by Amy Cross
“Help me,” I gasp, although to my shock I find that I can barely get the words out at all. “Help...”
“What was that?” he replies. “I can't hear a word you're saying.”
“Help,” I stammer as loud as possible. “I'm hurt! I'm on the beach, I fell somewhere near the golf course, I need...”
I flinch as I feel another flash of pain in my ankle, but at the same time I'm starting to feel really tired. I'm shivering violently, as well, and my shaking leg keeps grinding my ankle against the chunk of metal.
“Give me the phone,” a voice says on the other end of the line, and in my daze I realize it's Sophie. “No-one here wants anything to do with you, Laura!” she says firmly. “Leave us alone!”
“Call an ambulance,” I whisper. “Please...”
“Whatever,” she says with a sigh. “We're all sick of your dumb games.”
“Help me!” I hiss, trying to cut the call so I can dial 999 and get an ambulance. “I'm hurt, I'm really -”
“Let me put you on speaker,” Sophie continues, and I hear a faint clicking sound. “There. Now we can all hear you, Laura. Me, Elliot, Nick, Jonathan, Jonathan's new girlfriend Victoria. Everyone can hear your dumb, sniveling little voice. So come on, then. Entertain us.”
“Do we really have to do this?” Nick can be heard muttering. “I thought we were going to the pub.”
“Go to hell!” Sophie yells, and now she sounds drunk. A moment later, she puts some music on, and I hear beer-cans being opened.
“Wait!” I gasp. “I'm down by the golf course. I need help...”
“Oh my God,” an unfamiliar voice says over the phone, “we have to check out that new bar tonight. I think they're doing student discounts. Two cocktails for a fiver!”
“We could head down there now!” Sophie suggests excitedly. “Hey, does everyone wanna go to that new bar? I don't remember what it's called, but it's on Tannery Road.”
“Help,” I whisper, feeling a sharp pain in the back of my throat. “Please...”
“Grab your coats!” Elliot yells.
“Already wearing mine!” Nick mutters.
“After the week I've had,” Jonathan adds, “I could use a drink or two.”
“Come on, then!” Sophie shouts. “Last one out the front door has to buy the first round!”
“Help me,” I stammer, still unable to see my phone properly as the tide continues to come in. “Please, I'm at the beach, just call an -”
Suddenly my phone goes dark. I tap the screen, trying to bring it back to life, before realizing that the battery must have finally failed.
“No,” I whisper, trying not to panic as I press the button on the side. “Come on, I need you. Please...”
Rain is still falling all around me, and the tide is continuing to come in, washing over me as I fumble with the phone. Finally, realizing that I have to get out of here, I toss the phone aside and try to reach down to my foot. In the process, however, I feel a sudden rush of dizziness that forces me to slump back against the cold pebbles.
“Help,” I gasp, unable to raise my voice above a whisper. “Please, somebody, you have to -”
Before I can finish, another rush of seawater hits the side of my face. I have no idea what part of the beach I'm on, exactly, but in just a few minutes the tide already feels a little higher. If I'm down by the foot of the sea-wall, I might be in one of the rock-pools, and I know that those can fill with water.
Realizing that I have to face the pain, I somehow manage to sit up. Reaching down, I take hold of my ankle and tell myself that no matter how much it hurts, I have to get this piece of metal out. I take a moment to brace myself, and then I slowly start lifting my ankle.
The pain is worse than I ever imagined. Screaming, I fall back as I feel hot blood erupting from the wound, running down my leg.
I take a deep breath before trying again, but I feel dizzy and I can barely even think straight. Finally I start lifting again, and this time I push through the pain even though I can feel the metal grinding against a section of bone. Tears are streaming down my face, but suddenly my ankle comes loose and I roll onto one side, gasping as I feel blood rushing from the hole.
A moment later my face is hit by a rush of seawater, some of which goes into my mouth.
Coughing and spluttering, I roll onto my front and try to crawl to safety, but my hands are trembling so much now, I can barely grip the rocks at all. Instead, I end up shivering as the tide continues to crash against the rocks all around me, and I can't even scream.
“Help,” I stammer, feeling weaker and weaker. “Someone, please...”
Suddenly a huge wave crashes over me. I try to cling onto the slippery rocks, but there's nothing I can do to save myself. Screaming, I'm washed away by the tide, quickly slipping beneath the surface and tumbling into the darkness below.
Part Five
VICTORIA
Chapter Thirty-One
Today
Pulling open the front door, I'm surprised but rather pleased to find Sophie standing outside, with a suitcase and backpack at her feet.
“My dear,” I say with a faint smile, “are you okay? You look rather pale.”
“We have to talk about Laura,” she replies, with fear in her voice. “Someone's been trying to destroy my life, and I think it's the same person who's been coming after you.”
She pauses, and I swear there are tears in her eyes. She looks utterly devastated, as if the color has drained from her face. All her usual cockiness and arrogance has faded away, replaced by fear.
“It's about Laura,” she continues. “It has to be. It's about the night Laura died.”
