by James Dawson
‘That’s awful.’ Lis could almost hear their screams.
‘Yes, it is. All those people who died – their blood is at the roots of the trees. Some people say the town is cursed but, of course, you said it yourself: curses are the stuff of fairy tales.’
Lis did think that, didn’t she? But, ridiculous as it sounded, the moment her mum had driven into Pike Copse, Lis had sensed something strange. The air had felt heavier, the sky had darkened, the wood had seemed frighteningly alive, and the magpie had stared at her as if it knew who she was. Admitting these things seemed a step too far, though. Things like that belonged to books and films, not the humdrum life of Lis London. ‘There’s no such thing as magic or curses.’ She stood to leave, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Look, when I see them I’ll ask my friends about the book. If they’ve got it, we’ll bring it back.’
Someone had taken the book. Interesting. Laura’s had been a ritual-style killing, or so the papers said. Maybe the killer had needed the book for tips or something.
Mrs Gillespie rose and slid over to Lis, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. ‘Lis, you look tired. How are you sleeping?’
Lis flinched and moved to the door. ‘I’m sleeping fine,’ she said reflexively. It was becoming her mantra. She looked into Mrs Gillespie’s face, trying to find the kind old lady behind the make-up.
‘Really? Some people are privy to special dreams, you know.’
‘Yeah, well not me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m nothing special, seriously – ask anyone.’
Mrs Gillespie smiled. Lis thought it was probably her version of a sweet smile; it was unsettling to say the least.
‘Before you leave, I’d love for you to meet the children.’
‘OK,’ Lis said reluctantly, but wanting to be polite, ‘although I’d better be getting home soon.’
‘It’ll only take a minute, dear. We live right above the shop.’
Lis followed Mrs Gillespie through a narrow side door and up some perilously steep stairs.
‘The children will be so pleased to meet you, Lis.’
The smell hit Lis the second Mrs Gillespie opened the creaking door to her flat. Her hand flew to her mouth as she fought the urge to gag; she’d never smelled anything like it.
Stepping into the dingy room, the cause of the odour was immediately apparent: budgies. Dozens of the brightly coloured birds covered every spare inch of the grimy flat. At first Lis was mesmerised by the spectrum of colour: blues, greens, vivid canary yellows, deep magentas. It was beautiful. Lis counted twenty birds lined up along the curtain rail. More were in the sink, pecking at the tap for drops of water. But bird seed was spilling from every surface. And, looking down, Lis saw her feet sinking into a faeces-encrusted carpet. Her stomach reflexively kicked, vomit spilling into her mouth.
‘Babies! Look who it is! It’s that nice little girl, Lis, I was telling you about.’ Mrs Gillespie had the broadest grin on her face as an incredible green specimen landed on top of her wig.
The room was filled with chirps and whistles. So many birds chirruping together sounded like screaming. But then, one by one, the little creatures ceased their song and a thick silence fell. They regarded Lis with fierce curiosity. One brave individual fluttered over to her to get a better look. Lis backed towards the door as another attempted to land on her shoulder. She didn’t understand – why had the birds stopped singing? Had she upset them?
She reached the exit, almost falling backwards down the long wooden stairs.
‘Now isn’t that interesting?’ Mrs Gillespie said with a smile. ‘You passed the test.’
‘What?’ Lis gasped. ‘What test?’
‘“Nothing special”, you said, but there’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’ Lis replied, desperate to leave.
‘You will – soon enough.’
The birds started singing again and Lis’s vision swam. She needed to get away from the noise and the smell. ‘I’m sorry! I have to leave,’ she murmured. ‘Thanks for everything.’
Taking the stairs two at a time, she reached the shop and then the cool, fresh street in seconds. She drew clean, sweet air deep into her lungs, expelling the stench of the squalid flat.
The old woman was mad – worse than mad. Kitty was right, she shouldn’t listen to a word Mrs Gillespie said. Lis ran down the cobbled street, putting the hideous woman and her mysterious words as far behind her as she could.
