by James Dawson
‘Oh, fabulous!’ sneered Nasima. ‘Look who it is!’
Lis continued towards the girls. She paused just before them and drew a deep breath of humid air into her lungs. She was determined not to scream or shout, besides, she knew from the fight on Saturday that she didn’t stand a chance against Laura.
‘Laura. I want a word with you,’ she said calmly.
Laura smiled and whispered something in Nasima’s ear, causing the taller girl to giggle cruelly.
‘I mean it, Laura. Do you need your cheerleaders for backup?’
Throwing her cigarette into a ditch behind her, Laura stepped away from the others.
Lis began in a low, even tone. ‘You’re making up rumours about me? How old are you, seriously?’
‘You’re well weird. You e-mailed me, you freak.’ Laura was deliberately loud for the benefit of her audience.
‘You’re lying.’
‘Poor cow. You must be bipolar or something.’ The others were all staring now. Laura reached into her Louis Vuitton bag and withdrew a slip of crisp white paper. She handed it to Nasima who cast her pretty eyes over it while Harry and Fiona sniggered quietly behind their hands.
‘Oh, you muppets can shut up!’ snapped Lis. ‘Give me that piece of paper, now!’
‘You trying to start something?’ asked Fiona.
Lis suddenly felt that coming to the most remote corner of the school grounds alone could have been an error. ‘Just give me the piece of paper.’
‘Do it,’ said Laura. ‘She sent it, anyway.’
Nasima held it out, then snatched it away when Lis reached for it.
‘Seriously? Has it come to that?’ Lis asked, rolling her eyes.
Nasima smiled and handed her the document. It was exactly as Jack had described. An internet print-out. An email from one [email protected] to Laura’s account. It wasn’t even her email address, but Lis guessed it had been enough to fool anyone seeing it this morning. She read on.
Hi Laura
Thanks for everything yesterday. I was so down and needed to talk. It’s been so hard keeping it all a secret, I had to tell someone. Giving up my baby was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I know I’ve done the right thing. I couldn’t have raised him all by myself without knowing who the father is. I deserve a fresh start in Hollow Pike.
You are such a good friend. Thanks for listening.
Liz xxx
‘No one believes this,’ Lis said coolly.
‘You tell yourself that, Lissy love,’ Laura said sweetly and snatched the paper out of Lis’s hand.
Lis shook her head almost pityingly. ‘Laura, that is the worst rumour I’ve ever seen. You’d think such an accomplished bitch might have been able to do better. I gave my baby up for adoption? How long did it take you to come up with that? What, you couldn’t spell chlamydia?’
Harry stepped forward. ‘You sent it, Lis. You can’t deny it now.’
‘Really? You fell for this? Laura sent it herself. That’s not my email address, and she didn’t even spell my name right!’
Laura’s smirk slipped. A new strength blossomed inside Lis; Laura had apparently expected her to crumble a lot sooner than this.
Her rival took a cigarette lighter out of her bag and burned the paper by a corner until it fell to the floor as a black cinder. ‘Who do you think you are anyway?’ Laura’s voice now quavered with fury. ‘You think you’re dead funny and clever. All shy and sweet. All “don’t look at me; I’m just little Lissy the new girl”, when you’re actually a boyfriend-stealing whore!’
‘That is total sh—’
‘Really, Lis? So you don’t think you’re better than us? You don’t think we’re just all hair and boys?’
‘That is exactly what you are!’
Laura laughed, a new, almost demonic quality to her now. Just for a second her eyes seemed jet black. She jabbed a pointed finger squarely into Lis’s chest, pushing her backwards. ‘I think you should shut your mouth. You are a stuck-up little snob and you have no idea who you’re dealing with. I run this school, you got that? Now listen very carefully . . . I am going to make you wish you’d never set foot in this school. You are going to have to come here every single day and I will be waiting for you. Every. Single. Day.’
Speechless, Lis shied away from the intensity of Laura’s stare. Behind Laura, even her winged monkeys had been stunned into silence.
