Dastardly Deeds

by Evans, Ilsa

  ‘Well, I know this is weird.’ She paused, as if waiting for me to chime in with an assurance that it wasn’t. When this didn’t happen, she hurried on. ‘It’s just you’re the only person who would know … who’s been there. That is, I need your advice.’

  I regarded her evenly. ‘You haven’t told him.’

  ‘No. Not yet.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘I mean, I will. Of course, I will. It’s just …’

  ‘You bitch.’

  The voice, flat and harsh, came from behind Tessa. She spun around as I stared over her shoulder, both of us stunned into silence. Phoebe strode forward, coming to a halt beside Tessa. She was at least fifteen centimetres taller. Her eyes were focused on me.

  ‘You bitch. How dare you talk to me like that.’

  I blinked. Her face was transformed, her eyes black pools of fury.

  ‘So I’m stupid? Offensive? A sad case of desperate?’

  ‘How dare you,’ I retorted, finding my tongue. My anger had reappeared instantly. ‘You accused me of attention-seeking! Of being some type of tramp!’

  Her expression didn’t change. It was like she hadn’t heard me. ‘So people are trying to avoid me?’

  ‘Who said that?’ asked Tessa incredulously.

  Phoebe pointed accusingly at me. ‘She did.’

  ‘Oh, Phoebe. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. Nell, tell her—’

  ‘I did mean it,’ I said stubbornly. ‘Every word.’

  ‘And my hair?’ Her finger continued to jab the air for a moment before falling. ‘My hair is ridiculous? Have you even looked in the mirror?’

  ‘At least I don’t look like a middle-aged reject from Woodstock!’

  ‘Now then.’ Tessa raised her hands soothingly. ‘If we just calm—’

  ‘No,’ said Phoebe, spitting the word out. ‘I won’t calm down. She has to pay.’

  I heard Tessa gasp but didn’t realise why until I looked down. Astonishingly, astoundingly, Phoebe had picked up one of the dirty knifes from the low table. It was only a steak knife, and not terribly large, but the serrated edge glittered. She held it towards me, her knuckles white. Disbelief scrabbled at my throat.

  ‘Phoebe, put down the knife,’ said Tessa shakily.

  ‘Shut up.’ Phoebe did not even glance in her direction. Her eyes were fixed on me. ‘So I’m a middle-aged reject, hey? Well, I hate women like you. You think you can have anything you want.’ Her voice trembled with fury. ‘You think you deserve anything you want.’

  ‘Actually, no, I don’t,’ I said, surprised by the reasonableness of my tone. My stomach was jelly. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’

  ‘Crap!’ she shouted, the word like a bullet. She pointed the knife as if it was her finger. ‘You ponce around, just expecting everyone to pay you attention. And they do! Then you flirt with them, leading them on, and never caring that there are some people around who really care! You’re all the same.’ Her voice broke on the last word. ‘You bitches.’

  Comprehension dawned. It probably would have dawned earlier if not for bizarre nature of the situation. My eyes widened. It was almost as unbelievable as the knife. ‘You … you did it.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You killed Anna and April.’

  ‘I said shut up! But yes, I did it! Happy now? They were just like you.’ Her mouth curled into a sneer. ‘Attention-seeking. Selfish. Picking up men and spitting them out. They deserved it.’

  ‘And Kim Satchwell? You thought she was me. Or Deb. Did she deserve it too?’

  She rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  Tessa was looking from one of us to the other, with her gaze occasionally dropping to take in the knife. It took longer for her to realise the implications of our exchange. ‘What? You killed April? In Rome?’

  ‘Climb over the railing,’ said Phoebe suddenly.

  Tessa took a step backwards and almost immediately the knife flashed in her direction. She stopped.

  ‘Climb over the railing,’ repeated Phoebe. ‘Now.’

  ‘Let her go,’ I said as I tried to gauge the distance between us, and whether I could take her down. She was a big woman. ‘Tessa has nothing to do with this. And she’s pregnant.’

  Phoebe flicked a glance down towards Tessa’s stomach. ‘That’s too bad,’ she said, sounding regretful. ‘I am sorry. Honestly, I didn’t even know you’d be here. But hang on – didn’t you sleep with her husband?’ She pointed the knife at me. ‘That’s pretty slutty behaviour. Which makes you two peas in a pod anyway.’

