Poison Heart

by S. B. Hayes

  I stayed completely straight-faced. ‘Very funny. I should have listened to my first instinct. I knew there was something sinister about her.’

  ‘She knows just how to get at you, Kat. She’s probably found out you’re a sucker for tales of hideous crones with pointy hats and big noses.’

  I smiled weakly. ‘If she came at me with a knife then I’d know where I stood.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You’re not going to let her carry on like this?’

  ‘I can’t stop her,’ I told him in all seriousness. ‘She’s just too strong.’

  Luke refilled his cup from the percolator on the stove, brow furrowed in concentration. I idly glanced around his kitchen, admiring the reflective white surfaces that flooded the space with light and the smart stainless-steel appliances, trying to forget the decor in our own kitchen. Mum had kept our 1970s knotty pine units and an ancient brown cooker that the scrap merchant probably wouldn’t even want.

  When Luke spoke I could smell the coffee on his breath. ‘But that’s the point, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘This girl, Genevieve, seems to know all your weaknesses, almost as if …’

  ‘We mean something to each other,’ I finished. ‘Except I never in my life set eyes on her until a few weeks ago.’

  There was a shout of greeting as Luke’s mum came through the front door. She came over and hugged me, chattering as she put away her shopping. I could see Luke making a gesture behind her back towards the door.

  ‘Mum, I’m helping Kat with … an English assignment, so we’ll have to go upstairs and use my computer. It’s a good job you’re not a proper girl,’ he joked, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘Mum disapproves of me taking Laura to my bedroom.’

  I didn’t mind the ‘proper girl’ comment; in my eyes he was still the messy boy with the thatch of blond hair who made model aeroplanes and painted plastic soldiers. Laura had been Luke’s girlfriend for almost three years, but his mum still treated them like teenagers who needed a chaperone. I tried to look impressed by his bedroom because the tatty carpet had been replaced by pale laminate flooring and the old pine wardrobe by sleek built-in sliding units. Luke now had a double bed with leather headboard, and smooth white walls, no posters in sight, but there were still dirty socks on the floor and papers strewn all over his desk and it still smelt like it did when he was fourteen.

  Luke picked up a marker pen and stood in front of the whiteboard which was hanging on one wall. This felt like being in a detective show and I felt a small shiver running through me. He cleared his throat importantly.

  ‘Look, I did a piece on stalking once and picked up some of the psychological stuff. I’ll throw out a few possibilities.’

  ‘OK.’

  The first possibility is that you have something she wants, which makes you a threat.’

  ‘She wants everything,’ I sighed.

  Luke began to write. ‘She has an urge to make you suffer as well. An irrational but very focused vendetta.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ I agreed darkly.

  ‘What could she possibly have against you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I wailed. ‘I’ve done nothing to her … except … look back.’

  ‘Look back?’

  As I remembered that day, I could still feel the sun burning my face and her eyes boring into me. ‘I was on the bus and she was on another bus and she stared at me … really hard. It all began then.’

  ‘You don’t do all this just because of a face at a window.’

  ‘She did.’

  Luke scratched his chin. ‘Mmm. She’s gone out of her way to collect information about you, which is obviously important to her. It gives her the upper hand and makes you vulnerable. It proves her campaign is carefully thought out and has taken time and effort.’

  ‘Obviously she doesn’t have much of a social life,’ I grunted sarcastically.

  ‘There’s an element of power in the stalker. They want to feel in control of you.’

  ‘And manipulation. She plays games.’

  ‘Very good,’ Luke praised, and I felt absurdly pleased.

  With a series of arrows he connected all his points together in a circle. ‘This all comes back to my belief that she – Genevieve – knows you from somewhere and—’

  ‘Impossible,’ I interrupted.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘she’s targeted you because of something she believes has happened between you, a case of mistaken identity.’

  ‘She can’t have confused me with someone else,’ I said slowly. ‘She knows too much about me.’

  He sat down beside his desk, picked up a glass paperweight and turned it over in his hand. ‘She might be a complete fantasist who’s made up the whole thing in her own head and dislikes you for no reason at all.’