Laura seemed to have surprised herself. She stepped back, taking a breath and smoothing her blazer out. ‘Better run along, Lissy. You don’t want to be late for Spanish.’
Without another word, Lis turned and headed up the slope towards the rugby pitch.
‘Oh, by the way, Lis, say hi to Mr Gray . . . I told everyone you’re in love with him.’
Lis closed her eyes and started to jog. She would not cry in front of Laura.
She didn’t go to Spanish. She had come off the pitch wet and barely able to breathe, and sought refuge in the library. Throughout her time in Wales, she’d told herself – no, more than that, clung to the belief – that none of it was her fault. Now the same thing was happening again. Only worse. So maybe it was her fault. Maybe there was something about Lis London that just said ‘victim’. Christ, she was thinking about herself in the third person, a sure sign of impending mental collapse.
She pulled her legs up to her chest where she sat in the farthest corner of the library. Daphne, the elderly librarian, had set up some plump cushions against the water pipes, creating a warm nest to read in.
In her head, Lis wasn’t a victim, she was mature and sophisticated. She read Italian Vogue and watched French cinema: cool stuff, god damn it! She wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world by a long stretch, but she thought she looked . . . acceptable. But now Lis was forced to consider that, to the rest of the world, she wasn’t cool, sophisticated or stylish. She was only weak. A target. Easy prey.
But why me? Her inner monologue raged. What have I done to deserve any of this?
‘You skipped my lesson,’ came the answer.
Mr Gray’s shadow fell over her. She lowered her book and stared up at the towering figure. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘Is it because you gave your illegitimate baby up for adoption?’ he asked, his voice rich with humour.
Lis involuntarily snorted and Mr Gray sat down next to her. ‘I don’t want to be all “Cool Teacher”, but you can talk to me if you like.’
‘It’s not true.’
Mr Gray laughed, rubbing his rough jaw. ‘Well, obviously not! I think something like that might have come up on your school transfer records.’
Lis smiled a little, more at ease. ‘You know Laura’s lying?’
‘Of course! Teachers know everything! Young people spend so much time saying we aren’t listening. Believe me, we’re listening to it all! We know who’s seeing who, who’s dumping who, who’s saying they’re seeing who but actually isn’t. This is a small town – everyone knows everyone and most of us are related! It’s better than Perez.’
Lis raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m glad it’s all so entertaining for you.’
He opened his hands – a peace gesture. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it, I just thought you could use some cheering up. We are aware that there are various problems with Miss Rigg at the moment.’
Lis let her head flop back onto the cushion. This was the bit where he’d tell her how everything was going to be all right.
‘I know what you’re thinking . . . that I can’t do anything, that I’ll just make it worse.’
Oh, this guy thinks he’s good . . . Lis thought.
Mr Gray carried on. ‘You don’t need to say or do anything. Like I said, we are all well aware of how Laura Rigg behaves and it’s all being written down, recorded. Every last thing. Ms Dandehunt is gathering all the evidence she needs. You see, Lis, it’s a delicate situation; Laura’s mum is on the board of school governors . . .’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘You have
no idea.’ He crossed his legs and leaned in for added impact. ‘But listen, we are dealing with this. It will get sorted.’
Lis looked into his earnest green eyes. They were tired, but resolute. Her teacher believed he could help her. The gesture, if nothing else, gave her a tiny glow of hope. She had someone on her side. ‘Thank you.’
‘If you cut any more Spanish, I’ll call your sister.’ With that, he departed.
Lis inhaled and tried to think rationally. Laura and her groupies practically lived at the edge of the copse. That should be pretty easy to avoid. Lis knew they wouldn’t be within ten metres of a calorie so heading for the canteen seemed a safe bet. She hauled her school bag onto a shoulder and started to make her way through the jungle of bookshelves.
Without warning, Kitty Monroe emerged from behind a bookcase and blocked her path. Lis let out a reflex yelp of surprise. Further down the aisle stood Jack and Delilah. How long had they been there? Had they heard her conversation with Mr Gray?
Kitty paused for a moment before smiling an electric, Cheshire Cat grin. ‘Tonight we’re going to plan how to kill Laura Rigg. Would you like to join us?’
