Laura

by Amy Cross

  “Nick's got a job as a careers adviser,” I tell him. “Can you believe that?”

  He smiles, although this immediately causes him to retch slightly.

  “Do you think Laura's okay?” I ask.

  A hint of fear immediately reaches his eyes.

  “It's been a while since we heard from her,” I point out. “I mean, shouldn't she have at least shown up to get her stuff?”

  “I'm sure she's fine,” he replies.

  “But what if -”

  “She's fine!” he says firmly. “Laura can look after herself. Let's just not talk about it, okay? Wherever she is, I'm sure she's bugging a whole new bunch of people. Lucky them.”

  “I just feel like we were really mean to her at the end,” I continue. “I was mean to her. I don't want to be her friend anymore, but I want to apologize. To her face. I want things to end on good terms.”

  “She wouldn't care,” he replies. “She probably barely even remembers any of us. People like Laura are just opportunists. They use people and then they move on, and they don't even look back.”

  “But that phone call sounded so bad. And the second -”

  “There was no second call!” he says, interrupting me.

  “I was going to say, the second she said she was in trouble, we should have gone to make sure she was okay.” I wait for him to reply, but he seems shifty and a little uncomfortable, almost as if he's hiding something. “Elliot? Is there something I should know?”

  “What? No. You know everything.”

  “Are you sure? You seem jumpy, almost -”

  “I'm going to bed,” he continues, getting to his feet. “If you want my advice, Sophie, you'll forget Laura ever existed. That's what the rest of us are doing. I doubt we'll ever hear from her again.” He heads toward the door, before stopping and glancing back at me. “We've got our whole lives ahead of us,” he adds. “Let's not waste time worrying about things from the past that we can't change. Laura Mears is gone, and frankly I'll be happy if I never even hear her name again.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Today

  “Damn it!” I hiss as I rest my injured right foot on the bed. “I never knew a twisted ankle could hurt so much!”

  “I'll go and get some ice,” Elliot replies.

  “I don't need ice.”

  “It'll help with the swelling.”

  “There's no swelling!”

  “It still -”

  “Just don't fuss, okay?” I tell him, raising my voice a little. Adjusting my position on the bed, I feel another jolt of pain in my ankle, but I refuse to let it show. The last thing I want is for Elliot to play nurse. “I don't need your help. I'll be fine in the morning.”

  I wait for him to reply, but instead he's simply watching me. I used to be comfortable in these silences with him, but now I'm starting to find him very irritating.

  “I'll sleep in the chair,” he says finally. “You can take the bed.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  Still hiding the pain from my ankle, I lean back against the pillows. I know we have to go back to those caves in the morning, once the tide has gone back out, and we need to find a better way to explore. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing which tunnel to check first, and I know that Elliot's right to be cautious. This journey is starting to feel like a wild goose chase. Then again, if we had no chance of finding Laura's body, why would she have wanted us to come back here? Does she just want us to head into the darkness and die?

  “Do you think bad people can redeem themselves?” Elliot asks suddenly.

  I look over at him.

  “Maybe not bad people, exactly,” he continues, with a hint of fear in his voice, “but... What if a good person does a bad thing? Just one thing, just once. What if a group of good people do a bad thing, and then years later they try to make amends? Do you think they can? Or will that bad thing always be there, like a mark against their soul? Can a good life be destroyed by one quick, brief mistake?”

  “Are you talking about the night we ignored Laura's cry for help?” I ask.

  “No, I'm talking about...” He hesitates. “Yeah. Sure. I'm talking about the phone call she made.”

  “We should have helped her,” I tell him.

  He sits on the edge of the bed. “I know.”

  “No matter how much awful stuff she did,” I continue, “we should have at least made sure she was safe. I mean, that's basic human decency, isn't it? We were her friends.”

  He nods.

  “So all the bad stuff that's happened lately...” My voice trails off for a moment. “We deserve this.”

