want to. I don’t want you to think that I don’t care. We just got interrupted, you know that, right?’
‘I know,’ Nada said, and it was true – but that didn’t stop Gaia’s words from being good to hear.
‘Come on then.’ Gaia took her hand. ‘Let’s find a way to get back up this hill.’
It was a slow scramble; without the rush of adrenaline, it was difficult to make their way in the dark, especially with their cumbersome costumes. But soon the squares of light from the house’s windows were winking through the branches, and they gratefully came out onto the lawn.
Afreya and Elena stood there, dark forms in the patches of light, already dressed in their costumes for the night. They made for a strange picture, and it took Nada a moment to decipher who was in front of her. Their shapes were distorted, wrong somehow, and in the weak illumination it seemed like the voices of their friends did not match their bodies. For a heartbeat, Nada saw what the Wild Hunt would have looked like to Lockday’s guests: a parade, a carnival. A fantasy, here on an island already removed from their everyday lives.
‘What happened?’ asked Afreya.
‘Where’s Clarisse?’ Nada interjected; the hen was the only one not present.
‘Her room is at the end of the hall,’ offered Elena. ‘Maybe she didn’t hear you guys run out.’
‘We made a lot of commotion chasing after you,’ said Afreya. ‘I’m guessing she just didn’t want to come out yet because she wasn’t ready. Or she thinks we’re preparing something for her.’
‘In any case, she’s not here,’ Elena declared; she’d always had a knack for closing a conversation so she could turn it in the way she saw fit. ‘We can talk.’
They both turned to Nada and Gaia, waiting for an explanation.
‘We saw someone outside the window,’ Nada explained. ‘So we rushed after him. We figured it could be someone from the murder mystery company, and we wanted to ask him about what was happening, but he ran off into the woods.’
‘As if things weren’t fucking creepy enough,’ said Elena. ‘What was he doing hanging around the house while a bunch of women get changed?’ She shuddered, and compulsively fished through her pockets for a cigarette.
Nada felt an inkling of gratitude. For all Elena’s negativity and self-pity, it was comforting to hear someone voice their fears. For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to what she had said to Elena earlier.
The next weird thing that happens, I’m taking the car and we’re going to the police. There was something consoling about the idea of going to fetch the authorities. To give up their show of strength and let others intervene in whatever weird game this was. Just to get away from the house would be a relief; Nada had barely seen the island, having driven straight from the airport. For all she knew, there was nothing there but hills and woods and faraway cliffs. She felt an urge to drive into town, to see restaurants and cafés and everything else that civilisation should have; to get away from these grounds and the walls of darkness surrounding them.
It was only their loyalty to Clarisse that stopped them from leaving. Was Gaia right – were they trying to protect her too much?
‘Did you catch him?’ asked Afreya.
‘Gaia almost caught up with him, but …’ Nada hesitated, ‘but he got away.’
‘Did you see him, though? What did he look like?’
Gaia was about to speak, but Nada intervened. ‘It was dark. He was a long way off.’ Her tone was far too insistent; her panic, rising again, had made her betray herself.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded Afreya.
‘I got ahead of myself. Scared Nada in the process.’ It was obvious that Gaia was talking through gritted teeth; that she did not think she’d made a mistake at all. That she knew very well what she had seen. It was unlike her to apologise or admit that she had done something wrong, and the idea of doing it now, in front of Afreya after their confrontation in the kitchen, was probably infuriating. ‘I told her that the man looked like Noah.’
There was a moment as the others processed this.
‘The Noah? As in …’ Afreya considered how to phrase it. ‘Clari’s ex?’
‘Yeah,’ said Gaia. ‘But like Nada said, I was too far away to see him properly. I probably just imagined it.’
If Nada could have looked at Afreya and Elena and studied in minute detail their facial expressions, she would have. In the darkness, however, all she could see in their reaction was stillness. It was like they had been frozen, as still as the trees spearing up into the sky behind them.
What’s going through their minds? How are they reacting to the news?
Noah had disappeared from their lives years ago. He’d always talked about how he was going to return to Asia; how he was going to find some isolated spot in Cambodia and live the rest of his days in peace. It had been one of his common refrains, one of the ways in which he’d dismissed London and their lives there. The suggestion that everyone else should just live the way he did, and ship off to the other end of the world, had always been something that Nada had found distasteful. Another sign of his easy, wealthy background, where there were no family members or money issues to tie him down. His condescending tone implied that she had somehow had power over her own life when in fact there had been no choice at all. Not that he would ever be able to realise something like that: the only existence he recognised was his own.
Although he had always spoken of his departure with utter seriousness, no one had ever quite taken him seriously. The words had not made sense, as everyone knew that he had proposed to Clarisse, that he had been desperate to marry her. Where, Nada had thought, did Clarisse fit into this life plan?
She had made a point of looking over at Clarisse whenever Noah made his habitual speeches about how unhealthy it was to live in London, how he was going to get out of the rat race and move to Cambodia. She had always noticed Clarisse give a little twitch, or suddenly become distracted. For there to be a future imagined without her irked her.