Murder
A bus trundled up the hill to Upper Hollow, where the grand houses looked down loftily on the rest of the village. There was only one way to get there – through the copse, and long, wooden fingers scratched the windows of the bus, clawing at the glass. Lis leaned away from the talons, shuddering. Under the thick canopy of leaves it was so dark she could scarcely believe it was daylight.
It was crazy, but Lis could swear the rustling leaves were whispering her name. It was all in her head, for sure, but she found herself straining to listen. Her imagination was running wild. There was something about the copse – it was almost as if it . . . wanted her.
‘Are you OK?’ Jack asked.
‘Yeah, fine,’ Lis replied. ‘The copse freaks me out a bit.’
‘Oh, God, it freaks everyone out. All those fairy tales when we were little, plus – total rapist hotspot!’
Lis shivered, but she was enjoying Jack’s company. Away from the rest of Fulton High School, Jack could not be more different. He’d barely shut up since she’d joined him on the bus.
‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘I should warn you that Kitty’s dad is the scariest man in the whole world.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Wait and see!’
Lis had, of course, accepted Kitty’s invite to the murder party. She assumed Kitty was kidding, but it almost didn’t matter. The social lifeline thrown to her was too tempting to resist. From the second she’d seen them on the school bus, Lis had felt drawn to the trio. OK, the group weren’t winning any popularity contests at school, but they had their own strange strength. They unsettled people – people like Laura Rigg. That was good enough for Lis.
‘How long have you known Kitty and Delilah?’ she asked Jack, distracting herself from the ‘voices’ in the trees.
‘Oh, ages,’ Jack replied. ‘We went to primary school together, but we didn’t really speak much until last year.’
‘How come?’
Jack shrugged. ‘I was scared of them, you know, because of the witch rumours, but then one day we got chatting in RE. After that I just wanted to be around them all the time – they get me, you know? I guess it was like destiny or something.’
Lis had to admire his kids’ TV enthusiasm. She chuckled to herself.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. Just you.’
‘Funny ha-ha, or funny strange?’
‘Both!’
He laughed good-naturedly and poked her in the ribs.
The copse cleared and the bus rolled into Kitty’s affluent neighbourhood. The houses were newer, grander and the fences higher. A few of the more ostentatious houses actually had statues on their front lawns, hiding behind locked iron gates. Who, in Hollow Pike, actually needed gated security was beyond Lis; surely it was the quietest, safest place in England?
‘This is our stop,’ Jack announced, ringing the bell.
The pair stepped off the bus and onto the damp pavement. Lis followed Jack, trying to get her bearings.
‘Bitchface Rigg lives down there, and just around the next corner is Danny’s place . . .’
Lis’s stomach flipped at the fleeting mention of his name, and she mentally slapped herself around the head.
‘And that’s Kit’s . . .’ Jack gestured down a tree-lined cul-de-sac.
Kitty’s house was just shy of mansion status. A huge perimeter wall occluded the whole estate, although Lis could just make out a long driveway leading to a substantial house.
‘Good lord, are Kitty’s parents royalty or something?’
Jack laughed loudly, ‘Almost! Kitty’s dad is like the sheriff or something.’
‘What?’
‘Seriously! He’s the chief of police for the whole area, which is like being the biggest fish in a tiny, tiny pond . . . but he’s still the boss.’
‘Is that why he’s so scary?’
‘Wait and see!’
Jack grasped her hand, practically dragged her up to the vast wrought iron gate and pressed the buzzer.
After a short pause, a timid female voice answered, ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, it’s Jack and Lis for Kitty.’
With a hideous groan, the gate creaked open.
‘Was that the maid?’ muttered Lis.
‘Her mum, who is not scary.’
The pair skirted around the edge of the neatly trimmed lawn in the centre of the semi-circular driveway.
‘I’m a little bit scared of their house,’ Lis confessed.
‘Yeah, seriously, don’t spill.’
Kitty appeared in the doorway. This was a dressed down version of her new friend: she wore a slouchy vest and a pair of cut-off, black skinny jeans. ‘Hi. Come on in. Welcome to Monroe Manor.’
