Between the Lies

by Cathy MacPhail

  There was a rousing cheer, and hip-hip-hoorays for Frances.

  As Mr Madden left the stage, he was swarmed with pupils wanting more information. His eyes swept the hall but seemed to miss me entirely.

  I hadn’t noticed Belinda sneaking up to my side. She had the most sneering smile on her face. “Poor Frances. Seems it’s the kiss of death to try to be your friend, Abbie Kerr.” Then she just walked off. I felt as if she had sunk a knife into my back.

  All around me there was laughing and dancing, and I was the invisible outsider. It was never going to be all right. The only one who had been kind to me was lying in a hospital bed. I brought bad luck on everyone.

  The big screen was now showing flickering images of some YouTube Halloween video, the music was loud, the glitter ball looked as if it was alive as it turned on the ceiling sending dancing shards of lights along the walls. My eyes followed them and were caught by a movement in the window of the projection room, high up on the back wall.

  The room was in darkness, but I was sure I could see something in there, standing deep in the shadows, so deep it took me a moment to see it more clearly. Then it moved again, and I could make out exactly what it was.

  A clown.

  THIRTY-THREE

  My knees trembled. I looked around the auditorium. No one else was looking toward the projection room. If they did, would they see the clown too? Had I imagined it? Maybe I’d look again and it would be gone. My eyes moved slowly, reluctantly back, and it was still there. Still lurking in the shadows. Not just any clown. I was sure it was the exact same clown I had seen in my garden. I could almost have been watching a disembodied head floating in the deep dark of the room. All I could make out was that same white face and the same sinister red slash of a smile.

  UNKNOWN was back. Here. Just for me, waiting in the dark. I prayed it couldn’t be real. My insides melted, my legs felt like rubber. Who was doing this to me? I looked around, wanted someone else to see it, but they were all dancing; their eyes were on the dj. And if I screamed – I so wanted to scream – they would look up to the projection room, and I knew what would happen. It would be gone. And I would look a fool, or worse, and no one would believe me. No one ever believed me.

  I had no choice. I had to go up there and confront whoever it was.

  I edged along the stage, moving slowly. Afraid it was watching me. I wanted it to stay there. I headed towards the door, winding my way through the crowds. At last I was outside the auditorium, and it was only then that I began to run. The door swung closed behind me and the music faded; it suddenly seemed to be coming from some far-off place. There was no one around. The projection room was at the top of a flight of long stairs leading from the bottom corridor. I pulled open the stair door and took the steps two at a time, glad my shoes made no sound on the stone. I only had one thought. I was going to find out who this clown was, who was behind the mask, and why they were frightening me.

  There was a second as I reached the final door when I hesitated, fear holding me from bursting in. What if the room was empty? What if it was gone, or –worse – had never been here? What if it had heard my steps, soft as they were, and knew I was coming, and now it was waiting for me behind the door, ready to attack me? Pull yourself together, Abbie, I told myself, this is your chance to find out the truth! And I threw open the door.

  It was still there. Still standing back in the shadows of the room. It didn’t even turn as I came in. I didn’t give it any time to turn now. I ran at it, and began beating my fists against its chest, and someone was screaming, and I knew it was me: “Who are you? Why are you doing this?!”

  At the same moment, the lights in the auditorium went out, the music stopped. There was silence all around and an eerie green light was switched on in the projection room. What was happening? Were they all a part of it? But that didn’t matter now. Now I could find out the truth.

  I reached up and tore off the mask: “Now I’ll see who you are!”

  It was Josh Creen.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I didn’t tell Dad anything about what had happened. I made the excuse when I came home early that I’d felt awkward about not dressing up, and he was shocked when I told him about Frances, but it helped him understand why I hadn’t wanted to stay. Everyone had been so nice and friendly, I told him without a blush. And Frances’s friends hadn’t wanted me to leave, I said brightly. All lies I wanted to be true.

  I could tell he believed every word. When did I get so good at telling lies?

  But how could I have told him the truth? That I had made a complete fool of myself. In front of the whole school.

  Spills and Thrills they had promised, and the creepy clown appearing in the dark corner of the projection room was one of them. Not meant to scare me at all. Just entertainment at the disco. I’d looked like a fool, screaming that the clown was stalking me. That everyone was against me. That this clown had been in my garden trying to scare me.

  “Me?” Josh had said. “I wouldn’t waste any time on you. I don’t know anybody who would.”

  It got worse. Turned out the microphones in the projection room were on and everyone in the auditorium was hearing every word.

  They all yelled and shouted, stamping their feet, whistling and laughing – laughing at me. Here was Abbie again, looking for attention.

  I had run then, trying to blot out their laughter. I ran home and smiled and lied and went to bed and cried and promised myself I would never go back to that school.

  I was drifting into an uneasy sleep when my phone pinged again. Another text. I didn’t want to look at it, I wanted to delete it right away, but it isn’t easy. In fact, for me, now, it was impossible.

  It’s not over. It would never be over. Not until I found out who was doing this.