  ‘It most certainly doesn’t,’ I said pedantically. ‘I haven’t slept with her husband.’

  Tessa grimaced. ‘I don’t actually have one.’

  ‘Well, when you do, I promise I won’t sleep with him. Especially if it’s Darcy.’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Phoebe. She took a deep breath and then lowered her tone. ‘Or I’ll kill you right here. Now climb over the railing.’

  I shook my head. At almost at the same time Tessa lunged towards Phoebe and the knife whipped around once more. But this time, largely due to Tessa’s momentum, it sunk into her upper arm. It went in like the flesh was butter. They stared at each other in shock, and then Tessa opened her mouth to scream. Phoebe moved quickly, pulling the knife out and clapping her spare hand across Tessa’s mouth. The scream emerged as a muffled gurgle of pain. Blood had already soaked her sleeve and was forming rivulets down her skin.

  ‘Christ!’ I said, taking a step towards them.

  Phoebe jerked the knife up to Tessa’s throat. ‘I’m not going to ask again,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Climb over the bloody railing.’

  Tessa’s eyes were huge. I scrambled over quickly, being afforded a brief, giddying view of the rippling sea far below, before planting my feet on the narrow ledge and leaning forward to grip the railing tightly. My heels were in the air. I wasn’t going to look down again, couldn’t look down again. Surely we weren’t that far away that we hadn’t been heard. Surely someone would be here soon, with help.

  Phoebe pushed Tessa forward, still with the knife up and one hand over her mouth. When they got to the railing, she jammed her against it. I shuffled away.

  ‘I’m going to remove my hand now,’ said Phoebe. ‘And you’re going to join your friend. But if you scream, I’m going to stab both of you. Understand?’

  Tessa nodded, her eyes still fixed on me. Her arm was now slick with blood. It probably wasn’t the right time to point out that she wasn’t, in fact, my friend. Phoebe took her hand away slowly, keeping the knife up, and then nodded towards the railing. Tessa hoisted one leg up, wincing as she grasped the top to pull herself over. Within moments she was standing beside me.

  ‘I actually am sorry,’ said Phoebe to Tessa. ‘About your baby. I really didn’t know you’d be here. Just her.’

  I felt a surge of anger, even amid the fear. She was going to make us jump. ‘They’ll catch you, you know. And you’ll be the most hated person in Australia. You call me names but you’re far worse. You’re selfish and bitter and judgemental. You’re a murderer. You’re so much worse than me. Than anyone.’

  She stared at me and shook her head. ‘I’m not like you. And I’ll prove it.’ She suddenly lurched to her left and hoisted one of the red-and-white lifebuoys from its cradle. She paused, staring at the rope that looped from it to the railing, and then looked at me with an odd smile before lifting the knife. I flinched, steeling myself. But nothing came. I opened my eyes to see her sawing at the rope. As soon as it was free, she put it aside and started on another, breathing heavily.

  There was a pool of blood on the decking. It glistened. The other cutlery, or even my empty scotch glass, would have been useful as a weapon but they were out of reach. I glanced at Tessa. Her face was pale. I couldn’t see her injured arm from this side but the fingers clasping the railing were slippery with blood. The knuckles of her other hand were bone-white.

  ‘Here you are.’ Phoebe passed one of the freed life
buoys over the railing to Tessa. I acted without thinking, yet full of the knowledge that this might be our only chance. I launched myself towards her, scrabbling at the knife. For a moment we clutched at each other but I was hampered by having to keep one hand on the railing. She brought her arm back, crooking the elbow before driving it into the side of my head. I reared back, nearly losing my grip. Fear and pain ricocheted through my temples.

  ‘You bitch,’ said Phoebe, her voice shaking. ‘That’s what I get for trying to do the right thing!’

  Tessa’s mouth had dropped open. With the lifebuoy tucked awkwardly between her and the railing, she looked like some weird version of a nautical clown. The heart on the T-shirt was framed by the lifebuoy. I felt a hiccup of hysterical laughter surge into my throat, where it swelled and then burst. Phoebe had taken a step back. She placed a hand against her sternum and took a few steadying breaths, her eyes closed. I tightened my grip on the railing, ignoring the pounding in my head, half thinking that I might have time to scramble over and mount another attack. Her eyes flashed open.