  ‘That sounds bad,’ I answered. ‘Because if it’s fixed in her head then no amount of denial will change it and I can’t reason with her.’

  ‘Want my advice, Kat?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘While this is going on, you have to be brave and take everything she throws at you. Don’t show any emotion, because she’s looking for maximum impact.’

  I screwed up my face. ‘So just take it – the insults and everything?’

  ‘Play your own game and be reasonable, calm and polite. It’ll annoy her like hell.’

  I thought about this for a moment. ‘I suppose it will. She wants to get at me… but I pretend she doesn’t.’

  ‘And promise me you won’t dwell on the stupid witch stuff. If she makes you believe she has unexplainable powers, then you’ll never try to stop her. She’s real – hideous but real – and we’ll defeat her with logic and cunning, nothing else.’

  ‘Logic and cunning,’ I repeated.

  Luke gave me a big thumbs-up. ‘And here’s the best bit: she knows things about you, but you know nothing about her, so now it’s our turn.’

  ‘What have you got planned?’

  He tapped the side of his nose. ‘A journalist never reveals his sources but I told you I’d always be there for you.’

  I gave a rueful smile. When Luke was in Year 11 and I was in Year 7, he stopped me from being bullied with a promise that I could always count on him, a promise he hadn’t forgotten.

  ‘The weird thing about all this, Luke … I’m not the kind of girl other girls envy. I’m so ordinary.’

  ‘Don’t put yourself down,’ he answered casually. ‘I think you’re special.’

  I opened my eyes in surprise at this unusual compliment, but he immediately put one finger in his mouth and made a gagging noise.

  ‘Whereas Genevieve,’ I went on, ‘she could light up a whole room. She’s got this way about her … charisma, self-assurance, magnetism … whatever it is, she’s got bucketloads.’

  Luke took hold of one of my hands to calm me down. His were warm and reassuring but surprisingly rough.

  ‘Dad’s roped me into helping him work on the house,’ he explained, examining his palm. ‘And he’s a real slave-driver.’

  I didn’t want to leave, but he picked up his car keys and jangled them impatiently. I stood up cautiously and held on to a chair because the room was still slightly tilting.

  ‘What about Laura?’ I asked with concern. ‘She’s just welcomed you home and now you’re off on some wild goose chase for me.’

  ‘She’ll understand … I’m sure she will. Mind how you go, Kat.’

  I walked back to my house feeling better and more together. Luke had made me see that there was a way out of this. I was going to fight for what was mine and not fall into the trap of being set up again. I took some tablets for my migraine and went to my room. It was soothing to be alone. I meant to work on some designs, but my head still ached and I sat staring out of the window. My desk was deliberately arranged so that it faced our garden, which was only a small patch of straggly grass dotted with overgrown shrubs, but it still inspired me. The clouds were indistinct and raggedy today, reminding me of flotsam spread on water, but a pla
ne had left a trail in the sky that looked like two crossed spears.

  I was busy studying the emerging pattern when the room darkened and a bird appeared from nowhere and sat on the ledge, staring right in at me. It looked distinctly like a crow – jet black with a huge wingspan and beady yellow eyes. It pecked on the glass for a few seconds and then seemed to fall. I raced downstairs in case it was hurt and might become victim to Gemma’s sharp claws, but all that was left was a large black tail feather lying on the patio. I picked it up and ran it through my fingers. The oily texture made me shudder so I put it in the bin. On impulse I went upstairs to grab the pendant and threw that away as well, wondering why I hadn’t done this sooner.

  My mood nosedived again when I delved into my bag only to discover that my key ring was missing. It contained my first photograph of Merlin and was undoubtedly my most prized possession. When everything had spilled out of my bag at college it definitely hadn’t been left on the toilet floor, and the unwelcome thought came to me that Genevieve had stolen it for a reason.

  Mum and I spent a gloomy evening together watching TV. At bedtime I realized that no one had even rung to see how I was.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  It was lunchtime before I had the chance to confront Hannah and Nat. I slunk over to their table in the cafeteria, my eyes still red and bloodshot from yesterday. My performance was worthy of an Oscar.