Part Six
NICK
Chapter Thirty-Two
Today
Waking up early on Saturday morning, around 6am, I decide the first thing I should do is go straight to bed.
“Oh God,” I whisper, hauling myself off the living room floor as I feel my head starting to throb. At the same time, my belly gurgles, and I realize that I might have had a few too many beers last night. Belching, I feel for a moment as if I might be about to throw up, but I stand completely still for a moment and slowly the sensation passes.
Taking a deep breath, I realize that I don't remember very much from last night. I was out having some drinks with a couple of colleagues from work, but they turned out to be far too boring. After they headed home just after eleven, I decided to have one more drink, and I went to a bar near the train station. And then...
And then what?
Reaching into my pockets, I quickly find a crumpled receipt. Pulling it out, I take a look and see to my horror that I spent £56 on a single round of drinks. I guess I must have bought one for everyone in the bar, which is something I tend to do sometimes when I get really merry. I'm sure I was Mr. Popular, at least for a while. I just wish I could remember.
Just as I'm about to toss the receipt aside, I turn it over and see that there's a phone number scribbled on the back in blue ink, along with a letter.
“L?” I mumble.
Who the hell is L?
I pause, trying to remember.
Nope. Nothing comes to mind.
Folding the receipt and slipping it into my pocket, I stumble through to the hallway and then into the bathroom. I feel rough as old leather, and I need to splash some water on my face before I go to bed. I remember back at uni when I could easily have a big night out and still be fine the next morning. Now that I'm in my early thirties, however, I'm definitely starting to feel a few more aches and pains. In fact, when I get to the bathroom and look in the mirror, I'm pretty horrified by the bags under my eyes. Damn it, I'm starting to look my age.
After wetting my face a little, I sit on the toilet lid and start rolling a cigarette.
And that's when I have a flash of memory.
I was at a bar last night and some random girl had her arms around my neck. She was hanging from me, forcing me to support all her weight, but at the same time s
he was looking up into my face and laughing. I can't remember her features, mainly because the light in the bar was so low, but I have a vague memory of bright, glistening lipstick and huge, obviously fake lashes. She had a jiggling cleavage, too, and some kind of black dress with a zipper all the way down the front. She was pretty, I'm sure of that, and after a moment I realize that I remember her writing her number on the back of my receipt.
“L,” I whisper, taking the receipt out and taking another look.
I'm not an ugly man, but I'm not jaw-droppingly handsome either. Girls don't usually throw themselves at me in bars, but I guess it's possible that a few beers put me in a good mood last night.
Maybe I chatted her up.
Maybe we had something in common.
Maybe the stars just aligned for me.
I hesitate for a moment, before taking my phone from my pocket, figuring that maybe I could send a brief SMS to this L girl. Before I have a chance, however, I see that there's a message on the screen, warning me that my photo albums are full. I swipe to take a look, and I'm surprised to find hundreds and hundreds of photos and videos showing the girl from last night.
“Well hello there, L,” I mutter, swiping through a few of them.
Unfortunately, the low light in the shots means that I still can't really see her face properly. It's absolutely clear that we spent a lot of time together, though, and I can't help noticing the way her dress plunged at the front, revealing a rather ample amount of cleavage poking out at the top of the zipper. Realizing that I might have actually struck lucky last night, I allow myself a faint smile as I bring up an SMS window and start typing a message.
“Hey there L,” I read out loud as I type. “Hope you're feeling okay this morning. We need to do that again soon.”
I pause.
No, that's too casual.
“Hello L,” I try again. “Good morning to you. I hope you had fun last night. Yours, Nick.”
I read it back.
Rolling my eyes, I delete the message a try another.
“Hey there L,” I type again, figuring that was a good enough opening. “Had fun last night. Let me know if you wanna do it again.”
I read the message back, then I change 'wanna' to 'want to', and then I tap to send. As soon as that's done, I immediately realize that I might have made a terrible mistake. I should have waited and played it cool, and given her a chance to get in touch first. And if she hadn't sent a message, I should have eventually sent something more casual after a few days. Now I probably look desperate. I don't want her to think that I'm desperate. I'm not desperate. Well, not in a way I want her to see.
Just as I'm about to set my phone down, however, a reply arrives.
“Hey yourself, N,” she says. “No time like the present. How about grabbing a drink in town tonight? Just you and me?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ten years ago
Waking up early on Thursday morning, around 5am, I decide the first thing I should do is go straight to bed. I have classes today, but I'd just be a zombie. Better to get some shut-eye and try to salvage the afternoon.
Wincing slightly as I peel myself off the living room floor, I brush my jacket down and take a look around. I have a vague memory that we all went to a club last night, and I'm pretty sure we stayed until closing time. Given that the clubs around here stay open until 2am, that means I've probably only been home for a couple of hours. I actually feel surprisingly perky, although I guess it's possible that I'm still slightly drunk.
There's a black Styrofoam box on the sofa, with the ends of a knife and fork poking out one end, so I guess I grabbed something from the take-away on the way home. No wonder I feel sick.
“That was a night,” a voice says suddenly.