  “You don't deserve it, Sophie.”

  “I was just as bad as the rest of you.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I was!” I continue. “I'm not getting let off the hook here! You, me, Victoria, Lynn, Nick, Jonathan... We all ignored that call she made. We all went our partying instead. We share the blame equally. Now the others are dead, and we're the only two left.” Suddenly those words hit home, and I realize the awful truth. “They're all dead,” I whisper. “All of them. All our friends. How the hell did we get to this point?”

  “And do you think that's what Laura wants? For us to put it right?”

  “How can we put anything right?” I ask. “She's dead.”

  “But maybe if we admitted what we did?”

  “We should absolutely do that,” I tell him. “It might not help anyone, but it's the right thing to do.” I pause for a moment. “We did something terrible, Elliot.”

  “You shouldn't blame yourself.”

  “We all have to blame ourselves!”

  “But at least you weren't -”

  He stops suddenly, staring at me.

  “I did exactly the same thing as the rest of you,” I point out. “I ignored her call, just like you and the others. Tell me one thing I did that was different.”

  For a moment, he seems poised to give me an answer, but then finally he shakes his head.

  “Is there something you're not telling me?” I ask.

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know. That's the point. Elliot, is there something I should know?”

  I wait for him to reply, but then I hear a faint tapping sound at the window. Turning, I see that rain has begun to fall.

  “We should get some sleep,” Elliot says, getting to his feet and grabbing one of the pillows from the bed. He sounds almost relieved. “I'll be in the chair. Let's hope your ankle is better in the morning, and then we can think about a new plan. One thing's certain. What we're doing right now is never going to help. We're flailing here.”

  I watch as he settles himself in the chair.

  “You can sleep on the bed if you want,” I tell him. “You know, as friends.”

  “I'm fine here.”

  “But -”

  “Light on or off?”

  I hesitate. “Off, I guess.”

  He leans over and switches off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in darkness as rain falls harder and harder against the window. I want to ask him if he thinks we can ever make things right, but I guess now isn't the right time. Instead, despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, I settle back and close my eyes, hoping against hope that I'll be able to get some sleep. All I can think about, of course, is Laura, and about how cold and terrified she must have been when she died. Maybe she just wants us to face the truth. Maybe she just wants us to know the full horror of what happened to her.

  It's my fault. I can't blame the others. We each made our own decision to ignore her phone call that night. I should have gone to help her.

  ***

  Opening my eyes in the dark hotel room, I realize that I somehow managed to nod off for a few minutes. There's a real storm raging outside now, and I turn to see raindrops battering the window. There's a loud rustling sound in the distance as high winds batter the trees, and for a moment I stay completely still and listen to the raging maelstrom. It's almost as if the weather is tr
ying to break through the walls and get to us.

  Maybe the storm came for Elliot. And for me.

  Turning, I look over at the chair and see that Elliot seems to be asleep. I watch his silhouette for a moment, in case there's any sign that he might be awake, but even the storm doesn't seem to be disturbing him. Apparently he can still sleep through anything.

  “Elliot?” I whisper.

  No reply.

  “Elliot!”

  I wait.

  Nothing.

  Realizing that I need to use the bathroom, I look down at the foot of the bed, and I can just about see my feet in the darkness. My ankle is still painful, although the intensity of the throb isn't quite as bad as before. Still, even a short hobble to the bathroom is likely to be agonizing, but I'm damn well not going to cry out or wake Elliot, so I take a deep breath before carefully swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

  Wincing as I feel a slicing pain just above my right heel, I nevertheless haul myself up and start limping through the darkness, fumbling to support myself against the wall as I try to find the bathroom door.

  “You were so close,” a familiar voice says suddenly.

  Freezing, I don't dare turn around. Instead, I tell myself that I must be imagining things, that the voice just slipped out from the trailing end of a nightmare. After a moment, however, I turn and see to my horror that there's a dark figure standing right behind Elliot, silhouetted against the storm-lashed window.