  It so wasn’t fair that I was facing it all on my own. Jude had been just as much to blame but she was in another school. None of this was happening to her. Or was it? Was she getting texts like this too? Was she as afraid as I was?

  Dad seemed a bit happier at breakfast. Sitting reading the paper, coffee in hand, humming to himself. “I’m so glad you enjoyed that disco, Abbie. You get yourself involved in more things at school. You’ll see how things will change.”

  If only he knew the truth.

  I heard the phone ring in the hall, and stood up to get it, but Dad motioned me to sit.

  “I’m just about finished. You get your breakfast. Maybe it’s for you,” he smiled. “One of your friends…” he added. And I almost had to laugh. When was the phone ever for me? Unless it was a journalist wanting to say something horrible about me.

  I heard him muttering away but hardly listened, my mind on so many other things. And then his voice began to rise. He sounded apologetic and embarrassed. I jumped up and pulled open the door. By that time he was putting the phone down. He stood for a while looking at it, then turned to stare at me as if I was a stranger.

  “What happened, Dad? Was that union stuff?”

  “So you had a lovely time, Abbie? Everyone was so friendly. You forgot to mention you just about ruined the disco for everyone.” He took a step toward me and I stepped back.

  “Who was that?” I could hear my voice shaking.

  “The dad of one of your so-called friends. He says you scared his daughter to bits last night with your stupid carry-on about some clown. He says he’s not putting up with any more of it. He’s going to have something done about you. Come Monday you are in big trouble.”

  “Who’s his daughter?”

  Dad waved that away. “Does it matter? Take your pick.”

  “But Dad, I didn’t… I thought…” How could I explain it? I couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t mean…”

  “You never mean anything, Abbie. What’s got into you? You sat there and lied to me. I don’t even know you any more.”

  He was right, I had lied to him, but I had had enough too. I shouted back at him, “No, you don’t know me! Why should you? You’re more interes
ted in your union – that always comes first. Not me. Never me. I hate you.”

  “Hate me then. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m sick of this so much.”

  He was sick of it? What did he have to be sick of? “Not as sick of it as I am!” And I slammed back to my room. I waited, hoping he might come up, knock on my door, all apologies. But a half hour later, he was gone. I heard his car start up and I ran through into his bedroom, stood at the window and watched him go. I sat on his bed, hugging my knees; I was shaking. I knew there was something wrong with me, and I had nobody to help, nobody to talk to. Nobody who would understand. I sat there while a dark morning became a darker afternoon, my mind racing around like a hamster on a wheel, going nowhere.

  There was a ping. The only person who ever tried to reach me was UNKNOWN.

  But I shouldn’t be all alone. Jude should be going through this too. She should be going through something.

  I was desperate. Desperate enough even to risk bumping into her parents. I was going to go back and see Jude.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  It was a miserable dark and dreich November Saturday, with that drizzly rain that soaks right through to your bones. A fine mist was rising from the river. I stood at the end of Jude’s street under a clump of trees that seemed determined to make me even more wet. I was trying to pluck up the courage to go to her door. I had to ask if any weird things were happening to her. I was hoping the answer was yes. Had she received any texts? Seen strange figures in her garden? Did she know why any of this was going on?

  I was just about to approach the house, when their front door opened and Jude’s mum and then her dad came out. Jude was with them, but in her dressing gown, obviously there just to see them away. She handed over an umbrella they must have forgotten and Mrs Tremayne pecked at her cheek. Jude went back in. I waited until the car turned the corner before I hurried up to the front door.

  She must have thought it was her mother again, that they’d forgotten something else, because she pulled the door wide with a half-smile on her face. It disappeared when she saw it was me. “What do you want?” she snapped. She had her phone clamped to her ear. “Abbie,” she added.

  “Just listen. I have to talk to you, Jude. Terrible things are happening to me. Terrible things. And I need to know if anything bad is happening to you? I want to know if you’ve seen anything strange, if you’re getting any strange text messages?”

  “Nothing’s happening to me.” She tried to push the door shut, but I held it open.

  “So why are things happening to me, Jude? We were in this together, so why me and not you? This is a mystery, Jude, you have to see that, and I think together we could solve it.”

  “There isn’t any mystery. It’s over. It was over when I came back. You’re the one keeping it going.”

  “Someone’s not letting it be over for me. I need to talk to you.”

  “Can you not see I’m on the phone?” She tried again to shut the door, but I shoved my foot inside. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was hearing my pleas, but I couldn’t stop now.

  “Let me in, Jude.”

  Whoever she was on the phone to was still talking. Jude let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, ok,” she said, still with the phone to her ear. “You can come in. But only for a minute.” She pushed open the door of the living room to let me through, but she stayed in the hall and pulled the door closed so I wouldn’t hear her phone conversation. A moment later she came in, still holding her phone, but looking at me.

  I pulled down the hood of my jacket. “It’s not just the texts, Jude. Something was in my garden the other night.”

  “Really? What?”

  “A clown,” I said, watching her face.