  ‘Will you let me explain?’ I began, pulling up a chair to sit down. They both seemed embarrassed, confused and a bit standoffish. My voice faltered, which wasn’t put on because I really was nervous. ‘I … I should have told you how bad things were at home. I just haven’t been coping and it’s making me … really bad-tempered and a bit weird.’ The first tear rolled down my cheek and on to the ugly plastic table. Several more followed and I wiped my face with one hand.

  The reaction was immediate. They both moved over and put their arms around me.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Hannah cried. ‘We could have helped.’

  ‘We knew you were stressed,’ Nat added. ‘You’ve coped with so much; it was bound to get to you eventually.’

  The group hug lasted for minutes until I broke free. ‘Mum’s going to get some help – talk to people and try some counselling.’

  Nat pummelled my arm until it hurt. ‘That’s great. I’m going to buy you a double latte with chocolate sprinkles to celebrate.’

  ‘I don’t deserve you two.’ I sniffed some more. ‘Thanks for being so understanding.’

  ‘That’s what friends are for,’ Hannah declared, just as Genevieve walked through the door. Our eyes met and time stood still. She tried to compose her expression at the sight of our three happy shiny faces, but she failed miserably. I saw rage and disbelief fighting one other. She moved forward, attempting to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  And now for the real scene-stealer. I stood up, dried my tears and walked towards her. My arms enveloped her slim body and she immediately recoiled, but I held on grimly, enjoying her discomfort. We were locked together in a weird symbiotic embrace and I could almost believe that some of her blood was now coursing through my veins.

  My voice was deliberately raised so that everyone could hear. ‘Sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. That’s not like me at all. I’ve had some problems at home.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she muttered ungraciously. ‘I really wasn’t bothered.’

  ‘No. It was awful of me. You do forgive me?’

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ she replied woodenly.

  ‘And we’re friends?’

  I let go of her and she flinched as though she’d been struck. Nat had turned away for a minute, her purse open, asking Hannah for change. Genevieve took advantage of their distraction.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ she whispered malevolently.

  I threw back my head and laughed like a drain. ‘Genevieve! You’ve got a wicked sense of humour.’

  She wasn’t expecting this reaction and the flush that spread across her face gave me a thrill of power. I’d seen a chink in her armour and I was determined not to let up. For the next hour I laughed, swivelled on my chair and kept up a stream of bright brittle chatter to show everyone how completely at ease I was. I made sure to include Genevieve in every conversation and continually used her name, even shortening it to Gen. Her green eyes grew larger with disgust. The bad vibes between us were so strong I thought everyone must be able to feel them, but when I glanced at Nat and Hannah there was no recognition.

  After a while, the strangest thing started to happen – Genevieve began to droop before my very eyes, like a wilting flower. The more I acted, and the more I talked, and the more I pretended that she didn’t get under my skin, the weaker she became, as though we were in a tug of war and I was winning. I blinked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Her eyes went dull, her speech dried up until she spoke only in monosyllables and even her hair seemed to lose its lustre. She was the invisible one now, while I glowed.

  After lunch Nat and Hannah went to classes, which left Genevieve and me alone together. Part of me actually relished this as I tried to stop my own Cheshire Cat grin from filling my face.

  ‘Think you’re clever?’ she said.

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Whatever you’re up to, it won’t work …’

  ‘You’re the one playing games.’

  She moved closer, her eyes almost hypnotizing me. ‘Don’t underestimate me. It really isn’t a game.’

  I squared up to her, straightening my back and lifting my chin. ‘It’s obvious you crave attention and don’t care how you get it.’

  She spoke with real menace. ‘Don’t practise your amateur psychology on me. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

  I gave a mock shiver. ‘Ooh, you’re terrifying me.’ She didn’t move a muscle and could stare for ages without blinking. Eventually I had to look away. ‘I don’t dislike you, Genevieve, and I don’t hold grudges.’

