Laura

by Amy Cross

  I wait for her to reply.

  Silence.

  “I never told anyone else,” I add. “I swear, I didn't even tell Nick. He'd passed out downstairs, anyway. We had the door locked and music was playing, so it's not like anyone could have overheard. There's literally nobody in the entire world who should have known what we did.”

  She pauses, before looking down at her phone.

  “Obviously someone knew, though,” I continue. “I don't know who, and I don't know how the hell they got a photo of it. They must have been watching us through the window, even though we were up on the top floor. They must have had a ladder, it's insane but...”

  My voice trails off. Again, I wait for her to reply, but she seems to be in too much of a state of shock.

  “We were drunk,” I add, “and we were -”

  “Stop,” she says suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Just stop.” She stares at the phone for a moment longer, before finally looking at me again. “I don't want to know.”

  “But we -”

  “I don't want to know!” she says firmly. “How could you have kept this from me for ten years?”

  “We were both drunk,” I remind her. “The next morning, I had no idea what to expect, what you'd say. When you told me you didn't remember anything, at first I thought it was your way of trying to pretend it had never happened. Please, Sophie, you have to believe me, I felt awful, I wanted to take it back. Do you seriously think I wanted our first kiss to be a drunken fumble?”

  “Our first kiss?” she replies, her voice trembling once again. “You were expecting more times?”

  We sit in silence for a moment. I honestly don't know what to say next, but I feel as if everything is ruined. I always told myself that I'd simply pretend that night with Sophie never happened, and in truth I was able to put it out of my mind after a while. Deep down, I always thought we'd get another chance to be together, and I wanted it to be perfect. I thought that so long as she had no idea about that drunken night, it would be like it had never happened. We could maybe have another first kiss one day.

  “I have to get out of here,” she says suddenly, getting to her feet.

  “Wait -”

  “No, I need to go.” She rushes past me, and a moment later I hear her hurrying up to the spare room. A few seconds after that, I hear her coming back down, and I head through to the hallway just as she sets her suitcase and backpack down. Grabbing her coat, she seems to be in a mad rush.

  “We need to talk about this,” I tell her.

  “There's nothing to talk about.”

  “But if -”

  “You remember it and I don't,” she continues, struggling for a moment to get her arm into one of the sleeves of her jacket. I reach out to help, but she pulls away. “Don't touch me,” she stammers.

  “Please just stay and -”

  “I'll stay with someone else,” she replies, pulling the door open and grabbing her bags. She can barely even look me in the eye. “Thanks for letting me stay last night, but I think it'd be better if I find somewhere else.”

  I step closer and instinctively put a hand on her arm.

  “Sophie -”

  “Don't touch me!” she shouts again, pulling away so fast that she stumbles and almost falls as she hurries out onto the front step. She glances at me for a fraction of a second, before turning and making her way toward the gate.

  “Call me and let me know you're okay!” I tell her, but she doesn't reply. It's as if she can't get away from me fast enough. “Sophie? Call me later!”

  No reply.

  “It was just a kiss!”

  But it's too late. She's already gone, and I'm left standing in the doorway, feeling as if I might have just lost my best friend in the whole world. A moment later, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, hoping against hope that it might be Sophie.

  Instead, I've received a message from an anonymous number.

  “Doesn't it feel nice to get that dirty little secret out into the open?” the message reads, sending a shiver through my chest. “I'm sure you'll see now that it's better to admit to these things yourself, rather than waiting for someone else to reveal them. Can you think of any other secrets that might come out soon, Elliot?”

  Part Four

  LAURA

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Twenty years ago

  Because I don't know what kind of flowers Mummy likes best, I decide to play it safe and pick daffodils. After all, everyone loves daffodils.

  There's a strong wind down by the beach. A man is walking his dog and another is strolling along with a metal detector, but I stay close to the coastal path so I can pick flowers. I end up with quite a lot, but I figure I can sort through them later when I get home, and I'll make sure I only give the best to Mummy.

  Finally, worried I might be late, I run home.

  ***

  “What are you doing with all those?” Nana asks as she comes into the kitchen.

  “Sorting them for Mummy,” I reply, not looking up as I continue to examine each daffodil in turn and arrange them into two piles. “One pile's for Mummy, and one pile's for a vase in my bedroom.”

  “I'm not sure you need to do all this,” Nana says, coming over to take a look. “It's your birthday, Laura. Wouldn't you rather be out having fun? Maybe go and see if Zena or Carol want to play.”

  “But Mummy will come to visit on my birthday,” I point out. “She has to.”

  She doesn't reply. Instead, she simply stands and watches as I continue to work with the flowers.

  “You remember what we talked about, don't you?” she asks finally.

  “About what?”

  “About your mother.”

  I feel a twinge of discomfort in my belly, but I don't say anything. Sometimes, Nana can be very serious.

  “Maybe we should have...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Laura, you do know what it means when someone's dead, don't you?”

  “Of course,” I say quietly, as I examine another daffodil.

