by James Dawson
As soon as she’d mentioned her bad dreams to Sarah, Lis had instantly regretted it. What sort of lame fifteen-year-old admits to having scary nightmares? It had been some sort of flashback to when she was eleven and Sarah had been the ultimate confidante. Back then, the pair had watched old films in Sarah’s room while Mum slept. Sarah, twelve years older than Lis, had always had the answers Lis needed and the movie sessions had inevitably turned into therapy.
‘It’s silly.’
‘No, it’s not. I remember when you were six and dreamt about putting all the farm animals onto a boat. Next day, half of Bethesda flooded! “Troubled Sleeper” the doctor said . . .’
Lis sighed deeply and took a big mouthful of wine. She didn’t especially like it, but it seemed like the kind of thing she should enjoy. ‘OK, but you are going to think I’m properly mental.’
‘Babe, I already do, so it’s fine!’ Sarah laughed.
‘Cow!’ Lis told her with a grin. ‘Well, I first had the dream maybe a month ago.’
‘Go on . . .’
‘It’s always the same. I’m in this forest . . . or maybe it’s Pike Copse, I’m not sure,’ Lis continued, ‘and I’m in this stream, crawling along. I’m covered in blood and it’s so cold. It’s like I’m trying to get away from someone, but I don’t know who. And it always ends the same way . . . someone grabs my hair . . .’
Lis detailed every aspect of the dream. She’d forgotten what an amazing listener her sister was, her kind eyes sympathising with Lis’s endless nights of ruined sleep. Sarah listened and nodded, without interruption or mockery, until Lis had told her everything, including the bizarre real-life incident with the magpie in Pike Copse.
When she was done, Sarah reclined in her patio chair, processing the information. ‘A stream of blood, eh? Are you sure you’re not pre-menstrual?’ she said, holding a straight face for as long as she could before bursting with laughter.
‘No, you cheeky mare!’ Lis rocked in her chair, laughing too. Sarah had a gift for bringing humour to the direst situations.
‘OK, seriously though, Lis. I’m sure this is just an anxiety dream. You were having an awful time at school, and then you made this huge decision to leave Mum and come to Hollow Pike. When I first moved here to look after Gran, I felt like a total bitch for months for leaving you and Mum behind – but I got over it. The nightmares are just your brain’s way of working it all out.’
Lis absent-mindedly wiped her lip gloss off the wine glass. Her sister’s words did make sense. ‘You’re probably right. Actually, I’ve not had the dream since I got here.’
‘There you go! Try not to worry; that only makes things worse. As you settle in, I bet the nightmares stop altogether.’ Sarah smiled brightly. ‘A good night’s sleep makes all the difference.’
Even though there was so much on her mind, the chat with Sarah calmed the busy thoughts. As Lis lay in bed that night, woozy from the wine, thoughts of Laura, Poppy, Kitty and Danny eventually began to fade away. A thick, empty sleep engulfed her.
Lis’s eyes popped open. For a moment, she was disoriented, expecting to see her old bedroom in Wales. It felt like she’d been asleep for ages, but it was still pitch black outside, hours away from dawn. Why had she woken up? Wide awake, she looked down to the end of her bed, where the patio doors stood.
Pearly moonlight shone onto her crisp white bed linen and she realised she’d forgotten to draw the curtains over the French windows. For some reason, she now felt exposed and vulnerable, the eyes of the night on her body.
She wearily pushed the duvet aside and got out of bed to go and draw the curtains, but froze as a tall, angular shadow swept across the terrace. She recoiled, pressing her back to the cool plaster of the wall. There was someone out there. If she didn’t move, they wouldn’t see her. Screwing her eyes shut and holding her breath, she listened – listened for a movement, a footfall. Nothing.
She dared to open an eye. The long shadows of trees reached towards her door, but nothing moved. There’s a reason films always portray branches as skeleton fingers, because that’s exactly what they look like in the silent early hours. The shadow hadn’t been merely trees, though, Lis was certain; it had been too quick. Someone had darted across the terrace. Only now doubt set in. What if she’d dreamed it? It wouldn’t be the first dream she’d had that felt real.
