The Holiday

by T. M. Logan

  All in all, today had been a rubbish day. The ice cream at lunch had been nice, but that was about it. Everyone else had gone off to do fun things except his family, they didn’t really do anything; he just went into the village with his mum, had lunch and came back again, then Mum had gone to sleep and Lucy was being really weird and Dad didn’t want to play with him. Then Jake and Ethan’s mum had told everyone at dinner that they were going home early, like tonight, and that seemed really unfair because it meant that the only children left at the holiday house were him and his sister and Odette, who had told him six times now that she didn’t like boys.

  Something bad had happened last night but neither of the bigger boys would tell him what it was. From what Daniel had overheard from the grown-ups, Jake had been poorly and needed to be carried back to the villa by the dads. And today Jake was cross, especially after his mum had announced that they were going back to England. Everything was f-this and f-that. He’d always seemed a bit crazy, but today he was acting properly weird, like he didn’t care about anything any more. It made him even more unpredictable than usual. But it was also – in a weird way that Daniel couldn’t really explain – more exciting to be part of his gang, to be an insider for once, rather than on the outside.

  Jake crouched down suddenly and his brother followed suit. There was a man, up ahead in the trees, with his back to them. Jake and Ethan’s dad.

  ‘Jake?’ Alistair called out into the woods. ‘Ethan? Are you going to come back to the villa now, gents? We need to pack.’

  ‘Get down!’ Jake hissed under his breath.

  The three of them dropped flat behind a bush, watching Alistair. He stood, looking all around, one hand stroking his beard.

  ‘Jake?’ he called again. ‘Ethan? Time to go, come on.’

  With one final look around, he shook his head and began walking deeper into the woods, away from them.

  After a minute, Jake rose up to a kneeling position and the other two did the same.

  ‘You still got your lighters?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ethan replied, fishing in his pocket and holding out the blue plastic Bic lighter.

  Daniel nodded too, blushing, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Yeah.’

  The truth was, he’d managed to lose the little yellow lighter they’d given him for being a member of their gang. It had been in his bedroom. But he’d gone to look for it yesterday and it had disappeared. He searched under the bed, in his bedside drawer, in his empty suitcase, but it was nowhere to be found. He didn’t want to ask Jake and Ethan because they’d think he was stupid for losing it. It must have fallen out of his pocket when they were playing outside.

  It was a secret, a big secret, so it wasn’t like he could ask Mum and Dad if they’d seen it. He’d be in massive trouble if they knew he had such a Dangerous Thing. Although they’d both been a bit weird these past few days, like they weren’t really paying attention to anything but themselves. Mum seemed to be sad all the time and Dad was distracted; you’d say something to him and he would look at you like he was listening but he wasn’t really listening. Sort of like he was looking straight through you, then he’d say something random on a totally different subject.

  He wasn’t about to tell Jake and Ethan that, though.

  Ethan held out his lighter, sparking the flint to make a tall flame.

  ‘Still got loads of fuel left. Might as well have some fun before we have to go home.’

  Ahead of them, Odette wandered into the clearing in her little pink sundress, her long red hair held back with a sparkly tiara.

  She looked small and a bit lost, Daniel thought, down here in the woods on her own.

  Jake turned to him and grinned, putting the lighter back in his pocket.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he whispered. ‘Follow me.’

  65

  Izzy followed me into the dining room and we sat down at the end of the big table. There was a floor-to-ceiling window and I looked out over the landscape as if seeing it for the first time: such a breathtakingly beautiful place for something so ugly to happen. To the south, the clouds were much closer now, ominously close, a wall of grey and black blotting the light from the sky. The villa was quiet. Rowan was making cocktails in the kitchen – apparently to cheer us all up – while everyone else was spread out in the gardens and vineyard below.

  ‘Sorry for the cloak-and-dagger stuff at dinner,’ Izzy said. ‘Didn’t want to do this in front of everyone.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said tonelessly.

  She blew out a breath, blowing her fringe off her forehead.

  ‘This is tough, Kate, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and I know it’s the right thing to do under the circumstances. Since we’ve been friends for a long time.’

  ‘Right.’

  Not any more.

  Normally I’m good at keeping my emotions in check, but my anger was so hot I could barely bring myself to look at her. I’d been pushing it down, forcing it back down for so long now that I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when I finally set it free. And the bitch actually looked as if she felt sorry for me, giving me that sad little smile as if to say this is going to be tough on both of us. As if on cue, a tight little bubble of fury rose up inside me and it was all I could do to stop myself from reaching across the table and slapping her, really winding up and smacking her across the face as hard as possible.

  How could you do this, Izzy?

  But I didn’t hit her. Instead I clasped my hands together in my lap, fingers laced tight. I know what’s coming, I know what she’s going to tell me. Does that make it any easier? Is it a consolation? It doesn’t feel like it. It feels as if my life has been in freefall for the past week and I’m finally about to hit the ground. Terrified of the impact, but at the same time ready for it to be over.

  ‘Kate, I don’t know how to say this. I’ve agonised over whether to tell you about—’

  I cut her off. She doesn’t deserve this moment, doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of being the one to break it to me.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Izzy.’