  ‘Put it round you,’ she said to Tessa. ‘You won’t be connected to the ship but it’ll give you a fighting chance. Then we can let the fates decide.’

  ‘That’s not a fighting chance,’ I said grimly as I helped Tessa clumsily pull the lifebuoy over her head. It jammed across her chest. ‘The fall alone will probably kill us, and if not then the cold of the water will. You may as well not bother.’

  ‘So you don’t want one?’ Phoebe held the second lifebuoy. ‘Shall I just leave it?’

  I stared at her. ‘No, I’ll have it.’

  ‘Say please.’

  ‘Please.’

  She smiled as she passed it over. I grabbed the severed rope and slipped the buoy awkwardly over my head. It dropped into place around my waist but the breadth pushed me even further from the ship. I kept my eyes on Phoebe, not just because I needed to, but because anything else might require me to look down.

  ‘Now jump,’ she said to Tessa. The simplicity of the two words contrasted bizarrely with the implications.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Tessa. She was crying. ‘I just can’t.’

  Phoebe looked at her. It was the expression of someone who has just seen a fly land on her meal. Tessa was a distraction, an irritation, and she wanted her out of the way before she turned to me. I was the main attraction. She pointed the knife at Tessa. ‘Jump.’

  Tessa gave an imperceptible shake of her head. What happened next unfolded in slow motion, but took only a matter of seconds. Phoebe lunged forward and Tessa let out a thin squeal as she reared back. Almost immediately her hands slipped from the railing and, with one foot still on the ledge, she did an odd, surprisingly graceful half-pirouette towards me. Then she was falling. I instinctively reached out a hand but the soft material of her T-shirt slid through my fingers. Before I could even register that she was gone, a massive weight wrenched me backwards. I felt my fingers pull from the railing and with a huge effort, dragged my upper body forward. I realised that Tessa had grabbed the looped rope of my lifebuoy and was now hanging behind me. I could hear her whimpering. The front of the buoy had rammed upwards, against my ribs. The pressure was unbearable.

  Phoebe was staring at us, clearly astounded by this turn of events. Her eyes darkened. She dived towards me and then leant out, over the railing, so close that her left breast pressed against my shoulder. My hat went tumbling backwards. Through the pain and the pressure, I realised that she was trying to force Tessa to let go. What I did next was done out of anger-fuelled instinct. There were no thought processes involved, no deliberation, except for one white-hot, crystal clear thread of certainty: if I was going to die, then so was she.

  I let go off the railing and instead flung my arms around her upper body, clasping my hands behind her back. She instantly and neatly slipped over the railing, emitting just a grunt of surprise. It was almost too easy. But then we were falling. The relief of losing the pressure on my back was drowned by a wave of black fear. I wanted to scream but, as we gathered speed, the whoosh of the air sucked all sound from my lungs. Cabin lights streamed past like comets. At some point, arms flailing, we had all let go of each other, but I couldn’t see anyone else. Everything was terror, except for the smallest sliver of awareness that began shouting instructions. You’ll be hitting the water soon so hang on to that lifebuoy. Close your mouth. Keep your legs together. Take a breath.

  I sliced into the water feet first, the roar of my entry almost deafening after the soundlessness of the fall. It was piercingly, shockingly cold. Deeper and deeper I plunged into the darkness, until it seemed that it would go on forever, that I was too deep ever to resurface. Finally the momentum slowed and the buoyancy of my lifebuoy began dragging me back up. After an eternity I bobbed to the surface, like a cork, gasping for air.

  Any pleasure I might have taken in my survival was overwhelmed by urgency. I had surfaced into the wake of the ship, white water churning around me. I waved my arms, screaming. The ship was so close that I could see the individual cabins, the sliding doors, the gay umbrellas at the rear of the pool deck high above. My voice began to crack but I kept one arm raised until it became obvious there was no point. The ship continued on without hesitation.

  Every bone in my body felt bruised, every centimetre of flesh flayed. Frothy water splashed against my face. I turned, searching for the others. Almost immediately I spotted Tessa, not far away, the reflective patches on her lifebuoy glimmering against the choppy sea. I dog paddled stiffly towards her and took hold of the floating rope. She didn’t react. Her head was back and her eyes closed, her arms, with the buoy tucked beneath, just drifting in the water.