Looking at her phone, the display read 12.54. Still the witching hour. Her head throbbed slightly as she recalled Harry and Laura’s tall tales of Hollow Pike witches. It was funny, thought Lis, how everything seemed possible in the middle of the night. The fairy tales had been almost laughable at school. They weren’t so funny any more.
She wouldn’t sleep with those curtains hanging open. Lis forced herself over to the doors and looked out onto the terrace beyond, her heart refusing to beat steadily. The garden was silent, still and serene. What was wrong with her? Had she had too much Red Bull or something? Had it been the wine? She was so jumpy.
There was a sudden flurry of movement and Lis staggered back. Grasping the sturdy rim of her bed she saw it was just a bird. Another bloody bird. This one was huge, sleek and black all over, as if it were made from velvet. A crow or a raven – were they the same thing? She wasn’t sure. It perched on the back of a terrace chair and watched her intently as she approached the window. Like the magpie, it was brazen, unfazed by her presence.
She’d never seen a crow this close up before. It was oddly beautiful, the curve of its beak elegant somehow. For a moment they sized each other up, the bird tilting its head quizzically. Perhaps the raven landing had caused the shadow to flash across the terrace. That had to be it. Lis was both vindicated – she hadn’t imagined it, after all – and reassured.
Pulling the curtains over the windows, she returned to her bed, but she walked backwards, not taking her eyes from the doors. Just in case.
Party Hard
After a few weeks of struggling with surprisingly difficult maths, ploughing through a mountain of homework and surviving Laura’s further transparent attempts to set her up with Cameron, Lis was starting to settle into her new home. Unfamiliar things were becoming routine. She could feel her nerves unclenching. Perhaps the move had been a bigger deal than she’d anticipated; no wonder she’d been so twitchy.
Since the ponytail incident, Laura had been, dare she say it, nice.
The weekend of the party – her first big party in Hollow Pike – came quickly. And it was at Danny’s.
Her iPod played a selection of poppy dance tunes at full volume, but Lis was failing to get into the party mood. She knew Laura would have told Cameron he stood a chance despite her warnings to the contrary, and while his blatant attempts had their own special charm, the joke was starting to wear thin. Plus, every time Laura found an excuse to touch Danny – picking a bit of grass out of his hair, or brushing an imaginary eyelash off his cheek – Lis had to fight the urge to scream. The last time she’d had such a serious crush she’d been thirteen and fallen hopelessly in love with her ballet teacher who, on reflection, was probably gay.
Do I even want a boyfriend? Lis asked herself. She was starting to wonder if she was some sort of medical oddity. All fifteen-year-old girls are supposed to want a boyfriend, and Lis had dated boys in Bangor, but only because they’d asked and it was the done thing. But Danny . . . Danny was something new, something special, and she had literally no idea how she could take it any further. With Laura hanging off him like a leech it all seemed so pointless.
She checked her reflection in the mirror. Getting ready was much easier with Sarah as style advisor. The other It Girls had taken a trip into Leeds to buy new dresses, but Lis had a wardrobe full of brand new Wales outfits to début in Yorkshire. Her new, sophisticated clothes were supposed to be mature, although she now worried the clothes were too grown-up: mumsy and dull. Tonight she’d been careful to select a demure look that would send a clear message to Cameron: plain, black skinny jeans with a simple grey vest and a pretty lace cardigan ov
er the top. She tamed her brown waves into a chic knot and enlisted Sarah to help with make-up. It was a low impact disguise that Lis hoped would help her fly under the radar through this potentially tricky social situation.
She knew how important the party was – if she did something wrong at this event, it would haunt her for the rest of the year (or until someone else did something even more embarrassing). The night was bound to be full of pitfalls. There would almost certainly be alcohol. Should she drink any? If she did, how much should she drink? She hoped there wouldn’t be any drugs doing the rounds. What if it was the norm to get involved? She’d managed to stay well clear of drugs at parties in Bangor, but she knew the day would come when she’d have to make a choice and stay resolute.
And then there were boys . . . where to start?
She sighed as Sarah shouted up the stairs, ‘Lis, your lift is here!’
With a final glance in the mirror, Lis sighed again. She was going to a party. Why did it feel like she was going into battle?