The Watcher
That evening, Lis found herself alone in the lounge. Shattered parents, Sarah and Max had retired to bed early, leaving Lis alone in front of the widescreen TV. She aimlessly channel-hopped, trying to avoid news coverage of the ongoing investigation into Laura’s murder. According to today’s bulletin, the internet was to blame.
Lis had soaked in the bathtub for over an hour, but she was sure the odour of Mrs Gillespie’s flat still lingered on her skin. She felt dirty, and it wasn’t just the flat. Facts and fiction were starting to blur. Fact: Laura was dead; someone had nicked a book from Mrs Gillespie; Lis had had a few bad dreams. Fiction: there were once witches in Hollow Pike; Laura’s murder was connected to the witchcraft; Lis’s dreams were a message from the great beyond. She needed to ditch the fiction, it was threatening to drive her as mad as Mrs Gillespie.
Lis swung her legs off the leather sofa and wandered to the sliding doors that led onto the front balcony. The chill night air was biting, but she embraced it, hoping it would help clear her head. Frustration crackled through her body.
When did everything get so confusing? Just a few short years ago, Lis’s life had been nothing more than ballet lessons and prize guinea pigs at the Bangor fair. Hollow Pike was supposed to be her fresh start, and although she had met some of the coolest people in town, she’d never felt this sort of fear before. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that silver hand on the tree in the copse.
Everything that had happened in Bangor, the daily feeling of dread she’d experienced on her way to school, it all suddenly seemed lightweight and inconsequential. It was just regular high school bullying: teasing, name-calling, people spitting at her. She almost longed to return. Sure, she hated everyone at school, but at least there she could pretend that none of this had happened. No one in Wales had been murdered.
A flicker of movement far below on the street drew her attention. A figure ducked down the gravelled alleyway on the opposite side of the road. It was a private, narrow lane that led to the old cottage where the neighbours lived.
The silhouette seemed to pause, looking up at the balcony. Lis waved jovially, guessing it was just Mr Carruthers, the old man from the cottage, putting the recycling out or something. But the shape didn’t wave back. Instead it lingered in the shadows away from the street lights, motionless, watching.
Lis leaned over the rail, squinting to get a better look. The observer was so shrouded in darkness, it was impossible to even determine whether it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was stood mannequin-still, head slightly tipped to one side, as if they were sizing her up. Watching her. Watching her like the figure in the copse.
Something brushed against her skin and she shrieked, turning to find that Sasha had squeezed out through the gap she’d left in the door.
‘Jesus!’ she yelped, grabbing the dog’s collar with one hand. ‘You scared me to death!’
She turned back to the night. The crooked lane was empty now. The watcher was gone.
Before retreating to bed, Lis checked that every window and door in the house was securely locked.
The cafeteria stunk of chips and vinegar as Lis sat, stiller than a garden gnome, at the table with her friends. She’d bought a vegeburger, but couldn’t bring herself to even raise it to her lips – her appetite appeared to be on an extended retreat.
‘That was all it was? Someone nicked a book?’ Jack shoved a chip in his mouth.
‘Yeah, but a book about witches,
’ Lis hissed.
‘Lis, you have got to relax, sweetie . . .’ Delilah reached over the table and stroked her hand.
‘Seriously,’ added Kitty.
Lis leaned in close. ‘There’s more, though. Friday night, and this is going to sound insane, but I think there was someone watching my house.’
Her friends looked sceptical. ‘Are you sure?’ Kitty asked.
‘Well, I thought it was the old man who lives down the road at first, but I don’t think it was. This . . . figure . . . just sort of stood there, staring at me.’
‘You’re hot. Own it.’ Jack laughed.
Lis had to laugh too at that. ‘Doesn’t it bother you in the slightest that there’s a killer pottering around town?’
‘No.’ Kitty shook her head. ‘Anyone who met Laura wanted her dead. Frankly, it’s a surprise someone didn’t bump her off sooner. Now, Lis, for the love of Baby Jesus, LET IT GO!’
A magical sparkle tone from Lis’s handbag announced the arrival of a text message. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open. Danny. Damn, she’d forgotten all about Danny.
Hey, Lis, how’s it going? U still wanna do somthin next week? D xx
‘What is it, Lis?’ asked Jack, peering over her shoulder.