  A ripple of surprise crosses her face.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Took me a while to work it out, but I got there eventually.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ There is confusion in her tone. ‘I was under the impression you didn’t know.’

  ‘Did Sean tell you that?’

  She nodded, slowly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He wanted to keep it a secret, did he? I saw you arguing before dinner.’

  ‘He, erm . . . no. He thought it was better to keep it under wraps.’

  ‘Of course he did.’

  She hesitates, as if choosing her words carefully. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘I’ve known the basics since last week. And the rest for a couple of days. Do you remember when Sean sent you a message on Tuesday, asking to meet? It wasn’t him that sent that, it was me.’

  ‘Tuesday?’

  ‘I unlocked his phone and found your conversation on Messenger. Your secret little trail of messages about what’s been going on.’ I thought about our conversation at the Gorges d’Héric on Monday morning, feeling the anger at her betrayal surge again. ‘In fact, why didn’t you just tell me on Monday? Didn’t I at least deserve a bit of honesty? Why wait until today?’

  She frowned. ‘Well, for one thing, because I didn’t realise on Tuesday that—’

  The door flew open and Rowan burst into the room, her eyes wide with alarm.

  ‘You two! Oh my God, you have to come! Now!’

  Then she was gone, clattering away on her heels towards the back of the villa.

  Izzy and I jumped up and followed her out onto the balcony. For the first time since we arrived, the afternoon sun had disappeared behind huge dark clouds that were blanketing the sky. The wind had picked up and it whipped the hair around our faces, the air almost fizzing with the pressure of an impending thunderstorm.

/>   ‘Guys!’ Rowan said breathlessly. ‘Do you see that?’

  We turned to look where she was pointing. Down into the vineyard, where the rows of vines met the treeline on the edge of the woods.

  Smoke.

  66

  Odette

  Odette crouched in a nest of leaves, her arms tucked tightly around her knees.

  She had to be quiet. Very quiet, because the boys were letting her play their game for the first time. Well, she had told the boys she was going to play and she thought they were going to laugh and tell her to go away, but they didn’t. They said OK, told her she could play, and didn’t even mind when she told them she was going to be the hider instead of the seeker. Except it wasn’t hide-and-seek – hide-and-seek was for babies – it was a better game called sardines. One person hid and the others had to count to fifty without looking. Then they all had to come and find her, on their own, and the first one to find her hid in her hiding place too. They hid together, squeezed in tight like baby mice. And then the next and the next, until only one person was still looking and then that person was the loser. But if she could stay hidden until they all gave up, then she would be the winner.

  The boys had told her to go into the woods to hide and then they would try to find her.

  And she had such a good hiding place that she didn’t think they would find her even if they looked for an hour. Even if they looked until it got to bedtime. She was in a little dip, a hollowed-out bit of the ground in the woods where there was a big tree trunk that had fallen over. Because she was small – and quite bendy – she had been able to squeeze up inside a bit of the trunk where it was hollow in the middle and make a little nest for herself among the crunchy leaves and pine needles, like a hamster or something. It was hard to see out because there was a bush in the way, but she could just about make out the little path and the clearing where her mum said she wasn’t allowed to go.

  She was good at hiding. She could hide all day. She would show them that she was big enough to play their games, that she could join in just like them and be a big girl. That she could even win their games if she wanted to.

  The tree trunk had a funny smell, a musty, fusty smell like the wood Daddy stacked in piles by the fire at home. It was dark and there were a few little bugs too, creepy-crawlies busy going up and down the inside of the bark, but she didn’t mind them, not really, because if they got close she would just do what her daddy did when there was a spider or a fly or any sort of little beastie. She would take her shoe off and just whack it with the heel. Splat. No more bug. Mummy tried to save them with a glass and a postcard but Daddy never did. He just whacked them.

  Odette sat, her chin resting on her knees, and wondered what a sardine was. Daniel said a sardine was a fish but that couldn’t be right: fish lived in the sea. Maybe it was like a kind of mouse? Or a hamster? Sardine sounded like a funny name. She wished that Lucy was playing the game with them; Lucy was so pretty, the prettiest girl she’d ever seen. She looked like a princess, or maybe even more beautiful than a princess. Sometimes she’d wished on the holiday that Lucy was her big sister so they could play together every day and do each other’s hair and all those things that sisters did. But Lucy wasn’t there when they started the game, so she couldn’t play.

  She froze. There was a noise, footsteps on the path. Voices talking, laughing, deep voices. Grown-ups? No. The boys.

  She tried to keep herself very still, as still as a statue like when you played that game at a birthday party, holding her breath until the boys passed by. They were talking in low voices. When she peeped through the gap in the tree trunk she could see their feet on the path, see them walking in a line and whacking sticks on each tree as they passed. Her cheeks burned with indignation. They weren’t supposed to be together, they were supposed to be searching on their own. Doing it in a team was cheating, it really wasn’t fair. Boys always cheated. That was why she didn’t like playing with them. Not normally.

