by Louise Beech
‘Ignore me.’ Chloe shakes her head vigorously. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin your moment. This place spooks me sometimes.’
‘This room is eerie, but I’ll change that.’ Ginger pauses. ‘It’s you,’ she says with a smile.
‘Me?’
Ginger leans forwards and touches Chloe’s face tenderly. ‘You’re a little bit magic. You always were.’
‘Was I?’
Chloe puts a brave hand over Ginger’s. Sparks pulse along the scars on her arm. Didn’t she once feel the same buzz when they put their fingers on that glass all those years ago? Didn’t they call her a witch?
Everything collides; the feelings she had for Jess when they were kids, the intensity of this longed-for moment, the sudden memory of another long-ago moment never grabbed, the sense of power that maybe she is some sort of witch, and maybe she can weave a spell and make Ginger hers at last.
She kisses her. Their tongues touch. Electricity.
Be mine. Chloe sets the rhythm; slow, teasing, patient. Ginger resists at first, then seems to accept it. Be mine. Chloe moves a hand along Ginger’s spine, aroused at the gentle curve of her back, at the way she sighs into her mouth and then moves a little closer. Be mine. Ginger begins to lead, to kiss her back heatedly, to scratch her nails along Chloe’s back; and Chloe follows, just like she always used to.
Ginger stops suddenly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, looking embarrassed.
‘Why? I’m not.’
‘I have to go.’
‘Please don’t,’ says Chloe, realising how needy she sounds.
Ginger rushes from the dressing room without looking back. Chloe is glued to the spot in shock and hurt. She hears the backstage door slam after Ginger. The desire to pull a blade along her flesh, to cut, bleed, release, is intense. She rakes at her scars. Then she looks at herself in the mirror.
‘You’re not magic,’ she says to her reflection. ‘You’re utterly deluded.’
23
The Game
2005
At the end of the next Ouija board session – the three of them playing for the third time, three days after they started, Chloe realised – everything changed.
It began differently too. Chloe had always known Jess was in love with Ryan, but on this night, she arrived not just with him, but with him. Chloe got to the church first and was sitting outside on the front steps, trying to avoid the evening’s searing heat, hoping the building’s shadow and the stone under her bottom would cool her.
She hadn’t intended to come that night. She hadn’t heard from either Jess or Ryan until that morning, when they each texted saying it was time to do it again. Chloe ignored them for hours, wrestling with her longing to see Jess and the dread of seeing them together after their kiss – that steamy kiss that had tormented Chloe since.
Last night – after she unplugged the ringing phone when it disturbed her yet again – she had kicked the duvet off the bed, opened the window as wide as it would go, and tried desperately to sleep. But the kiss would not free her from its heat.
Now Jess and Ryan sauntered up the street, holding hands, Jess not meeting Chloe’s gaze, her cheeks flushed. Chloe knew it then; the knowing simmered in the hot air around them, consuming her. Ryan and Jess had slept together. Jess was no longer a virgin. And she hadn’t told her; she hadn’t called her to share the very thing they had always talked about, the thing they had always imagined together, Jess describing the kind of boy she hoped it would be with, and Chloe vaguely agreeing.
Had Jess forgotten their almost-kiss three nights ago? Their moment.
Or had Chloe imagined it?
‘Knew you’d come,’ said Ryan, head cocked, grinning.
Chloe stood, at least as tall as he was, and said, ‘No you didn’t.’
‘Can’t you two get along,’ sighed Jess.
‘We do,’ said Ryan, letting go of Jess’s hand and heading around the back of the church. ‘Chloe loves me to bits. Everyone loves a bit of Ryan.’ He climbed in through the boys’ toilet window, and Jess followed without looking back. Chloe swallowed her jealousy, and a heavy, aching sadness, and the anger that Ryan had taken her girl.