Eyes fixed firmly on the message, Lis placed the phone on the greasy table carefully, as though it might disappear. ‘It’s Danny, asking about our date. He wants to do something over half-term.’
Big mistake. Her three friends exploded like a mockery bomb.
‘Lis and Danny sitting in a tree . . .’ Delilah sang.
‘Lis Marriott . . . Lis London-Marriott . . . Lis Marriott-London . . . Ooh, sounds like a hotel!’ laughed Jack.
‘Oh, shut up!’ Lis snapped, although she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. After so many weeks, the others knew exactly how she felt about Danny. The murky fog of Laura’s death lifted from the room.
‘Sorry.’ Kitty laughed. ‘We’re only teasing because you’re making such a song and dance out of it!’
‘Oh, I know! I can’t explain it . . . I mean, I’ve been with other guys—’
‘Oh, yeah?’ said Delilah suggestively, prompting hysteria from Kitty as Jack made an obscene gesture with his tongue.
‘That’s disgusting!’ Lis laughed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that! It just never happened like this before. In Wales, either I wasn’t keen on the guys I went out with or they weren’t keen on me. This is the first time where the boy that I really like . . .’
‘Likes you back!’ Delilah declared happily.
Lis grinned. ‘I don’t know why, but he seems to be pretty keen.’
‘Oh, I can’t think why he likes me with my luscious long hair or Bambi eyes or amazing boobs!’ simpered Jack in a faux little-girl voice.
‘You can sod off!’ laughed Lis.
This was the most relaxed Lis had felt in some time. It felt nice, as if the last few weeks hadn’t happened.
‘So, are we to assume that Danny Marriott would be your first?’ Delilah asked pointedly, calming the raucous table.
‘You would, er, assume correctly.’ Lis stumbled over her words a little. ‘Last year in Year Ten, four girls in my class got pregnant. I’m not judging, but that’s not what I want, so I’m being picky.’
‘Good for you.’ Jack nodded. ‘Last year Gemma Cutler gave birth to a baby on the toilet . . . everyone totally judged her!’
The four dissolved into peals of laughter, the girls rocking in their seats uncontrollably.
‘OK, Jack. For that one, you are most definitely going to Hell!’ Lis giggled.
Jack didn’t reply, instead he reached across the table and grabbed her phone.
‘Excuse me! What are you doing?’
‘I’m replying to Danny!’
‘No, you bloody aren’t!’
‘OK, you do it.’
All faces looked to her.
‘I’m not sure whether I’m going to go on the date or not,’ Lis confessed.
‘Lis, why not?’ Kitty asked, eyes wide. ‘You’ve been obsessed with him since you got here. This is your big chance.’
She sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I want to! It’s just . . . with all the murder stuff going on . . .’
‘Which is exactly why you have to go on the date!’ commanded Jack.
‘Why?’
‘Keep calm and carry on and all that. You are allowed a boyfriend!’
Kitty and Delilah smiled encouragingly, signalling their agreement.
Jack went on. ‘You have got to go out with Danny. You are the only one of us with a shot at a normal relationship!’
‘Er, excuse us?’ Delilah gestured at herself and Kitty pressed together on the canteen bench.
‘Pipe down, I didn’t see you two on the Pride march!’ Jack said sternly.
‘Really? Were you there?’ retorted Kitty.
Jack shot her an evil look with a tiny wry smile on the side. ‘OK, sorry! But it proves my point . . . just because we’re all freaks doesn’t mean you can’t have a nice normal boyfriend. Besides, Danny is lovely. And hot.’
Lis felt the corners of her mouth curl up a little. She’d never had friends like this. Friends who wanted to see her flourish not fade. Their eager faces were like mirrors in which she could see herself more clearly.
‘Well? Are you gonna text him or am I?’ Jack demanded.
‘Should I?’ Lis asked.
Three heads nodded enthusiastically and three mouths beamed as she tapped her reply into the phone. Like it or not, she was going on a date with Danny Marriott. And, just for the record, she liked it!
