Between the Lies

by Cathy MacPhail

  That day I sat in the cafe alone, but for the first time I didn’t feel lonely. I was scribbling away in my notebook, still working on my urban myth, when I became aware of someone standing in front of me. I looked up. It was Frances Delaney.

  “Is it true, Abbie? Have you been swamped with texts from this unknown number?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Was she about to confess that she was UNKNOWN? Please don’t let it be Frances, I thought. She was the only one in the school I actually liked.

  “That’s crap!” She turned and looked round at everyone in the cafe. Her voice carried to the pupils sitting on the winding steel stairs that led up to the first floor. “Do you hear me? That’s crap. Are ye all weans? I think Abbie here deserves a break. And if I hear about anybody sending her a text, it’ll be me you’ll have to answer to.”

  Frances had never been a bully. She’d never needed to be. People did what she said because they wanted to be her friend. I felt like jumping from my seat and hugging her. But I think that would have been a step too far.

  She turned back to me, her voice was softer now, “You going to the school Halloween disco?”

  I shook my head. It was only days away, but there was not a chance I, Abbie-no-mates-Kerr, would be going. “No,” I said.

  “Cause you’ve got nobody to go with, I suppose, eh? Well you can come with me and my mates, ok?”

  “Ok.” I said it completely automatically. You don’t say no to Frances. Who would ever want to? But I could hardly believe my ears.

  “Good,” she said, flashing one of her dazzling smiles. “See you later.” She walked away, giving me a backward wave of her hand.

  I glanced around. Most of the pupils were deliberately not looking at me, but the ones who were didn’t look happy.

  No one came to sit beside me, but I didn’t feel alone after that. I had the magic cloak of Frances Delaney draped around my shoulders. And it felt good.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The next couple of days were the best I had had since our hoax was discovered. The texts still came, but they were less frequent, and I only glanced at them then deleted them right away. Though I have to admit some were more sinister than any I had had before.

  Was this the real UNKNOWN? Was there actually a real UNKNOWN? I was so mixed up I was beginning to doubt it myself.

  I deleted even the sinister ones. Come if you dare, I thought. Because whoever you are, I will be ready for you. You will see me striding through the school, unafraid, head high. Frances made a point of speaking to me each day, sometimes in a corridor as she would sail past with her entourage, sometimes in the school cafe, but always in places where people could see us. She wasn’t over‑friendly, just a few words in passing, reminding me about the Halloween disco. But those few words made such a difference.

  “See that Frances,” Robbie pointed out one day in class, “she’s the Mother Teresa of this school. And she’s made a difference to you; I can see it. You were at the end of your rope, and she threw you a lifeline.”

  “How poetic,” I said. “I never knew you were so good with words.”

  So of course he couldn’t just leave it at that, could he? “She’s Mother Teresa, and you’re Hannibal Lecter.”

  “If I was Hannibal Lecter, you’d be the first thing I’d eat.”

  But he was right about Frances. She had thrown me a lifeline. I wondered why she was being so kind. But whenever she spoke to me, I smiled, and I felt I hadn’t smiled for so long. I wanted to thank her all the time, but that would have been geeky, so I usually answered her in words of one syllable or just with an idiotic smile. I never thought I would be such a wimp.

  Of course some at school were still trying their best to wind me up. When news came in of a girl going missing in Renfrew, Belinda couldn’t resist shouting out to me in the corridor, “Want another candlelit vigil, Abbie?”

  But I walked on and ignored her.

  Dad was pleased with the difference in me too. “You’re getting back into the swing of things,” he said, and that made me laugh. I’d never been in the swing of anything. Always the outsider. The only time I had been part of anything was when Jude disappeared and I had become the heroine who was keeping the flame alive. And that had all been a lie. I wondered sometimes what would have happened if she had come home on that night when she was supposed to. Stumbling through the crowd, lit by the flickering candles, caught on camera. We were meant to hug, and swear life-long friendship. Fame and fortune would have been ours.

  So why had Jude not come back? She’d said to her mum she wanted to come back quietly, away from the publicity, the cameras. She just wanted it to be her on her own… But… Thinking back, her return could not have been more dramatic or public. Staggering up the street, in full view of an audience, neighbours stepping out of their front doors, television cameras filming her, the full glare of publicity. Nothing quiet about it.

  For the first time I wondered if that had all been planned? Was Jude that devious? I had always thought her a bit silly, not too bright. So did everyone else. Maybe she wasn’t as daft as she seemed. I tried to push the thought away. Maybe I would never know the truth.

  ***

  I was drifting off to sleep when the security light came on in the garden outside my window. I didn’t move. It would be a cat running across the grass, or leaping the fence. It was always happening. The light came on with the slightest movement; even a high wind could set it off.

  But there was no wind.

  A moment later the room went dark again, but only for a second. Then the light was on again. I was always telling Dad just to shut the security off completely. It was ok for him, he slept at the front of the house – the light didn’t bother him. But he insisted we needed it.

  I lay for another minute waiting for the room to be plunged into darkness again. But the light didn’t go off.