  “Let's clear these up,” she says suddenly, gathering one of the two piles.

  “Those are for Mummy!” I shout, trying to grab them back. “Give them to me!”

  “You're too old for this nonsense,” she continues, taking the daffodils over to the bin and dropping them into the black plastic sack.

  “Stop!” I yell, horrified as I run over to save the flowers. Before I can do anything, however, Nana snaps their stalks and then pushes them further down into the sack.

  “Laura -”

  “Now I'll have to pick more!” I stammer, with tears in my eyes as I look down at the ruined flowers. “I'll have to go all the way back to the beach and -”

  “Laura, listen to me.”

  I turn and look up at her. Right now, I hate her more than I've ever hated anyone in my life. I want to hit her in the face with my fists, until she screams.

  “You can't act out like this,” she says firmly. “You're eleven years old, for God's sake, it's time for you to grow up just a little. Your mother is gone, and as I explained to your before, that's a blessed relief. You don't remember her, but trust me, she was not a good person.”

  “You don't know that,” I whisper, struggling to keep the tears from running down my face.

  “Of course I know that,” she replies. “You were six years old when she died, you barely even remember her. I had the dubious pleasure of knowing her for the entire thirty years of her life, and let me promise you, she was nothing but a slut and a whore.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

  “It means you need to forget about her and stop with these ridiculous fantasies that crop up every year on your birthday.” She hesitates, before placing a hand on my shoulder. “Laura, I'm more of a mother to you than she could ever have been. I practically am your mother, really. Perhaps you should start calling me Mummy from now on, so that you stop dreaming about the past.”

 
I pull back, not wanting her to touch me.

  “So that's agreed, is it?” she continues. “You'll call me Mummy from now on? I'd like that very much, Laura. I do so much for you, and you don't really give me very much in return. I have feelings too.” She smiles, before crouching in front of me. After licking her thumb, she wipes tears from my eyes. “You're such a pretty girl. You look a lot like me, and nothing at all like your biological mother. Come on, everything will be okay. You'll see. Just remember to call me Mummy from now on. Okay, Laura? After a while, it'll feel just like the truth.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ten years ago

  “Come on, don't fall asleep now!” I whisper, still filming through the bedroom window as Sophie and Elliot stop kissing. “I want some proper action!”

  Still, I guess they're just too drunk to consummate their booze-fueled snogging session. Elliot probably couldn't get it up right now anyway, not even for his darling Sophie.

  I keep filming for a few more minutes, just to make sure that they've passed out, and then I turn the camera off. Still, I remain at the top of the ladder for a moment, watching them both. There's something strangely calming about the fact that people are so totally predictable. They think they have free will and they think they're making decisions, but it's pretty obvious that they're going through life on rails.

  Finally I climb down and head into the kitchen, only to find a very drunk, barely awake Nick attempting to operate the oven.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, after watching him for a moment.

  “Melted cheese,” he mumbles, peering closely at the dials. Clearly unable to remember how to operate the damn thing, he takes a step back, but in the process he drops the slice of bread and cheese that he's been holding. “I can't... I don't...”

  “You're wasted,” I tell him, taking his hand and gently leading him away, before slipping past him and turning the oven on properly. “I'll do it for you.”

  “You will?”

  “I guess I'm nice like that.” I grab a fresh slice of bread and cut a slice of cheese.

  “You'd do all that for me?” he asks, slurring his words.

  “Only if you shut the hell up.”

  “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me,” he continues, lumbering closer and putting his arms around me from behind, squeezing me with a big hug. He stinks of beer and sweat. “Thank you, Laura. I don't know why everyone else thinks you're such a bitch. You're so nice to me!”

  I shudder as I hear those words. “Everyone thinks I'm a bitch, huh?”

  “I think you're lovely,” he continues, as I somehow manage to slide the bread and cheese into the oven and shut the door. “I think you're the loveliest... most lovely person... in the whole world.”

  “That's great,” I reply, “but -”

  Suddenly he clamps a hand over my right breast, squeezing tight.

  “Hey!” Pulling away, I turn and shove him back as he tries again. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” I ask. “Not cool, dude!”

  “You screw everyone else,” he replies, making no attempt to hide the fact that he's staring at my chest. “Am I ugly?”

  “I don't screw everyone else,” I say darkly, through gritted teeth. “And keep your hands to yourself!”

  “Everyone knows what you're like,” he continues, swaying slightly. “It's how you get people to like you, isn't it? You offer them a bit of flesh.” He pauses, and for a moment he looks like he might actually pass out. “Don't you want me to like you, Laura?”

  “I'm making you a snack, aren't I?”

  “You're so fine,” he adds, giggling slightly. “I bet those hips feel really good grinding against -”

  “Take the bread out in a couple of minutes,” I mutter, heading toward the door. Suddenly I feel kind of nauseous. “Try not to burn the house down in the process.”

  “Are you annoyed?”

  “No, I just -”

  “I'm just so lonely,” he continues, stumbling after me. “Do you know what it's like to go to bed all by yourself, night after night? I never have anyone to cuddle, Laura.”