The interior was every bit as luxurious as the exterior and Kitty shuffled through the ground floor as if she was embarrassed by the grandeur of her family home. It was certainly in stark contrast to Kitty herself.
From the lounge a booming voice stopped the trio in its tracks. ‘Is that more friends, Katherine?’
Kitty took a deep breath and Lis craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Kitty’s father, but she could only see the top of a grey head emerging from a grand leather armchair.
‘There are only four of us, Dad,’ Kitty called back.
‘No bloody weirdo music.’
‘OK.’
She rolled her eyes and led them up the stairs. ‘If you ever call me Katherine,’ she hissed to Lis, ‘it’s all over.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me!’
After endless miles of plush carpeted stairs, Kitty led them into a converted attic room. This room did reflect Kitty. There was no bed; it was a sort of den. She’d hung sheer red fabric over the velux windows, creating a dark, warm cocoon. A tall vintage lamp draped in a gold shawl stood proudly in the corner, adding further enchantment.
Delilah was already sitting at Kitty’s laptop, selecting quiet music. She gave Lis a friendly smile and a little wave of her fingers. The floor was covered in an old rug and all types of books, from tiny, battered volumes of poetry to massive coffee table books featuring photographers Lis had never heard of. Bits of homework were scattered around empty cups of tea, and the walls were papered with hundreds of eye-catching images. There were startling nudes, glamorous models styled as corpses, and one wall displayed an enormous Hello Kitty cartoon waving at the room. A broad grin spread across Lis’s face. It was like being inside Kitty’s mind.
Jack threw himself onto a battered leather sofa while Kitty crawled over to Delilah and embraced her from behind.
OMG – they actually are lesbians! Lis realised. Her mind flipped out – she’d assumed the lesbian rumours were as nonsensical as the witchcraft gossip. Chill, Lis, she told herself, this is nothing you haven’t seen on TV. Lis once again forced herself not to stare an
d joined Jack on the sofa. So, she’d never actually met a lesbian couple before, but they didn’t need to know that. Jack, meanwhile, was busy pulling a selection of clipboards and pens out of his rucksack.
‘What on earth are those for?’ asked Delilah, cosy in Kitty’s arms.
‘Well, if we’re going to plot someone’s death we should at least plan efficiently,’ Jack told her. ‘We don’t want to make mistakes.’ He unrolled a massive piece of white paper and pinned it to the wall.
‘If we’re planning to kill someone, why would we write anything down?’ Delilah retorted.
Kitty snorted. ‘Good point.’
‘I second that,’ Lis put in.
Jack pouted for a second. ‘OK. Point taken. No notes at all!’ He put the clipboards away. ‘Lis, our rule is that anything said in Kitty’s attic, never leaves Kitty’s attic.’
‘Seems reasonable.’ Lis looked to Kitty and she smiled warmly. The air of menace Kitty had at school was nowhere to be found in the cosy loft conversion.
‘That works for you too,’ Jack continued. ‘You can tell us anything you want. We won’t say anything at school.’
‘It’s not as if anyone talks to us, anyway, is it?’ Kitty added.
Lis smiled sympathetically. ‘I want you to know, I’m not like Laura and the others. I never slagged you off.’
‘We know.’ Delilah smiled. ‘We wouldn’t have invited you here otherwise.’
Lis sat forward, feeling braver. ‘I left my last school because I was being bullied. It got quite bad. I wouldn’t do that to someone else.’
Jack pulled his legs up onto the sofa. ‘You were bullied? But you’re so pretty! And there I was thinking only the fat, gay kids got bullied!’
All four of them laughed uproariously, and Lis realised she hadn’t laughed out loud like this in a very long time.
A few hours later, all four of them were sitting in a circle on the tatty rug. Night had long since fallen and the plan to murder Laura Rigg was well under way.
Jack’s initial suggestions were hilarious and outlandish, involving the construction of various death contraptions for Laura to step inside, not unlike Mousetrap. Kitty and Delilah steered the conversation round to more realistic ideas.
