by James Dawson
‘I could check at the convent . . . it’s possible they have a new member.’
‘No. No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I bothered you.’
‘Would you like me to call someone? Is there someone who’s taking care of you?’
Sally was already backing towards the door. ‘It’s fine. But thank you.’ She turned and ran out of the church.
It was still raining, but not as ferociously as before. Sally clung to herself for both warmth and sanity. One of two things was true – and she was more certain of this than she had been of anything in weeks. Either she was entirely insane – seeing and hearing multiple people – or there was something incredible going on. Not incredible like good incredible, but like . . . unfathomable, uncanny.
As she walked through the rundown streets of Old Town, Sally felt tiny. She was the smallest thing in the world. Molly Sue and Sister Bernadette, Rosita and Boris . . . somehow Sally knew they were older, bigger, greater than she was.
I am a pawn, Sally thought. I’m being used. She was nothing more than a host body for something far more powerful.
Good and Evil. Capital G and capital E. They were too abstract to picture, but Sally was starting to get a sense of each. The warmth she’d felt around Sister Bernadette, the trust, the kindness. Compare that to the icy shard in her mind that was Molly Sue. Maybe they weren’t just concepts from an RE textbook.
She thought of the homeless man who’d been killed outside the school. She was determined she wouldn’t end up like him, as easy as it would be to scream and shout and wail. Sally didn’t feel like an insane person, she felt like a stupid person, a gullible person. Cold, hard fact time: killing herself would be the best option, she knew it would, but she didn’t yet have the strength. But she wouldn’t rule it out. If it meant ridding the world of Molly Sue . . .
But not yet. There had to be a way. She had to think of something.
Sally thought about it all the way home. Molly Sue remained mercifully quiet, if she was even listening in to her thoughts. It seemed Bernadette was right, Molly Sue couldn’t always hear her. Either Molly Sue didn’t have access to every last thought in her head, or Sally had instead mastered the skill of thinking quietly.
It was after midnight by the time she reached Mulberry Hill, and it had stopped raining, although she was still wet to her underwear when she let herself in through the kitchen door.
With no lights on, Sally didn’t see her mother sitting at the breakfast table. ‘You scared me!’ Sally gasped.
Wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe, her mother stood and tucked the chair she’d been sitting on under the table. ‘I was worried about you,’ her mother said sadly. There were grey circles under her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to go to bed until I knew you were home.’ Dragging her slipper-clad feet across the tiles, she shuffled towards the hall.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sally offered, but sorrys are cheap. The truth was on the very tip of her tongue. Just tell her. Maybe she’ll be able to help. ‘Mum . . .’
‘Goodnight, Sally.’ Her mother was already halfway up the stairs.
Sally honestly didn’t know if she’d be more of a disappointment alive or dead. But one thing was clear: it was too late, and she was beyond the type of help her mum could deliver. A damp flannel and some Calpol wasn’t going to make much difference this time.
Sally awoke. It was still dark behind her curtain. Molly Sue? The tattoo appeared to be dormant. The was a banging noise. From downstairs. Was her mother still pottering around? Interest piqued, Sally pushed back her duvet and tiptoed onto the landing.
There was a further crash from below. ‘Hello?’ she whispered. She took the stairs lightly, not wanting to rouse her parents if they were still asleep. ‘Is anyone there?’
Cautiously looking around the banister, Sally saw the back door was open, swinging in the wind. She must have forgotten to shut it properly when she got in. There didn’t look to be anyone around so she padded into the kitchen, closed it and fastened the bolt.
There were glass panels in the back door. The garden looked empty enough, but at night the shadows that swayed over the lawn looked like teeth and nails.
Only then she heard another noise – this one much closer. A dragging sound, something snapping.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Slowly, somehow knowing what was behind her, she turned.
Melody Vine hauled her body down the hallway towards her, twisted legs trailing behind her uselessly. Her jaw was broken, her mouth hanging open at a sickening angle. A broken arm, wrist bent back ninety degrees, clicked out towards Sally. ‘Why, Sally?’ she slurred, ‘why did you push me?’