In one of those arguments the girls had been witness to, outside the pub and shrouded in cigarette smoke, Gaia had overheard Noah say, ‘I don’t need any of this. You know what, Clarisse, one of these days I’m just going to leave. Get up and go. You won’t hear any more from me, because I’ll be on the other side of the world. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
So when, after a particularly bad argument one day, he’d disappeared, everyone had thought that he had done exactly what he had threatened for so long, and left the country. Clarisse, wild with worry, had contacted what few friends and family he had; none of them had had any idea where he’d gone. She’d even contacted the police. They had done what they could and filed a report, but it had led to nothing; Noah wasn’t a UK citizen, having grown up in Luxembourg, and he had led such a nomadic adult life that he wasn’t officially registered as a resident anywhere. When she’d admitted to them that he’d often threatened to vanish, they had almost immediately become convinced that he’d just taken off, and the trail had gone cold remarkably quickly.
It had been a long year after that. Until then, Nada had never quite realised just how much her existence revolved around Clarisse, but here was the evidence: with Clarisse in a perpetual state of anxiety and regret, Nada’s own social and work life had become unbearable. With an emotionally volatile boss, and all meet-ups outside of work descending into tears and consolation, it had become lonely.
Clarisse had, understandably, been devastated by Noah’s disappearance, wondering what she should have done differently, whether he would have stayed if she’d been a better girlfriend. It had been a severe blow to her confidence, and it had taken her a long time before she’d started dating again.
Elena cut across Nada’s spiralling thoughts with a wail. ‘I can’t take this,’ she said, her anxiety bringing out her French accent once more. ‘Noah? Here? This is just too much …’
‘Noah isn’t here. He can’t be,’ said Nada defiantly.
‘Well I’m off. I’m heading to the police.’
‘I thought we were trying to keep things together for Clarisse,’ said Afreya.
‘With Noah about?’ retorted Elena. ‘Do you really think we’re going to have a good time?’
‘Noah isn’t here,’ repeated Nada. ‘Can we please stop saying that?’
‘You know, the more I think about it, the more I think Nada’s right,’ Gaia conceded. ‘I couldn’t see the guy’s face well at all; there’s no way that Noah could be here. That would be mad.’ Her support was unexpected. But the more strained the night became, the more Nada could feel the divisions between her and Gaia as colleagues on the one hand, and the school friends on the other.
‘I don’t care,’ said Elena. ‘I’m driving into St Helier, and anyone who wants to join me is welcome.’
‘No you’re not,’ Afreya said, her voice flat.
Elena, taken aback for a moment, responded with anger. ‘I’ll do whatever I want.’
‘But you’re not going to the police. It’s out of the question.’ Afreya let the words sink in, then continued. ‘You’re not thinking straight. If Noah isn’t here, then nothing has changed. Sure, someone was hanging around the house; but given how the murder mystery people have treated us so far, that’s hardly a surprise, is it? And even if he was here, calling the police would be the last thing we should do. It would mean that he’s come to see Clarisse, who’s engaged to another man. And he’s not going to be happy with any of us, given what happened last time we saw him. It’s going to be one fucked-up situation; do you really think the police are going to make things better? If we get them involved, there’ll be no turning back. We’ll be in at the deep end. So no, Elena. You’re not going to the police. We’re sorting it ourselves.’
There was another pause. Nada contemplated the scenario; the police coming to the house, dredging up the past … all because Gaia had thought she saw Noah. As much as she wanted to give up, to tell the police everything and let them deal with it, she knew it wasn’t possible. That getting in touch with them would mean reliving the mistakes of the past; reopening a wound that had only just begun to heal.
She felt a surge of gratitude towards Afreya, protecting them all from themselves like a mother with squabbling children.
‘Now we need to be careful,’ continued Afreya. ‘Clarisse is watching us …’
Nada turned and looked up at the house. It was true; Clarisse was standing at her bedroom window, dressed in her nun’s outfit and bathed in light. There was something biblical about her, looking down upon them like a painting of God gazing down from the dome of a cathedral.
She tried to read Clarisse’s expression, but could not make it out.
Was it a look of disappointment at the way they were bickering with each other? Was it anger that despite everything she’d done for them, they were letting her down, ruining her perfect weekend?
Or perhaps she was simply curious. Wondering what they were doing down there in the darkness; observing them like they were mice in a maze.
Seeing where they would run next.
Fifteen
With Clarisse looking down at them, no one felt comfortable speaking. All they could do was turn around and walk back to the house, leaving the dark woods behind. There was a sense that the conversation had not been finished; that no one had been able to reply to Afreya. But then it seemed evident to Nada that no matter what was said, Afreya would have the last word anyway. That they were back to where they’d started: trapped inside the house, trying to keep Clarisse happy, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
As they headed towards the light, Elena, who seemed unhappy with how their conversation had ended, lagged behind.
‘Are you okay?’ Nada whispered to her once the others were out of earshot.
‘No.’ Nada liked the way Elena said this; liked the way she did not have the British reflex to insist that she was fine when she wasn’t. ‘I understand what Afreya means and everything … but things are just piling up, you know? When is it going to end? When are we going to say: enough?’