Harry’s mum pulled up outside a large detached property on a brand-new housing estate, one of those where all the houses are identical and look a lot grander than they actually are.
‘Right, you girls, behave,’ she warned. ‘Harry, I mean it . . . If you are sick, I will rub your face in it!’
Lis, Laura and Nasima lurched out of the back seat in a slightly undignified tangle of high heels and legs. Lis looked grossly under-dressed next to her glamorous companions, which was fine by her.
‘I’ll be back at midnight on the dot. Have fun,’ Harry’s mum said as Harry climbed out of the passenger seat and smoothed her tiny dress.
‘I hope we’re not early. You’re dead if we’re the first here, Harry.’ Laura shot her friend a deadly look.
‘Sorry, my mum wanted to be back in time for X Factor!’
‘Sod it, let’s get messy!’ Laura led the posse towards the house.
They needn’t have worried. It seemed that Danny’s male friends had been there for some time – as evidenced by at least a dozen half-eaten takeaway pizzas lying around. The party was in the embryonic stage, but was nonetheless under way.
A group of boys Lis didn’t know had set up camp in the lounge and were immersed in a football game on some sort of console, cheering loudly and rocking frantically, controllers in hand. Conflicting sources of loud music filled the house.
‘Where’s Danny?’ yelled Nasima over the din.
‘I dunno, but let’s find him . . .’ Laura stepped over a pile of spilled nachos and headed for the kitchen.
As they marched through the soirée, Lis popped her head round a door and found that the garage had been converted into a games room. Cameron and several others were gathered around a pool table. She quickly withdrew and followed the girls.
They pushed past some guy making an obvious move on a pretty Year Ten girl to find Fiona and her boyfriend, Lee, groping each other at a makeshift drinks station.
‘Are you finished?’ Laura loudly interrupted.
Fiona pulled away, lips red and make-up smudged. ‘Hi babes! Y’alright?’
‘Yeah, cool.’ Laura was single-minded. ‘Where’s Danny?’
Fiona looked across the kitchen. ‘He was here a second ago . . .’
Laura started to turn, but was rugby tackled by Cam, who bounded into the kitchen, almost knocking Lis and Harry to the floor. He swept Laura up in a massive bear hug, spinning her around.
‘Riggsy!’
Laura pushed him away, yanking her dress down where it had ridden up. ‘Jesus, did you forget your Ritalin? Get off!’
Cameron raised his hands. ‘Sorry, Riggsy. Can’t keep my hands off you!’
‘Well, try harder or I’ll get someone to break them,’ she snarled.
‘Christ, Riggsy, love, is it that time of the month?’
Laura picked up a bottle and for a moment Lis thought she might actually hit him with it but, luckily for Cam, Danny stormed in through the back door, surly and stressed. Laura calmed herself and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which Lis was secretly thrilled to see Danny pull away from awkwardly.
‘Ste, mate, if you have to smoke . . . garden, yeah?’ he appealed to one of Cam’s mates.
‘Sorry, dude.’
Lis pulled herself onto the kitchen counter. ‘You OK, Danny?’
‘Hi, Lis. Yeah. Well, bit stressed. My dad gave a big speech about trust. If the house burns down . . .’
‘The next party will be your wake?’
‘Something like that,’ Danny replied with a grin.
‘Well then, stress-head, let’s get you a drink,’ Laura interjected, suddenly bright and airy. She produced a hipflask-shaped bottle of vodka from her handbag. ‘Want some?’
Nasima followed suit, pulling an illicit bottle of rum from her own bag.
Danny waved a bottle of beer in Laura’s direction. ‘I’m all set, thanks, Riggsy.’
‘Oi!’ Cam punched Danny’s toned arm. ‘I’m the only one who’s allowed to call her Riggsy. Isn’t that right?’
‘He can call me anything he wants. And, Cameron, it’s nothing to do with you. Go away. Shoo!’
Lis was caught off guard by the tension between Laura and Cam. It was like someone had turned over two pages at once. Harry usually kept Lis well informed of all recent gossip, but she was missing something.
‘Lis, what do you want to drink?’ Nasima said, handing out plastic cups.
Lis thought for a moment. ‘Vodka and Coke, please.’
‘Good girl!’ said Cameron. ‘Get a drink down yer neck!’