Sally awoke, drenched in sweat, and turned the bedside lamp on.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Hey, are we OK?’ Stan asked her on the way to rehearsal the next day. Most people were leaving school, so they were swimming against the tide. The nightmarish vision of Melody was burned onto the inside of her eyelids so she’d barely slept – and now she was close to tipping into Crankyville.
Sally really wanted to track down Sister Bernadette, or whoever or whatever she was, but had no idea where to start. School, and especially the play, were all feeling like a waste of time but also gave her a sense of normality she much needed.
‘Yeah. Why?’ Sally could barely speak to Stan and had been avoiding him where she could. The bitterness of his betrayal was like acid in her stomach.
Stan had the nerve to look hurt and that only made her angrier. ‘You’ve been miles away the last week or so.’
‘Just busy.’ She knew she was being short, but she couldn’t bring herself to play happy families. She was still stuck to the wheels of the bus he’d thrown her under.
‘You haven’t been over all week.’
She mentally counted to ten. ‘Between homework and rehearsal I’m exhausted. I’ve been going to bed at about half eight every night,’ Sally said, and noticed they were climbing the very same stairs Melody had tumbled down. She had to cling to the rail for support.
‘Where were you going in the rain last night?’
She stopped and properly looked him in the eye. ‘Are you stalking me now?’
He looked even more hurt and for the first time she didn’t care. ‘What? No! I just saw you going out.’
‘Stan, I love you but you are not my warden! I don’t have to report my movements to you!’
‘Sal, I know! I just wanna hang out and watch Satanville! You know there was a new episode last night right?’
What? That shut her up. With everything going on, she’d completely forgotten. For the first time in three years, she’d missed an episode of Satanville. ‘Oh. I totally forgot.’
‘Well, clearly. Are you like ill or something? I downloaded it, but didn’t want to watch it without you and Jen.’
She forgave him a little. But not all the way. ‘Thank you. I’ll stop being sketchy once the show’s over, I promise.’
Stan held her back from going into the hall. ‘Just a second. Is there something going on with you and Todd?’
And there was the angry again. Sally bit her tongue. ‘No.’
‘Because —’
‘Stan. Stop it, OK? Just give it a rest.’ She pushed past him and entered the hall.
Mrs Greene swooped on her like a vulture as soon as she stepped in. ‘Oh, Sally, sweetie, could you just come and try on your costumes, please?’
Sally gave Stan a final displeased look and followed the teacher. Stan looked wounded, but she was tiring of the sad puppy thing.
Sally had (somewhat smugly) learned she was a little thinner than Melody so all the Audrey costumes needed alterations to fit her. Mrs Greene fluttered her into the poky dressing room backstage. ‘OK, I’ve got all three for you to try on.’ She pulled them off the rack. Sally waited for her to leave to let her get changed, but Mrs Greene didn’t move. ‘Quick, quick, dear. I’ve seen it all before.’
Realising she wasn’t going to be left, she pulled her T-shi
rt over her head. She had only just unbuckled her jeans when Mrs Greene saw Molly Sue. ‘Oh my! Is that real?’
Sally nodded. Suddenly the poky room was much too hot and Sally struggled to breathe.
‘That’s really something!’ Mrs Greene gasped with admiration. ‘Where did you get that done?’
Tattoo parlour of the damned. ‘Oh . . . erm . . . just somewhere in the city.’ Sally couldn’t think of any actual parlours or make one up fast enough. It was reassuring, in a way, that someone else could see the tattoo. If other people could see it, at least she wasn’t a hundred per cent psychotic. That really would have been an anti-climax.
Mrs Greene gave her the dress to pull on. ‘Oh, you must tell me where. I got one when I was about your age and I want to get it covered up with something better.’
Sally breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Sure. Could you . . . not tell anyone? My parents don’t know.’
Mrs Greene winked. ‘Your secret’s safe with me!’
A few minutes later, Sally admired herself, if that was the correct word, in the mirror. Well, I guess I’ve completed the transformation. I look like a hooker. She was wearing a skin-tight leopard-print tube dress with electric blue tights and white stilettos.