  I gave up at last and got out of bed. I drew the blinds across and looked out. Just as I did the light went out again. But again, only for a moment. The sudden blaze of it coming back on made me blink. At first I could see nothing, still half asleep. A movement caught my eye: something at the back fence, not quite in the light. Too big to be a cat. I rubbed at my eyes and peered closer.

  It began to rise, and stood tall. A shape, a dark shape, all in black, and a face, and I caught my breath. I couldn’t be seeing what I thought I was seeing. It couldn’t be. My imagination. It had to be my imagination.

  Because there, standing in the furthest corner of the garden, was a clown.

  THIRTY

  A clown standing in my garden? All in black, but with a white clown face and a red slash for a mouth. I put my hands over my face to try to blot it out. I was still sleeping. I must be. This was a dream, a nightmare. I was in the middle of a nightmare and when I woke up I’d be safe in my bed. Or it was a hoax, a prank, a cruel trick. Or was I seeing things? Hallucinating? Please, let any of those be true.

  But when I took away my hands and opened my eyes, it was still there.

  At that moment my phone pinged. I reached out to my bedside table.

  I began to shake once more. This was UNKNOWN – out there in my own garden. Dressed as a clown. Why a clown? Because I had confessed to being so afraid of them. I’d done that in class, they had all been there. One of them had to be UNKNOWN. I wanted to leap from my window, run outside, drag the mask from that face and reveal… Who?

  I tried to clear the fog from my mind. What could I do to prove what I was seeing? Because no one would believe me. I’d take a photo! Proof positive that UNKNOWN was here, stalking me, watching me. That UNKNOWN was real. I looked down at the phone in my hand. Told U I’d be watching U Abbie. I’d only taken my eyes off the figure for the second it took to re-read the text, but when I glanced back, it was gone.

  I had no photo. And the garden was black.

  THIRTY-ONE

  I hardly slept the rest of the night. I certainly didn’t go back to bed. I sat curled in the chair by the window,
waiting for the security light to flash on again, my phone at the ready – determined to catch him, her, it, whatever it was. In the moments I did drift off to sleep, my imagination went into overdrive. The clown haunted my dreams.

  I couldn’t stop trying to work it out: who was behind that mask? Who would do this? Jude only lived a few streets away from me and she knew I slept at the back of the house…

  But it couldn’t be Jude. She didn’t know my fear of clowns. Had to be someone in class, someone who saw how pale my face was when they talked of them.

  I must have dozed off eventually because I jumped awake when the alarm went off. I was still clutching the phone and my head was lying at an uncomfortable angle on my desk.

  It was still dark outside. So dark, but the clocks would change in a day or two. Then darkness would come much earlier in the evening.

  Should I tell Dad about the clown in the garden? That would be the sensible thing to do. But I could hear him humming down in the kitchen. He wanted things to be better, wanted to put all of this behind him, perhaps pretend it hadn’t happened at all. And would he believe me? Would he think I made the whole thing up? Would anyone believe me? The answer to that was simple. No. So when he said, “You’re in a daze this morning, Abbie, Everything all right?” I made myself smile. I had heard the anxiety creeping into his voice.

  “Everything’s A-ok, Dad,” I replied.

  And he smiled back, relieved.

  ***

  I walked into school and studied everyone for signs of guilt. Did Tracey giggle as I walked past her? Was Robbie looking too pleased with himself about something? Did Andrea just glance at me and look away? Could UNKNOWN be Big Belinda? Josh Creen? I caught him staring at me as I walked up the stairs to class. He looked smug, as if he knew something I didn’t. But he wasn’t in my class, so he wouldn’t have known about the clowns.

  That night I kept the lamp on, my phone clutched in my hand on camera mode, just in case. I was sure I wouldn’t sleep. Instead, as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out, as if someone had switched me off. I had a great night’s sleep. No nocturnal visitors, no texts, no nightmares.

  ***

  Next day, Friday, was the school Halloween disco. It was all the talk. Frances made a point of coming over to make sure I was still going. I’d rather have stayed at home, especially now, but I said I would be there. “I’m not dressing up though,” I told her.

  “Oh come on, you’ll be the only one who doesn’t.”

  I just shrugged my shoulders. Dressing up, looking foolish, no, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. She finally gave up. “Some of us are waiting behind after school to decorate the hall. Are you up for that?”

  How could I say no to Frances when she was being so kind to me. “Maybe for a bit…”

  “Good girl,” she said. “See you later.”

  But in the auditorium after school as banners were pinned to the walls, and balloons were blown up, I felt even more left out. I had nothing to do. I stood by the stage feeling stupid. Everyone was looking forward to the night, except me. They were whispering and I wasn’t included in any of it. Frances came out of the hall and found me trying to make a discreet exit.

  “You just want to go home, don’t you?”

  “Is that ok?”

  “Of course it is. I’m heading up to the art rooms for some more banners. I’ll be going home too after that. See you tonight.”

  I watched as she clattered up the winding stairs in her red high heels. She disappeared down the art corridor.

  Stepping out the automatic doors, I collided with Robbie coming in.

  “You’re looking awful happy,” he said, and I realised I was smiling.

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised about it,” I snapped back.