Inside the theatre, the stage was littered with dark capes and long, bedraggled wigs; at its centre was a black, plastic cauldron. There had been a rehearsal last night but neither Jess nor Ryan had come, each claiming to have a stomach bug. Chloe and the other two witches – twins, Elisha and Ella – had rehearsed a scene from Act Four, with Mr Hayes voicing Macbeth in Ryan’s absence. ‘How now, you secret, black and midnight hags! What is’t you do?’ he had bellowed. ‘A deed without a name,’ the three witches had cackled, Chloe the quietest, saddest witch of all.
Now she was an angry witch; angry at Ryan.
‘Were you two really ill last night?’ she asked as Ryan took the shoe box from the cupboard behind the curtain.
‘I was,’ said Jess. She loitered at the edge of the stage. ‘I’ve been feeling sick ever since we left here the other night. And…’
‘And what?’ asked Chloe.
‘Nothing.’ Jess shook her head, pale in the dim light.
‘Our house phone rings all night, every night,’ said Chloe. ‘But no one else hears it. I asked my dad, who’s a light sleeper, and he hadn’t. I had to unplug it last night.’
‘I feel like someone’s watching me all the time,’ admitted Jess. ‘And I don’t think it’s someone nice.’
‘Me too,’ whispered Chloe, feeling a barrier between her and Jess drop.
Ryan pushed the cauldron noisily to one side, making room for the Ouija board. ‘You’re imagining it because you’re feeling spooked.’
‘We didn’t imagine the real name of Daniel Locke’s mum, did we?’ said Chloe.
Did she imagine the moment with Jess though?
‘Fuck off, then,’ snapped Ryan. ‘Don’t do it anymore.’
Chloe began to walk towards the door, her heart pounding.
‘No.’ Jess grabbed her arm.
Chloe looked at her delicate hand and then her beseeching face. And she realised – Jess was actually a little afraid of Ryan. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Something had shifted; they may have slept together, but something else had happened too.
I need you, Jess’s eyes said. Don’t leave me here.
And Chloe couldn’t.
Ryan laid out the letters and the words, then placed the upside-down glass in the centre. As he put a match to the three candles, Chloe turned out the light. They all sat. One by one they placed their fingers on the glass. A shiver went up Chloe’s arm. She poised the pen ready to record what happened again. They moved the glass repeatedly in a circular motion.
‘Let’s get Daniel Locke back,’ said Ryan.
‘No, I don’t want to.’ Chloe shook her head vigorously. ‘Let’s just see who comes through naturally.’
‘But then we get weirdos,’ said Jess.
‘And Daniel Locke isn’t?’ Chloe asked. ‘He walked out in front of cars on a motorway!’
‘Let’s find out why.’ Ryan studied them both. ‘Let’s find out what really happened.’
‘I don’t think I want to know,’ said Jess quietly.
‘Well, I do.’ Ryan was adamant. He paused and then asked dramatically, ‘Are you there, Daniel?’
The glass shot across the floor to the ‘Yes’. Their three fingers almost came free. It stayed for a moment and then moved again, more languorously, as though toying with them, now it had their attention. Chloe recorded the words.
DID YOU MISS ME CHLOE
She felt sick. ‘I don’t like him using my name.’
‘Why not?’ asked Ryan. ‘He likes you!’
‘I don’t want him to. He used it the other night too. It’s a bad sign.’
‘How?’ asked Jess.
‘I read online that if a spirit uses your name, it’s dangerous, and you should finish the session right away.’
Jess looked nervous.
‘This whole thing is dangerous,’ cried Ryan. ‘That’s why we’re fucking doing it. Fuck off if you don’t want to. I’m sick of you complaining. You knew it was gonna be freaky shit when we started.’
Chloe took her finger off the glass. ‘I’ll go, then,’ she said softly.
She walked down the aisle between the pews, without looking back, even at Jess.
‘We don’t need her,’ she heard Ryan say to Jess. ‘Daniel, are you still here?’