First Date
The nearest cinema to Hollow Pike was on a fading ‘entertainment complex’ on the outskirts of Fulton. Drizzle hung in the air as Lis waited outside the main lobby, wrapped in her red trench coat and Sarah’s old scarf.
Maybe it was the promise of a week off school, or perhaps it was the time she was spending with her friends, but Lis was actually sleeping peacefully. Neither Laura nor Mrs Gillespie troubled her dreams. The tiredness was losing its grip on her and she felt better than she had in ages. She was ready as she’d ever be for her date with Danny.
How are people under legal driving age meant to have an old-fashioned date? The thought of meeting Danny on the bus had just seemed rough, so she’d agreed to meet him outside the cinema instead. Max had dropped her off early, Danny was late and Lis was starting to feel highly visible and increasingly vulnerable.
What if this date was just some sort of elaborate prank? It crossed her mind that the offer of an evening alone with rugby team Adonis, Danny Marriott, might be too good to be true. Were Danny and his friends hiding in the bushes, filming her on mobiles, ready to post on YouTube?
This was a big mistake. She’d stupidly allowed herself to believe that she was an ordinary girl, entitled to first dates and first kisses and boyfriends. Glancing at her phone for the millionth time, Lis resolved to give Danny another ten minutes before accepting that she’d been dumped even before the first date.
‘Lis!’ Danny pelted around the corner, red faced and flustered. ‘So sorry I’m late!
Lis, you’re a paranoid mentalist, she told herself as he reached her position at the cinema entrance.
‘That’s OK. You’re not that late,’ she lied, confirming how much she must like him.
He hovered at her side, possibly unsure whether to kiss her. Leaning in towards her face, he gave her arm a rub before apparently mentally chastising himself and zooming in a second time to plant a dry kiss on her cheek. ‘I left my wallet at home. I had to go back! Anyway, you OK?’
‘Yeah, I’m cool,’ she replied, immediately wondering if cool was still an acceptable term. ‘Come on, or we’ll miss the trailers.’
‘You like the trailers?’
‘Yeah. Sometimes they’re better than the film!’
Danny smiled that smile, and Lis’s heart fluttered. Now that he was here, her nervousness had reached epic levels.
> ‘Nutter! Come on then!’ Danny said.
They stepped through the double doors and into an olfactory assault of popcorn, body odour and tinned hotdogs. It was a long time since this place had seen a lick of paint. They crossed the chewing-gum-matted foyer to where a messy queue had formed in front of the box office.
Lis was genuinely thrilled to be seeing the exceptionally brutal sequel to Hacksaw – Hacksaw: Torn 2 Pieces. The first film had been unintentionally hysterical, but had also had its moments of terror. Earlier, Jack had questioned whether this was a suitable film for a first date, what with one dead girl and a killer on the loose, but Lis suspected Danny would be only too pleased to offer a shoulder to hide behind!
A life-sized cut out of the film’s satanic clown, Mr Jinkie, dominated the foyer. A nervous rush ran up Lis’s spine. It was ironic that she craved a good scare even after the last few days.
‘I’m getting the tickets, OK?’ Danny said, trying masculine confidence on for size.
‘Perfect gentleman. I’m impressed,’ Lis said and smiled. ‘But I’m getting the popcorn, no arguments! Or are you a pick ‘n’ mix kinda guy?’
‘In here? Can you imagine the fingers that have picked that mix? No thanks!’
Lis laughed a full, chesty laugh. So far, so good. In fact, being with Danny was surprisingly easy; it felt somehow natural.
‘Popcorn it is then!’ Lis decided.
The queue moved quickly and they were called to a sealed perspex booth containing a spotty, overweight guy with greasy hair stuffed under a cinema-chain baseball cap, and a name tag that said he was ‘Gary’.
‘Hi,’ Gary said, his face devoid of any enthusiasm.
‘Hi, mate,’ Danny replied. ‘Can we get two for Hacksaw please?’
Gary’s bored expression barely flickered. ‘ID.’
The smile fell from Danny’s face. It was common knowledge that the run-down movie house let pupils into pretty much any film they wanted. It was the only reason to come to this dump rather than get the train into Leeds.