‘I don’t know …’ Nada paused. There was nothing to say. She shared Elena’s sense of distress, and was inwardly grateful to hear someone else voice it.
‘When Afreya wants to, is the answer,’ continued Elena, an edge of bitterness in her voice. ‘I don’t understand why everything has to be done on her terms.’
‘She’s just trying to keep everything together. That’s what she does. We’re all in the same boat.’
‘Afreya isn’t. She’s in a boat of her own. She always is.’
‘She’s scared, like the rest of us. It just comes out differently with her.’
‘You can say that again.’
Nada put on her softest voice, the one she used to console her angry students. ‘But in the end, Elena, it doesn’t matter about Afreya. What’s important is making sure that Clarisse is happy, and that we feel comfortable.’
Elena exhaled and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. It was baffling to Nada how, for smokers, every opportunity had to be taken; even now, as they were heading back to the house, was an occasion for a few precious drags.
‘Don’t judge, okay? I’m stressed out,’ remarked Elena, as if reading her thoughts.
‘Of course.’
Elena closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply and blew smoke into the air. The wisps turned yellow as they passed through the beams of light, then grey again as they drifted back into the gloom. ‘God,’ she sighed. ‘All this for a shitty wedding.’
‘It’s not going to be a shitty wedding,’ said Nada gently. ‘James is lovely; they’ll be so happy together.’
A short, cruel laugh erupted from Elena’s lips, smoke billowing out of her mouth with it. ‘You think so?’
‘Yes.’ Nada had no reason to believe otherwise. James was gentle, friendly, the opposite of Noah. His presence was easy, unassuming; you could forget that he was in the room. Sure, it was a marked departure from Clarisse’s type throughout the years, but Nada had always considered that a good thing; a sign that she’d learnt, after the trauma of Noah, to approach people for their kindness as well as their looks.
Elena gave her a strange look.
‘What?’ Nada said.
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘No … what now?’ Nada felt exasperated. After all that had happened, the fact that James was an uncomplicatedly good and kind man had been a source of relief for her. Was there supposed to be something wrong with him too?
‘I thought Afreya had told you. She was on duty in A&E late one night when she saw James come in with a man. They’d both been drinking, and he had fallen, hurt himself somehow. She said they were pretty close … if you know what I mean.’
Nada frowned. ‘So what, are we saying that James is gay?’
Elena shrugged. ‘That’s the impression Afreya got. I guess she hasn’t told many people; she doesn’t want to spread rumours.’
Nada shook her head. ‘I’m not taking any gossip from Afreya at face value. Anyway, we’ve got enough on our plate; I can’t worry about that right now.’
It was true; there was so much else to think about. The murder mystery and what was going to happen later; the possible appearance of Noah. And yet, unwanted, the thought niggled. What if Clarisse were to be unlucky in her choice of man again? Would she ever recover?
She made an effort to push it out of her mind. They were on the gravel now, in front of the front door. The darkness of the forest was gone; here was light, safety. And as they approached the house Nada could now see clearly what everyone was wearing.
There was an inherently comic aspect to their appearances; a clash between their modern, metropolitan lives and their medieval garb. And yet, just as with Nada, their clothes seemed to be professionally made and to fit almost too well.
First of all, there was Afreya. In some strange way, her robes seemed to complement her character, and even enhance it: she looked even more imposing than usual, befitting her authority in the group. She was not yet wearing the face mask and hat of the plague doctor, but she had a dark ankle-length overcoat and gloves, covering her in black. There was a sense of drama, of power, about her.
The same could not be said for poor Elena. She, perhaps, looked the most like she was attending a costume party. It was not that her dress was badly made, or cheap; indeed, it seemed to be made of material as fine as everyone else’s. But her peasant look was more revealing than the others, leaving much of her shoulders and chest bare, unfortunately reminiscent of a bad Halloween costume.
Nada caught up with the others just as they stepped into the house, Elena hanging behind to finish her cigarette. Afreya was looking at something at her feet.
‘When did they get here?’ she wondered out loud.
Just inside the door, on the floor of the hall, was a small selection of newspaper clippings, all from a paper called Jersey Today. They were lying on the tiles as if pushed through a letter box – although there was none, the post presumably left in a box in the entrance to the grounds.
‘Were they there when we ran out?’ asked Gaia.
‘Not sure,’ answered Nada. ‘We weren’t exactly paying attention.’ She glanced around to see if anyone else felt any different; they all seemed unsure, looking to each other for confirmation.
‘Maybe that was why that guy was here in the grounds,’ Afreya offered. ‘To post these.’ She picked them up and had a quick flick through. They looked genuine, printed on that thin, familiar paper, but a cursory glance at the headlines showed that the stories were all about cults and blood. ‘Looks like it’s part of the murder mystery.’
‘Great. Now we can add breaking and entering to the list of things this weird company does,’ said Gaia. ‘Honestly, where do they get their kicks, these guys? And what possessed Tamsyn to sign us up?’