Chloe reached the door, tears threatening to fall. She was losing Jess. Staying here would not prevent that; she was under Ryan’s dark spell, and he was under the dark spell of the game. She waited for Jess to call her name. Willed it to happen. When it didn’t, she turned the door handle. Frowned. Tried again. It wouldn’t move. She wriggled it harder. The door stayed shut.
‘Shit.’ It was Ryan, the word soft.
Chloe turned to tell them the door was stuck, but he and Jess were staring at the glass. It was moving slowly between letters. She could not help but be a tiny bit disappointed that it had worked without her there.
You’re still here though, she thought. You’re in the room.
The glass stopped moving.
‘What is it?’ asked Chloe in spite of herself.
‘You can’t go,’ said Jess quietly.
‘Why?’
‘Because we’ll all die,’ said Ryan.
‘What?’ Chloe’s breath caught.
‘That’s what he said.’
‘You’re making it up to get me to stay.’
‘Open the door then.’ Ryan looked at her; his eyes flickered with genuine fear. ‘Daniel said he locked it. And he said … he said … we’ll all die if we don’t finish what we’ve started.’
Chloe tried the handle again, but it wouldn’t open. She kicked the door.
‘Come back,’ begged Jess. ‘I’m really scared now.’
What choice did Chloe have? She turned and walked back along the aisle. She had a morbid vision of heads poking out of the wooden pews as she passed them, faces distorted, eyes wild, possessed in some way. She sat down next to Ryan and Jess. Put her finger back – where it belongs – on the glass.
The door flew open, extinguishing the candles. Jess gasped. Ryan fumbled to relight them. The glass moved.
HELLO CHLOE
‘Why me?’ she asked. She could smell him again; hormonal, angry, close.
YOURE THE WITCH
‘Only in Macbeth,’ she said.
‘The Scottish play,’ corrected Jess.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ snapped Ryan.
YOU WANT SOMETHING
‘Me?’ asked Chloe.
YES
Did he really know what she wanted? Could a dead spirit read her mind? It was a ridiculous question in light of all that had happened. Anything was possible here. It seemed so long ago that Ryan had suggested they play this ‘game’. Did she wish she could go back and not follow? She wasn’t sure.
YOU ALL WANT SOMETHING
‘Do we?’ asked Ryan, but as though he didn’t want the answer.
I CAN GIVE YOU IT
Chloe could hear his voice again as the words were spelled out; in her ear, sneering, youthful, deep. She could smell aftershave – different from Ryan’s – and she could see a dark shape behind him.
THATS WHY RYAN CAME
‘What the…?’ Ryan jerked back.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Chloe.
HE KNOWS
‘What does he know?’ she asked.
ME
‘We know that.’ Jess clearly wanted to defend him. ‘He told us you were at his school. It’s no secret.’
Ryan fell silent. He didn’t look at either of them.
HE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED
‘What do you mean?’ Chloe had given up writing down the words.
I TOLD HIM
Ryan was still quiet.
HE KNOWS THE GAME
‘We know that too,’ said Jess. ‘He suggested it.’
DIDNT TELL YOU EVERYTHING
‘What does he mean?’ Chloe asked Ryan, but he avoided her eyes.
HE WANTS THE POWERS
‘What powers?’ asked Chloe.
ONES WE HAD
‘You had?’
WHEN WE DID THIS
‘What does he mean?’ asked Jess.
‘I’ll tell you later. Let’s say goodbye to Daniel for now and—’
NOT LEAVING
Chloe took her finger off the glass, willing Ryan to argue about it. He didn’t. ‘Tell us now. You said Daniel went to your school. What aren’t you telling us?’
‘OK.’ Ryan took his finger off the glass too. ‘I knew Daniel Locke more than I let on.’
‘How much more?’ asked Jess.
‘He was my best friend.’
24
Chloe’s Room
March 2019
In her room later, Chloe opens her laptop so that she won’t take out the knife. She reads again the words she spilled the other night, hoping to push Ginger’s rejection from her head. But every time her mind wanders it takes her to that kiss, to the dressing room, to the slamming door as Ginger walked away. The humiliation of it eclipses even the horror of those rows of pulsating, blood-filled lightbulbs, and all the other sights and sounds she feels sure now are the result of Chester harping on about Morgan Miller.