‘Sugar, you look smokin’.’
She hadn’t spoken in so long that Molly Sue’s voice made her jump. Thankfully Mrs Greene had gone to find the patent leather belt that was supposed to go around the middle of the dress. ‘A little trashy, I’ll give you that, but there’s no harm in a little dressin’ up. Guys love that! Like whore and pastor, naughty school girl and teacher, strict school ma’am —’
I beg you to stop.
‘Oh, get the rod out yo ass! You look better than a popsicle in a desert.’
I can’t walk. Her ankles threatened to give at any second. Sally tried to walk up and down the dressing room but looked like a drunk baby giraffe.
‘Oh good God, girl, you walk like you is on crack,’ Molly Sue drawled. ‘Just put the weight on the balls of your feet. And walk like you just shot your cheatin’ husband.’
Despite everything, Sally laughed out of her nose. There was a tap at the door. Assuming it was Mrs Greene, Sally told her to come in. ‘I’m decent.’ Todd stuck his head around the door. ‘Oh, I thought you were Mrs Greene.’
‘Wow, you look amazing.’ He came in and closed the door behind him.
Sally pursed her lips. ‘I look ridiculous.’
He ran his eyes up her body. In the Lycra she felt pretty much naked. ‘You don’t. I wouldn’t wear it to school if I was you, but . . .’
Sally smiled. ‘Can you imagine? I think it’s actually flammable. How’s Melody?’
‘Oh, she’s better today. Didn’t you hear? She’s conscious and talking a bit.’
With that it felt like the floor buckled beneath her feet. Melody was awake? Talking? What was she saying? Sally had to grip the edge of the dressing table.
Todd went on. ‘She’s drugged up to the eyeballs. She doesn’t remember anything – the fall, going to hospital . . . nothing.’
Sally tried hard to suppress the wave of relief that washed over her. It felt so selfish.
Todd looked awkwardly at his hands. ‘Sally, can we talk?’
She looked up at him, reminding herself how inviting his eyes were. Snapshots of the kiss by the lake entered her head, but that was selfish too. ‘Talk about Melody? It’s OK . . . I know you have to be with her . . . she needs you more than I do.’
He moved closer, checking there was no one else in the dressing room. ‘I don’t want to be with Melody. I want to be with you.’ The tips of his fingers found the tips of hers and they interlocked.
‘What?’ Is this a joke?
He took hold of her hand properly. ‘I felt so bad about the fall, like it was karma for thinking about you or something.’
Sally shifted uncomfortably. ‘It was an accident.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘but Melody’s going to be fine and it doesn’t change anything. I don’t want to be with her any more.’
She needed a moment to process that. After waiting five years to hear these words, they sounded all wrong. Sally let his hand drop. ‘Todd, she’s going to need you. She’s going to be out of action for months . . . I . . . I saw her at the hospital. She’s going to need you more than ever.’
He at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. ‘I can’t stay with Melody because I feel sorry for her, and she’s got her family to care for her. Look, I get that we’ll have to be careful. It won’t look good if we get together while Mels is in the hospital, but we can keep it on the DL for a while, right?’
Was this meant to be as cold as it sounded? Sally wasn’t sure she was hearing him correctly. ‘I . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right, Todd.’
‘It won’t be for ever. Just until Mels is up and about and stuff.’ He moved closer again, stroking her hair. ‘I know it sucks, but it could even be kind of hot.’ He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was slow and steady and delicious.
Sally pulled away. ‘Maybe we should just wait a little while, see how Melody is. At least until she’s back at school.’
‘I don’t know if I can, Sally. I can’t stop thinking about you.’ He grinned. ‘And that dress . . . I’m like whoa!’ He kissed her again, more hungrily this time. It was a very different type of kiss to the one he’d given her at the lake. He held her head like a clamp with one hand and grabbed at her chest with the other. It didn’t feel good.