  She felt like crawling out of her hiding place and telling them off, telling them the proper rules and how sardines was supposed to be played. Making them do it properly. But then she’d have to give away the secret place she’d found inside the fallen tree trunk.

  Their footsteps moved away, further into the trees. When she was sure they were gone, she shifted position a little bit inside the tree trunk to get more comfortable, resting her back against the smooth curve of the bark. It was actually quite nice in here, she could make a proper little nest with her dolls and have tea parties with—

  The boys were back, coming from the other side this time. They were making a lot of noise again, telling each other to shush and then sniggering; and close, so close, they must be standing right next to the tree trunk without even realising she was in there! Odette had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Boys were so stupid.

  Jake’s voice was loud in the quiet of the woods.

  ‘She’s not here, lads.’ More snorting laughter from the other two boys. ‘It’s a proper mystery, I don’t know where she can have got to. Maybe she’s gone down into the gorge.’

  The sound of them tramping away through the leaves again.

  Odette kept watch through her little peephole in case the boys came back. They had been right next to her, without even realising she was there! She was going to win. It would be so funny when she told them how close they’d been.

  It was warm in her secret hiding place. Cosy. And it was so hard to sleep in her holiday bed . . . it was different to her normal bed at home, too hard; but then sometimes it was too soft, and she couldn’t usually get comfy without all of her toys. Her nest inside the fallen tree was quite comfy though, even if some of the leaves were a bit scratchy. She actually felt more comfy in here than in her holiday bed.

  Her eyes felt heavy.

  She let them close.

  *

  She woke without even realising she’d been asleep. Her shoulder ached where she’d leaned on it against the bark, and the light outside was a bit different. But no one had found her. None of the boys had guessed where her hiding place was. She was going to win.

  Outside in the woods it was getting noisier.

  Voices, shouting the names of all the children.

  Shouting her name.

  ‘Odette! Where are you?’

  Odette knew what they were doing: they were trying to trick her into coming out, show where her hiding place was. They were trying to make her look silly.

  She smiled to herself. She was cleverer than them. She would show them. Something smelled bad though, like when Mum burned her toast and made the alarm go off at home. But Odette wasn’t going to fall for that one – she knew what boys were like.

  She wasn’t going to give up that easily, not when it was her turn to hide.

  She wasn’t going to come out for those silly boys.

  She wasn’t going to come out for anyone.

  67

  For a second, the three of us just stood and stared.

  A pall of billowing smoke rolled across the vineyard, blanketing the hillside in a thick, grey cloud. Orange flames licked up the vines near the woods, creeping from one to the next as they watched. Flames were visible in the woods too, flaring and dancing in the muggy late afternoon air, the air above warped and billowing out of shape from the heat. Everything down there – everything for miles around – was bone dry after weeks of unbroken summer sunshine. Everything was ready to burn.

  Rowan moved first.

  ‘Oh my God!’ There was panic in her voice. ‘The children are down there! All of them!’

  She ran headlong down the stone steps, taking them two at a time, with Izzy and I following close behind. Running through the wrought-iron gate out into the vineyard we almost bowled into Alistair coming back up the other way. He was red-faced and out of breath, cradling his left arm in his right as if protecting an injury.

  ‘Got to get my phone,’ he said, scrambling sideways. ‘Call the pompiers.’

&
nbsp; ‘Are you OK?’ Izzy shouted back at him.

  He waved a dismissive hand and stumbled on towards the villa.

  We rushed through the gate and into the vineyard, Izzy in front, then me, with Rowan at my shoulder. Her panicked voice was right behind me as we pounded down the hill towards the flames.

  ‘Odette!’ she shouted. ‘Odette! I’m coming!’

  I couldn’t see anyone. Any of the children, or the men, for that matter. All I could see was smoke, thick grey smoke rising up from the bottom of the vineyard and in the woods too, tongues of orange flame licking at the trees and the row of vines nearest to the woods. Something stuck in my head about the sight but there was no time to process it, no space in my head for anything except Daniel and Lucy.

  We ran on, tendrils of drifting smoke reaching for us, trying to choke us. My breath rasped loud in my ears and at some point I lost my flip-flops, flying off my feet as we sprinted towards the woods. The stony ground cut into my feet but I barely noticed.

  As we approached the treeline, Izzy shouted over her shoulder, ‘I’ll find Jen.’

  She veered off left into the woods.

  I went right, cutting across the rows of vines towards the path that wound through the trees, shouting as I went.

  ‘Daniel! Lucy!’ I waved a hand in front of me, swatting at the sheets of smoke. ‘Where are you?’

  No answer.

  Panic started to rise in the back of my throat like bile. The smoke was a hazard and the flames would be dangerous if they spread much further, but the real danger was what was hiding on the far side of the clearing. A cliff edge and a 100-foot drop onto the rocks below, just waiting for one misstep, one confused stride in the wrong direction among the smoke and chaos.

  ‘Daniel! Lucy! Can you hear me?’

  The heat was strong on my face from the crackle and hiss of flames as they leapt from branch to branch. I pulled in a lungful of acrid smoke and instantly started coughing, trying to call out again before the words were cut short by a retching, choking gag that tore at my throat.