  I turn and see that he's trying to light a cigarette.

  “You can't smoke in the house,” I remind him.

  “It's just one!” he replies, grinning as he puts a finger to his lips. “I won't tell anyone if you don't! I just...” He pauses. “I'm scared I'll be alone forever, Laura. I'm scared I'll never have anyone who loves me. When I think about what I'll be like in ten years' time, I see nothing but loneliness and fear.” He drops the unlit cigarette. “Is that how you think I'll end up? With no-one to cuddle at night? Do you think I'll never get a girl?”

  “I think you'll be fine,” I tell him, watching with a vague sense of disgust as he gets down onto his hands and knees, reaching under the counter in an attempt to get the cigarette back.

  “I bet you'll be a porn star,” he continues with a leery smile. “Everyone'll love your videos.”

  “Go screw yourself,” I snap, feeling as if everyone's starting to view me as some kind of nymphomaniac. “Do you want to know where I'll be in ten years?” I ask. “I'll be better off than any of the rest of you. I'll marry a good man, and we'll have more money than the lot of you put together. And you'll all look up to me and wish you'd been nicer, but it'll be too late by then, because I won't give a damn what happens to any of you!”

  “Don't say that,” he whimpers. “I really like you, Laura.”

  “Well, I think I've outgrown the rest of you,” I tell him. “Shit happens. Maybe one day soon you'll wake up, and I'll be long gone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Twenty years ago

  “Are you okay there?”

  Looking up, I'm startled to find that the man with the metal detector is standing just a few feet away. I thought he was all the way down at the other end of the beach, but I suppose I've been sitting here for a while now and I lost track of time.

  Sniffing back tears, I get to my feet.

  “I didn't mean to startle you,” he continues with a faint smile. “I was just looking for pennies, that's all. One time I even found an old Roman coin.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a twisted piece of metal.

  “Well, part of one, anyway,” he adds, holding it out toward me. “I always keep it in my pocket, for luck. Do you want to see?”

  I stare at the metal for a moment, before shaking my head.

  “It found it a couple of years ago,” he adds. “It's not really worth anything, but it's interesting. It's money people were using hundreds and hundreds of years ago, before any of us were born. It's the only thing I've ever really discovered out here that's actually worth showing off. Are you sure you don't want to see it?”

  I pause, before taking the piece of metal. It's rusty and damaged, but I think I can just about tell that it's a coin.

  “Do you live around here?” he asks. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure that you're okay. You look a little lost.”

  “I live over there,” I reply, turning and pointing to the houses over by the main road.

  “Well, as long as you're not upset or scared,” he continues. “It's a beautiful day.”

  “It's my birthday.”

  “It is? And you're spending it sitting out here all alone, crying? What's wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I hold the coin back out for him to take.

  “Keep it.”

  “It's yours.”

  “But it's your birthday. I have to give you a gift.”

  “Nana says I shouldn't take things from strangers,” I tell him. “She says I shouldn't even talk to them.”

  “Well, she's right. It's sensible to play things safe, but...” He pauses. “I'm going to go, and I'll let you get on with your birthday, and I hope you start smiling soon. By the way, it's a little hard to tell, but I think the man on the coin was an emperor named Maximian. It's from the third or fourth century and it's made of bronze.” He pauses again, as if he's on th
e verge of saying something else. “Happy birthday, kid,” he adds finally, saluting like an old soldier before turning and walking away.

  Sitting alone, I turn the scrap of metal over and examine its jagged edge. It looks like it was once torn in half, long ago.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ten years ago

  Morning sunlight streams down.

  They've been talking about me for a while now. Sitting up here in my room, I can hear hushed but urgent voices in the kitchen below. Sophie's there, and Elliot, and Nick too. Maybe someone else, it's hard to be sure. But I know they're talking about me, and they don't sound too happy.

  Well, whatever keeps them busy is fine by me. They're a bunch of gossiping assholes, anyway.

  Typing a different term into the search box, I wait for the results to come up. I still can't find any trace online of the man with the metal detector, although obviously my task is made more difficult by the fact that I don't even know his name. All I have to go on, really, is the area where he used to live, the fact that he was into hunting for treasure on the beach, and a few very vague, half-remembered details of what happened after the police got to him. I assume he wasn't actually sent to prison, since the evidence against him must have been pretty flimsy, but my grandmother told me he definitely got into trouble.

  Then again, she was a habitual liar, so I can't be certain that anything she said was true.

  Finally, a little after 9am, I hear the stairs creaking as someone comes up. It sounds like just one of them. I wonder who drew the short straw.

  Suddenly there's a knock on the door.

  “Laura? I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

  Closing my laptop, I immediately break into a broad, very fake smile.

  “Laura?”

  Getting to my feet, I head to the door and pull it open. Sure enough, Sophie is on the landing. She looks hungover as hell, and I honestly can't believe that she of all people is the one who was sent up to confront me about everything that's been going on. This morning couldn't get any better.