  She just looked as though I was strange. “That seems very unlikely, Abbie. Or maybe it was just someone on the way to a Halloween party. Or someone playing a joke.” She was calm, dismissive.

  Inside, I was the very opposite of calm. “I can’t take much more of this, Jude. My dad and me had a terrible fight this morning. He just walked out. I said something awful. But I am getting scared. I don’t know what’s going on. Honest, Jude, I’m at the end of my rope. And your life is completely normal? How is that?”

  She tapped her head. “There is something really wrong with you, Abbie. You should see a doctor. You started all this, and how you got me into it, I don’t know.”

  “I got you into this!” Did she really believe her own lies? “No I did not. You came to me with the idea, remember? Remember Kilmacolm?”

  “Be honest with yourself, Abbie. I was vulnerable. And you used me. It was all your plan, and I fell in with it.”

  I was shaking my head. “No! We’re on our own now. Why would you lie?”

  “Abbie, how did I get your auntie’s key? I’ll tell you how. You gave it to me. You were the one told me to stay there.”

  “Lies, that’s all lies.”

  “So how did I know to stay there? Talk sense. And if you are getting strange texts, well, I find the whole thing hard to believe. It’s easy to send yourself a text, Abbie. And who else saw this clown in your garden, Abbie? Anyone else?”

  “But it was there.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Do you know what, Abbie? I heard more today about what’s happening to you. Frances is saying there was something stretched across the stairs at school to trip her up… Her fall was no accident. And you know what else they’re saying…? You were the last one who saw her.”

  I was so shocked I couldn’t even speak for a moment. “What do you mean? Nobody would say I’d do anything to Frances.”

  “Think about it, Abbie. It’s the only logical answer. You know it is. There isn’t anybody else. Nobody’s threatened you. You sent those texts to yourself. There was no clown in the garden. There is no UNKNOWN, there’s only you. You, Abbie, you are UNKNOWN.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  I shook my head. I wouldn’t believe that.

  And still she went on. “There was no clown. You made that up. And you gave me your auntie’s key. It’s always been just you. Why can’t you get that through your head?”

  “That’s stupid. Why… why would I do that?”

  “Because… there’s something wrong with you.” She twirled her finger round the side of her head. “Up here. I’ve known it for a long time, that’s why I was afraid of you, Abbie.”

  I was already backing away from her, couldn’t listen any more. Just shaking my head, trying to shake out the very notion of it.

  I was on the path and hadn’t a single memory of leaving the house, or being pushed out. What Jude had said had floored me.

  “No… no…”

  I wanted to beg her, to plead with her. Wanted her to tell me she was making all of this up. I was afraid.

  “If you had any sense, instead of sending yourself a text saying it’s not over, you should send one saying it is. And then you could move on. If you had any sense. But then, you don’t have a lot of sense, do you?”

  She slammed the front door closed and I stood in the rain. One part of me was sure what she said wasn’t true. But the thought just wouldn’t lie down. Could she be right? Maybe they were all right. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe it was me who made Jude leave, made her run away. Maybe it had been my plan all along. She had neither the intelligence nor the nerve to come up with such a plan, everyone said so.

  And how would she have been able to get the key to my Auntie Ellen’s house, unless I had given it to her, along with permission? Or had I insisted she stay there?

  What other answer was there?

  I had tried to deny all of this, even to myself.

  I was sending these texts to myself. Had to be the answer. I had been the one in the supermarket. The only one. Hadn’t I searched in every aisle, in every car and found no one I recognised? Only me.

  All these texts from someone who knew just what I was doing. Who knew but me? Why would anyone else bother with texts like that? No one would.

/>   And there had been no clown in the garden. The talk in class had put the idea into my head.

  And it had stayed in my head.

  All my mad imagination.

  And Frances… The last I had seen her, she was clip‑clopping up the stairs in those mad high heels of hers. I had watched her. And watched her. The next moment I bumped into Robbie and he said I looked happy. Was that because I had run up the stairs after Frances and stretched something across in the hope she would trip and fall? Could I be that devious, and not remember?

  When I looked at everything like that, it all fitted. The only answer: I was UNKNOWN.

  And that could only mean I was mad. Crazy. They would lock me up and throw away the key. And I couldn’t blame them; I needed help. I had no one to confide in, no friends, no one who even liked me.

  I didn’t even have Dad any more.

  I crossed the street to the walkway beside the river. There was no one about on this miserable afternoon. I stood leaning over the steel railings looking out over the water. I was so mixed up. The waves lapped on the shore, and the water, even as grey as steel, looked inviting. I could slip under the railings and with only a few steps I could just wade deeper and deeper into the Clyde. The thought didn’t sound frightening at all. I could almost feel the cold water lap over my head. The world would be silent down there. I could drift off with the tide and be lost forever. No one could reach me. No one could hurt me. I could just disappear forever. My troubles would be over.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  It was another text that stopped me. I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket and at first I was afraid to look, terrified it would be from UNKNOWN again, urging me to take that final step. And terrified that UNKNOWN would be me.

  But it was from Dad.