Lis had used this strategy many times. She’d have her vodka and Coke and then refill with just Coke. If anyone asked, she’d tell them it was vodka and Coke; they were hardly likely to taste her drink, were they? She didn’t like being drunk: the creeping dreaminess blurring her edges, losing control. It was too much like her nightmares.
With a loud bang, the front door swung open and half of Year Eleven seemed to spill into the hallway.
Danny took a huge step backwards, turning a sickly grey colour. ‘I. Am. So. Dead.’ He trailed after the crowd, trying to steer them into the garden, much to Laura’s obvious dismay. Inside, Lis was glowing. The contest for Danny Marriott hadn’t been won yet.
The next hour and a half flew by. Lis was shocked to discover Cam wasn’t as horrendous as she’d previously thought. In fact, he kept Harry and Lis very well entertained in the kitchen, making gross cocktails and daring his friends to try them. To Lis’s relief, it was becoming clear that Cameron had no sexual interest in her whatsoever.
Much to her continuing amusement, the more Danny ignored Laura, the more unpleasant she became: sulky, bitchy and sarcastic. She’d followed him around for most of the party with no pay-off until, eventually, she and Nasima headed upstairs for crisis talks in the bathroom. But that had been ages ago. Where were they now?
Lis excused herself and slid off the kitchen counter. She half needed the loo and half wondered where everyone had gone. The party was in full swing now: every hallway and room was crammed with dancing, drinking, snogging teenagers. Lis squeezed past a couple she knew from Physics who were engaged in a highly inappropriate embrace in the hallway, while a girl from her English class was hurling chunks into the downstairs loo. She circumnavigated the girl’s feet and headed for the stairs.
Looking into the lounge, she was surprised to see Delilah, Jack and Kitty sitting around a coffee table, talking amongst themselves. She wouldn’t have thought they’d be remotely keen to attend Danny’s party, but there they were in all their freaky glory. The group was even more striking out of uniform. Kitty was wearing some sort of Japanese school girl ensemble, while Delilah was wearing a tiny, sequinned gold dress that looked like it had come straight out of the seventies. Jack, by contrast, was wearing a very plain grey sweater and jeans, similar to Lis’s own party camouflage.
Of course, no one else was anywhere near them.
As she scurried up the stairs, she thou
ght she saw Kitty catch sight of her and give a trace of a smile, although she couldn’t be sure. Lis made a vow to go say ‘hi’ after she’d used the loo.
The main bathroom was occupied, presumably by a livid Laura and her groupie, Nasima. A queue of annoyed girls had formed outside the door, the boldest demanding that they hurry up. Lis slid past and quietly slipped through a dark doorway, leading into what she hoped was the master bedroom. These identikit houses always had at least one en suite bathroom.
Out of respect for Danny’s mum and dad, she crept across the plush carpet on tiptoe, not bothering to switch on the light in case the line of desperate girls made a run for the spare toilet. She quickly located the shower room and flicked the light switch.
A body lay on the bed.
Lis yelped, almost falling backwards into the lavatory. The form on the bed sat up swiftly, pulling a pillow from its head.
Danny stared at her from across the room. ‘Oh, it’s just you,’ he said wearily.
‘Sorry. There’s a massive queue. I thought there might be an en suite in here . . .’
He ran a hand through his thick hair. For Danny, the party was over. Lis knew the feeling. She’d learned on her fourteenth birthday that it’s always more fun to be a guest than a host.
‘No, it’s cool.’ He grinned. ‘I thought Laura had caught me.’
Lis snorted. ‘You noticed?’
‘Well, yeah. She and Nasima have been following me all night. It’s quite hard not to notice when you’re being stalked.’
She slid down the wall and crossed her legs on the floor. Warmed by the glow from the shower room, Danny looked even more delicious. There should be laws about boys being so attractive, mused Lis, suddenly realising they were alone in a room with a sumptuous king-size bed. She felt her cheeks flush and prayed it didn’t show in the dim light. She forced her nervous mouth to say something. ‘You don’t fancy Laura, then? She’s stunning and she’s clearly into you.’
Danny leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows. ‘Not really. She’s, like, really, really pretty and stuff, but she’s a bit scary.’