  ‘Obviously, Katy, I’m not trying hard enough. When this is over you’ll detest me so much you’ll want to …’

  She left the rest unsaid. I gave my best benevolent smile, remembering Luke’s advice to stay calm. ‘We’re not the same. I don’t feel that way. If you must know, I feel sorry for you … all that hatred must eat you up inside.’

  She studied me with contempt and moved away, slinging her bag over one shoulder. ‘You’re wrong,’ she said easily. ‘It’s what keeps me alive and makes me strong.’

  On my way out I bumped right into Merlin. He did an about-turn, taking a few steps backwards and looking me up and down.

  ‘There’s something different about you.’

  ‘Is there?’ I teased. I didn’t have to look in a mirror, I could feel my skin shining and my hair bouncing with victory.

  ‘You look so amazing … no … I mean, you always look amazing, but today you look especially amazing. Your eyes are so … luminous.’

  He leaned forward and ran his fingers through my curls. ‘When the painting’s finished, I want it to reflect your face right now, this very second.’

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a door recess, not even caring if the college principal walked by and suspended us for inappropriate behaviour. My cheeks burned with his long hot kisses. How could I have even thought about Genevieve taking him away from me?

  ‘Katy, we’re leaving right now,’ he croaked. ‘We’ll sneak away together … go somewhere, anywhere …’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve already been seen by Miss Clegg.’

  ‘Tell her you’re ill.’

  ‘I can’t afford to miss any work.’

  ‘After college then.’

  ‘I promised Mum I’d come straight home.’

  He sighed with disappointment. ‘You always seem to be rushing somewhere or fretting about your mum.’

  I stood on tiptoe and and held his face between my hands. ‘We will be together … soon.’

  He closed his eyes. ‘Is that a pr
omise?’

  ‘It’s a promise.’

  ‘Katy Rivers … you’re absolutely amazing,’ Merlin said, gluing his lips to mine.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe anything horrible about me?’ I panted, as we finally pulled apart.

  ‘Never. Why would I?’

  A sudden feeling of dread swept over me. ‘Someone might do or say things that’ll make me look really … bad.’

  ‘It wouldn’t alter what I think of you.’

  ‘Honest?’ I grinned.

  ‘Honest.’ He grinned back, kissing my nose.

  I sheepishly crept into my next class late, jealously guarding the memory of every touch and every word that had passed between us. He saw the real Katy. Nat and Hannah might waver, but Genevieve could never succeed in poisoning Merlin’s mind against me. I drifted off, replaying everything in my head, delicious prickles of excitement running through me. It didn’t last for long. I came down to earth with sudden terror, remembering my promise and realizing just what I’d agreed to. I needed some advice, and quickly.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Hannah pushed open her bedroom door with one foot, her arms full, and threw everything on to the bed.

  ‘Chick-flick DVDs, popcorn, muffins, mags, smoothies, marshmallows, chocolate spread, nail varnish, hair tongs, make-up box … This is a great idea of yours, Katy.’

  Nat lay against the pillow reading. She burst open the packet of popcorn and crunched madly. ‘We haven’t had a girlie night in for ages.’

  Hannah picked up her hula hoop and began gyrating her hips wildly. Even just hanging around the house in a slouchy tracksuit without make-up, her hair scraped off her face, she still looked great. ‘What’s first, Katy? Movie or hairstyle? Who fancies a beehive?’

  ‘Just wanted a chat really,’ I mumbled. ‘About … things.’

  Nat immediately closed her magazine and shuffled towards me. ‘This is serious.’

  ‘No, no, it isn’t,’ I protested feebly. ‘But some things are a bit … personal and need more … privacy.’

  Hannah’s eyes looked huge in her delicate face. She dropped the hoop and joined us on the bed and now I was sandwiched between them both. I flopped backwards, keeping my feet on the floor, and stared at the pink chandelier, unsure if I was ready to open up. Her room was so cool, decorated in a French shabby chic style with duck-egg-blue walls, a canopy over her bed, and a series of blown-up prints from her last visit to Paris, all showing Hannah next to famous landmarks.