Should she message Ginger? Ask why she ran?
No. She’ll sound needy.
To rid herself of these images, she reads aloud from her script. It’s better than she could have hoped. It’s almost as though, in that frenzy of writing the other night, someone else wrote with her. Someone gifted. After a while she stops reading and begins typing again, without looking up, without lifting fingers away from keyboard, and without thinking. She is on the ship with her character Abigail, watching the ghost dancer in the piano bar who no one ever speaks to. In silence, Abigail takes the woman’s hand, and they sweep onto the dancefloor, where their waltz is so beautiful everyone else steps back.
It comes to life.
Chloe forgets the knife.
She can hear music, feel the ship swaying, smell the woman’s perfume.
It is the one Ginger wore.
25
The Game
2005
‘Your best friend?’ Jess asked the question with absolute disbelief. She took her finger off the glass. ‘You told me last night about the powers, but you never said Daniel was your best friend.’
Ryan glared at her with dark eyes, obviously wanting her to stay quiet. So they had seen one another last night. They missed rehearsals and spent time together. Had they slept together? One of the candles died with a sizzle, as though invisible fingers had snuffed it out.
‘What powers?’ asked Chloe, trying to extinguish her hurt with a pinch.
Jess spoke over Chloe. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ she asked Ryan.
‘I thought, if I did, you’d refuse to do this,’ he admitted.
‘But why did you want us to so badly?’ demanded Jess, her feistiness returning.
Chloe smiled to herself. This was the girl she knew and loved. This was the girl who Chloe had let contour her face with new make-up while they laughed at the extreme result; the girl who slept over and snored softly and stole the covers; the girl who got hiccups for ten minutes at a time.
‘Because I know…’ began Ryan.
‘Know what?’ asked Jess.
‘What can happen.’
‘So do we,’ cried Chloe. ‘People can die! Daniel Locke was your friend – your best friend – and he died. Aren’t you even bothered?’
‘Of course I’m fucking bothered.’ Ryan pulled at his hair. ‘It shocked me to my core.’ He paused, looked sad – but it passed. ‘I guess I was hoping to speak to him again. I guess I thought this was a way to … reconnect. And…’
‘And what?’ asked Chloe.
‘I saw what happened to him.’
‘You mean on the road that night?’ Jes
s looked ashen. ‘You were there?’
‘God no, I wasn’t there. No, I mean I saw what happened to him before that. While they were doing… this.’ He looked at the glass and the letters.
‘Did you do a Ouija board with them?’ asked Chloe, arms crossed.
‘No.’
‘How come?’
Ryan shrugged. Looked embarrassed.
Chloe saw it then. Somehow it landed in her mind, like a new, pencil-written line in the margin of a script. She had a vision of Daniel Locke, all cocky, all that Ryan had tried to be with Jess, with all the girls. She saw Ryan in Daniel’s shadow, following him, wearing a James Dean jacket because Daniel had one, smoking because he did, flirting because he did.
Chloe realised that sometimes Ryan followed too.
‘You weren’t needed,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘Why?’
Ryan got his swagger back; he sat up straight like he didn’t care and held Chloe’s gaze.
‘They had three already,’ he said. ‘Danny said it had to be three, so I wasn’t needed. He had Amelia Bennett, and she’d do anything he wanted. And Harry Bond’s dad is that rich guy who owns the big car showroom. So nobody says no to fuckin’ Harry Bond; he and Danny planned it in biology when I was away in Tenerife with my dad.’ Ryan looked sad. ‘I came back to school, and they’d already done it a few times.’
‘Have you been to see Harry Bond in the mental hospital?’ asked Jess.
‘No.’ Ryan looked shamefaced. ‘Look, he wasn’t my friend. It’s not my place.’
‘What did you mean about powers?’ asked Chloe.