‘Todd, wait,’ she managed to say between kisses. He positioned her against the long dressing table that ran the length of the room. Her bottom pressed up against the counter, she couldn’t back away. Kissing her more furiously, his hand moved from her chest to the hem of the dress. ‘Todd, please . . .’
‘It’s OK . . . relax.’ His hand went under her dress.
‘No!’ With a strength she didn’t know she had, she shoved him away. He stumbled back into a clothes rail and, pulling costumes with him, slid to the floor.
‘Are you deaf or somethin’? She said get off of her!’ Sally’s mouth cried.
Todd clambered out of the clothes as Mrs Greene burst back into the room.
‘What did you just say?’ Todd looked at her wide-eyed.
Sally’s heart pounded; she could feel the adrenalin twitching in her veins.
‘What’s going on?’ Mrs Greene asked.
‘Nothing,’ Sally said, although she had no idea why she was protecting Todd. He had scared her. Properly scared her.
‘Nothing,’ Todd agreed, although he continued to regard Sally with suspicion. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He skulked out of the dressing room.
But Sally could still feel Molly Sue’s rage. It burned white hot inside her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Sally?’ Mr Roberts asked. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said as she came to the stage. ‘I’m just trying to get used to the shoes.’ She’d decided to keep them on, but had changed back into her regular clothes. How else was she going to learn to walk in high heels? At the end of the day, while Sally Feather wouldn’t be caught dead in white stilettos, Audrey would have loved them.
Her heart rate had now returned to something resembling normal. She’d tried on the other costumes and everything was fine. Actually, it wasn’t fine. Her head was messy. Was Todd a grade A douche or was that how boys got when they were horny? She was angry. Angry at him and angry at herself. She shouldn’t have been scared, she should have been . . . assertive. She shouldn’t have needed Molly Sue to push him off.
‘Hey,’ her tattoo snapped. ‘Ain’t nobody to blame for Todd’s busy hands but Todd. Don’t you go beatin’ youself up over what he did now.’
I can’t help it, Sally admitted. I guess he got carried away.
‘No, girl, no. You don’t make excuses for him. Men get enough of those.’
At the back of the hall, out of earshot, Todd was saying something to Duncan. He didn’
t look happy. He threw her a final look and sloped out of the room. A part of her was glad he’d left; a part was worried she’d disappointed him.
What’s wrong with me?
‘Can we get started, please?’ Mr Roberts said and Sally was snapped back into harsh reality. ‘I want to start from “Suddenly Seymour”! Sally? Are you sure you’re ready?’
Sally saw Stan and Jennie painting the Audrey II model at the back of the hall and she longed to join them, to break down and tell them what had happened, but it felt like there was a wall building up between them. She was so angry at Stan, and Jennie was still so fragile over Kyle. ‘I’m fine,’ she said and tottered on her heels towards Seymour.
All she could do was channel it into Audrey, another girl, albeit a fictional one, with a boyfriend with busy hands. Oh God, Sally thought as she sang, is Stan Seymour? The loveable dork who doesn’t beat her up? No. Audrey loved Seymour. Stan was her friend, and he was pushing his luck at that.
By the end of the rehearsal, Sally was fairly certain the white stilettos were slowly filling with blood. She sat on the edge of the stage and pulled them off. Her toes were numb and she had a cushion-sized blister on her heel, but her feet were otherwise intact. Why do girls wear these? Sally thought, trying to massage life back into her soles.
‘Sally,’ Mr Roberts called. ‘Can I just have a quick word, please?’ She obediently trotted over, but the teacher steered her backstage. ‘Sally,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘Something’s been on my mind.’
‘Am I doing it wrong?’
‘Oh hell no!’ His artificially white teeth shone in the gloom behind the curtains. ‘Sally, you are killing it as Audrey. I mean that. I should have cast you in the first place . . . I was just worried you didn’t have the confidence for such a big part. To be brutally honest, you’re far more authentic than Melody ever was and that’s sort of my problem.’
Sally waited for him to go on, unsure what he meant. ‘I don’t understand . . .’
‘There’s no easy way to say this, but, Sally, did you push Melody down the stairs?’