  But he was right. I did feel happy. Maybe tonight would be a new beginning for me.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Dad wanted me to dress up too. “You’ll be the odd one out,” he said.

  “No change there then,” I told him. But I said it with a smile.

  Still, I was more excited going out that night than I had been for a long time. And on the drive up to the school my excitement grew. There were Darth Vaders and Princess Leias galore. Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Who, Captain America, all heading for the school. Everyone seemed to be laughing; it was a cloudless night, and the sky over the hills was covered with stars. The school was lit up in celebration, and for once I was going to be part of it. I wanted to stay part of it. Put all of the past behind me, make up for what I had done that was so wrong. I didn’t want to be an outsider any more. I had never felt that more than I did that night.

  Dad parked as close to the entrance as he could. When I stepped out of the car, a blast of icy wind hit my face.

  “Just give me a phone and I’ll come and get you.”

  I imagined Frances and her friends insisting I go home with them. We’d all share a taxi, or someone’s mum and dad would pick us up. Maybe for once I wouldn’t need a ride home with Dad. “I might go home with my friends.” That didn’t sound right coming out of my mouth. But I could see it pleased him. He so wanted me to fit in.

  I waved as I hurried to the front doors, watching him drive off. My insides were churning. Would anyone apart from Frances even talk to me? I just wanted to keep this positive feeling alive.

  But as soon as I stepped inside, I knew something had happened. Something bad. Pupils were hanging about in groups, talking in anxious tones. There was no sign of Frances. I wanted to ask someone what was wrong, but I wasn’t sure anyone would tell me. I looked around and saw a girl dressed as Cleopatra. It took me a minute to realise it was Clare, one of Frances’s friends. I walked toward her.

  “Frances not here yet?”

  She turned quickly. “You’ve not heard?”

  Something dark inside me began to stir. “Heard what?”

  “Frances is in hospital. She had an accident.”

  “What kind of accident?”

  Clare looked up the winding stairs from the first floor. “She tripped on the stairs and fell.” Clare was almost crying. “Typical Frances. Always doing something nice for people. She stays behind to help, and this happens.”

  “Is she ok?”

  Clare swallowed a lump in her throat. “One of the teachers is going to make an announcement in a minute.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Those blinkin’ high heels of hers, I think.”

  At that point I just wanted to go home. If there was no Frances, there would be no me. I couldn’t handle tonight without her. But I decided to wait for the teacher’s announcement.

  I could hear everyone whispering and talking about Frances.

  “It’s so not fair. She’s so nice. I’ve never heard her being mean to anybody.”

  “I hope she’s ok. I hope nothing’s wrong with her legs. She’s got lovely legs.”

  “She told me I had lovely legs as well. Me!” This was Big Belinda. Legs like tree trunks. Which shows how nice Frances is.

  There, in those few words, was why everyone liked Frances. You couldn’t help but like her. She complimented everyone; she always looked for someone’s good points then pointed them out. She made everyone feel special.

  Why couldn’t I be like her? Why couldn’t I see the good in people? Maybe if I complimented people more they would like me. I was always insulting Robbie, always ready with a snappy comment about everybody else.

  The auditorium looked different that night. So much bigger for a start. The seats had been folded back against the wall and that made the floor seem huge. A glitter ball turned on the ceiling sending dazzling stars dancing all round the walls. There were banners pinned up and balloons and the screen was rolled down displaying music videos, plus the message:

  I felt out of place wandering into the auditorium. The only one not dressed up. But I wanted to hear what was happening for Frances. I imagined her tumbling down those steel spiral stairs, head over heels, down and down, and
I felt sick. Please let her be ok, I prayed.

  I felt sorry for my dad. Tonight was totally not going to work, and he had really wanted to believe life was going to be happier for me. Maybe I just wasn’t the type to be happy. Every time I thought things were getting better, something happened to make it all fall apart again. Just my luck Frances managed to trip down the stairs the night of the disco. (See what I mean about me not being a nice person? Even now, I couldn’t think about something going wrong for someone else without getting concerned about how it affected me.)

  I felt as if I was in a little bubble separate from everyone else. Watching everything, but not really a part of it. I stood against the wall, close to the exit door, trying to merge into the background, and I watched everything that was going on. There was Andrea, dressed up as Cleopatra, watching Clare. She had an annoyed little look on her face. Two Cleopatras, and she didn’t look half as good as Clare. She saw me watching her and whispered something to Belinda, who let out one of her big, daft laughs. (See, I do not find the good in people. I could never be like Frances.) And there was Robbie, a dashing, yes, I have to admit it, a dashing pirate.

  Then the music stopped abruptly. Mr Madden stepped onto the stage and turned on the microphone. We all knew he was going to make an announcement about Frances. He held up his hand for quiet, though there was no need. Everyone had stopped dancing, stopped talking.

  “I just wanted to give you an update on Frances Delaney. For those of you who don’t know, Frances had an accident on the stairs today. She slipped and fell and is in A&E being treated for a broken leg and several bruises. But I’ve just come from there, and she is comfortable and – typically of Frances – wants everyone to have a wonderful night.”