Turning, I see that Elliot is slumped in the armchair. Sitting up, he starts rubbing his tired, reddish eyes.
“Tell me about it,” I reply, surprised by how gravelly my voice sounds. “Was I on cocktails at the end?”
He nods. “We all were.”
“So it was beer, wine, more beer, shots, and then cocktails?”
“For you.” Getting up, he clears his throat. “I stuck to beer. I wasn't really in the mood to party with the rest of you. Sophie got wasted, she was throwing up until about an hour ago, but I couldn't stop thinking about...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“About what?” I ask.
He hesitates, and I can tell that something's on his mind.
“Please, man,” I say with a sigh, “don't get all down about Laura. If the stupid little bitch is out of our lives, that's a good thing.”
I wait for him to reply, but he's still lost in thought.
“Where did you disappear off to, anyway?” I ask.
He turns to me. “I didn't disappear.”
“I couldn't find you for a while,” I tell him. “I needed someone to double-up with me for a game of pool. I even checked the bogs and you weren't in there.”
“I was around,” he replies. “It's not my fault if you were too drunk to spot me.”
“Huh.”
Figuring that he's probably right, I reach into my pockets to find some tobacco. After a quick search, I find that I'm out.
“Did you see where I left my stuff last night?” I ask, looking around the room but not seeing any signs of my tobacco at all. “Damn it, Drunk Nick usually leaves things in order for Sober Nick in the morning. It's not like me to leave myself high and dry like this.”
Without answering, Elliot gets to his feet and heads to the door.
“Where are you going, man?” I ask.
“I want to check the beach,” he replies, his hands trembling slightly as he pulls the door open. “She might have... I just want to see.”
“See what?”
He hesitates, and I can tell that he's really troubled by something. Elliot's always been something of a worrier, but this time it's clearly more than that.
“Stop fussing over her,” I mutter, as I check down the sides of the sofa cushions, hoping against hope to find something I can smoke. “She's a survivor. Bratty little bitches always are. Just let her be and stop worrying about it.” I wait for him to admit that I'm right, but he still seems lost in his own thoughts. “So what do you want to do?” I continue. “Go to the police and report her missing?”
“I'm not saying that. I'm going to check her room, just to make sure she didn't sneak back in, but then I want to take a look at the beach. Do you want to come down with me?”
I open my mouth to tell him that I'd rather walk across hot coals, but then I realize that there's a shop down by the beach. I need tobacco, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone. Besides, a walk near the seafront might clear my head a little.
“Fine,” I mutter, turning and heading to the hallway, and then to the front door, “but I promise you, she's fine. People like Laura always land on their feet.”
***
“So what were you expecting?” I ask half an hour later, as I struggle to roll a cigarette next to the sea wall. “A little tent on the beach?”
Turning my back to Elliot, I try to shield the cigarette, and finally I manage to get it more or less ready. It takes a little longer to light it properly, but eventually I'm able to take a drag. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Elliot is still watching the rough sea as the tide continues to go out.
“She's not here,” I point out.
I wait for a reply, but he seems to be just watching the tide.
“She's not here!” I say again, a little more firmly. “Seriously!”
“I know,” he mutters, and now he looks a little pale. “I just...”
Turning, he looks toward the rocks a little further along the beach, and then he turns to me.
“She's gone,” I continue. “Hopefully, anyway. Stop trying to complicate things, man. The simplest explanation is always the most likely. Laura threw a hissy fit and buggered off. Big deal. I'm sure we'll all survive without
her. Of course, we probably won't be that lucky. She'll probably drift back in eventually.”
“Why do you say it like that?” he asks.
“Why do I say what?”
“That she'll drift in?”
“You know what I mean. She's like a bad penny.”
Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his phone.
“I have this thing set up to record incoming calls,” he tells me. “It's a hangover from when I worked for the student paper.” He fiddles with a few settings, and then finally a recording starts to play.
“What do you want, Laura?” he can be heard asking. “We're all -”
“Help me,” Laura gasps, sounding out of breath. “Help...”
Her voice trails off.
“What was that?” Elliot continues. “I can't hear a word you're saying.”
“Help,” she groans, and to be fair it does sound as if she's in pain. “I'm hurt! I'm on the beach, I fell somewhere near the golf course, I need...”
Again, her voice trails off.
“Give me the phone,” Sophie can be heard saying suddenly. “No-one here wants anything to do with you, Laura!” she says firmly. “Leave us alone!”
“Call an ambulance,” Laura whispers. “Please...”
“It's all an act,” I point out, as the recording continues. “She's a bad little actress, and she was putting on a show.”
“No, she was really here.”
“You don't know that.”
He mutters something under his breath, but I don't quite catch any of the words.
“Oh my God,” a voice says suddenly on the phone. I think it's Victoria, Jonathan's new girlfriend. “We have to check out that new bar tonight. I think they're doing student discounts. Two cocktails for a fiver!”
“We could head down there now!” Sophie replies. “Hey, does everyone wanna go to that new bar? I don't remember what it's called, but it's on Tannery Road.”
“Help,” Laura can just about be heard gasping. “Please...”