  ‘Tessa! Tessa!’

  Her eyelids rippled, just slightly, but enough to tell me that she was alive. I felt awash with relief. I found the severed part of my own rope and then, with clumsy, shaking hands, frayed the ends enough to tie them together. It formed a tethered section about forty centimetres long, sufficient for proximity yet with distance. A surge of laughter accompanied this last thought but I swallowed it, aware that if I allowed it space, I might never stop.

  I paddled us around until we faced the ship again. It was already some distance away, a cascading chandelier of lights on the darkening water. A faint slipstream of music followed in its wake. But there were no sirens sounding, no lifeboats being lowered, no pale faces peering at us in shock. Nobody had seen us fall. Nobody even knew we were missing. We were in serious trouble.

  Chapter 27

  We are having a wager on why you’re no longer writing your column. I think it’s because you’ve retired but the paper wants to keep using your name, while my friend Rose thinks you may have died. Could you (or someone else) please write and let us know. An éclair is riding on the answer.

  Tessa came to as I was bandaging her arm with a strip of material I had torn from my own shirt. I may have been a little rough. She flailed around, hitting me once on the shoulder. I could see by her face the moment that reality had sunk in. She began to cry.

  ‘It’s not over till it’s over,’ I said, mainly because it was the first thing that popped into my head. I wasn’t usually given to proverbs.

  She ignored me, staring at the receding ship instead. Fat tears dribbled down both cheeks and her nostrils gleamed wetly. She was not an attractive crier. ‘They’re leaving us. It’s so cold. I’m freezing.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘We’re going to die.’

  ‘At least we survived the fall,’ I said brightly. ‘So there’s always hope.’

  She leant forward to wipe her nose on her sleeve. ‘What are you? Bloody Pollyanna? We’re going to die. Just admit it.’

  ‘Okay, we’re going to die. Happy now?’

  She let out a strangled yelp, pointing past my shoulder. ‘There’s Phoebe!’

  I twisted around and sure enough, there was Phoebe, swimming towards us. I began paddling frantically backwards, using my hands as oars. Beside me, Tessa
was doing the same. Phoebe stopped, stretching out her arms to float some distance away. Her face was the same colour as the churn of the waves.

  ‘Help,’ she said simply, in a hoarse voice.

  Tessa was still trying to paddle away but was now anchored by my lack of movement. ‘Nell, no. Let her die.’

  ‘Help,’ said Phoebe again. ‘Please.’

  I stared at her. If I did nothing for long enough, then I wouldn’t have to do anything at all. She would just sink from view. It would be out of my hands.

  ‘Nell,’ said Tessa urgently. ‘She tried to kill us.’

  ‘I know.’ I raised my voice to call across to Phoebe. ‘Have you still got that knife? Show me your hands.’

  She lifted both arms, immediately sinking into the water. She spluttered back to the surface but it clearly took an effort.

  At what stage did you help someone who had shown that they were capable of murder? At what stage did you, could you, watch them die? I took a deep breath. ‘If we let you hang on to the rope, I swear that if you try anything, we’ll wrap it around your neck. There’s two of us and only one of you.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she replied weakly. ‘I promise.’

  I turned to Tessa. ‘We have to try. We can’t just leave her.’

  ‘I suppose. Okay. But I want it on the record I was not in favour.’

  ‘Duly noted.’ I began to paddle across, Tessa floating behind. When we reached Phoebe, she grabbed at the tied rope between the two buoys and then hung there, staring at the water. Her wet hair was all the same colour, the fringe plastered across her scalp.

  ‘You tried to kill us,’ said Tessa balefully. ‘You stabbed my arm.’

  Phoebe didn’t reply. Keeping an eye on her, I paddled sideways until I could see the ship again. It was no longer a chandelier but a disco ball, all the lights fused into a single star. It had left behind a salmon-grey sky, with the setting sun a crimson pustule on the horizon. The wake of the ship had parted, leaving a vast, rippling expanse of midnight blue. The juxtaposition of colours would have been beautiful if I had been elsewhere. Like sitting on the deck with a glass of wine.