  “You were no more than ten, maybe fifteen feet from what you were looking for in that cave,” Laura's voice continues. “If you hadn't slipped, if you'd just gone a little further, you'd have found me.”

  “Elliot?” I whisper, hoping against hope that he'll wake up. “Elliot!”

  “That's mean,” she replies, with a dark hand resting on his shoulder. “Can't you let the poor man sleep?”

  “What do you want?” I ask, as I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

  “What do you think I want?”

  “Just tell me how to make it up to you,” I stammer, staring at her dark face. “Whatever you want, tell me and I'll do it!”

  “I'm dead. There's not really a lot that would be useful anymore.”

  “We're going to get your body,” I tell her. “We're going to go back to the cave and find it, and then we'll make sure it gets a proper burial. It won't be left out in the open anymore, it won't be left to rot. We'll get it put into a proper grave in a cemetery, and we'll make sure there's a service and a headstone.”

  I wait for her to reply, but after a moment I hear a faint chuckle.

  “We'll get a good coffin,” I continue desperately, “and there'll be a priest, and you'll be in hallowed ground. That's what's important, isn't it? Then maybe your soul can be at peace, and you won't have to haunt anyone anymore, and you can rest!”

  Again I wait, and again she seems to be laughing.

  “What do you want?” I ask. “Just tell me!”

  “Oh Sophie,” she says finally, “you crack me up, really. A proper funeral? A proper grave? A priest and all that crap?” She pauses, before stepping around Elliot and taking a couple of steps toward me, until I can just about see one side of her face in the rain-spattered light from the window. “Do you seriously think,” she continues, “that I give a shit where I'm buried?”

  “Then what do you want?” I ask, stepping back against the wall.

  “I want my friends back.”

  “We should have come looking for you,” I tell her, as tears run down my face. “I know that, I see it now. After you called we should -”

  “I don't care about a phone call,” she adds, interrupting me. “For God's sake, Sophie, how petty do you think I am? I can handle being ignored over the phone. This was never about that! This was about what my so-called friends did to me!”

  “Laura -”

  “I use the term loosely, of course,” she adds. “Friends are supposed to look after each other, aren't they? Look how easily you all turned on each other as soon as I applied a little pressure. You know it was Victoria who ruined your life, don't you? She blamed you for the nasty messages she was getting. Those were actually from her husband, since he was living with a ghost and he was slowly losing his mind. Of course, I gave Victoria some ammunition. She didn't realize it was me who left the USB drive in the apartment for her to find, with all Tommy's sick, altered photos, but then she did all the rest. She was very good at revenge, wasn't she?”

  “Victoria wouldn't do that to me,” I stammer. “She was my friend, we'd been friends for years!”

  “Just like you and Elliot have been friends for yours,” she continues. “And how well do you know him, Sophie?”

  “I just -”

  “He has his phone with him,” she adds.

  “What?”

  “He has his phone,” she says again. “You can find him that way.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, before realizing that I need his help. Taking care not to get too close to Laura's ghost, I edge around the side of the room, making my way closer to Elliot. “Wake up!” I hiss. “Elliot, I -”

  Suddenly I see that his mouth is wide open, and his eyes have been gouged out. Blood has run down from the empty sockets, covering his face, and his hands are gripping the arms of the chair.

  “Like I said,” Victoria continues, “he has his phone with him. That's how you're going to find him, when you realize that he's not here anymore.”

  “No!” I shout, clambering onto the bed and crawling toward him. “Elliot, wake up! Elliot, you -”

  Suddenly I open my eyes and sit up, gasping for breath on the bed. Looking around, I realize that there's no sign of Laura, and then I see that the chair is empty too.

  “Elliot?” I stammer, climbing off the bed and double-checking the chair, before hurrying to the bathroom. Despite the pain in my ankle, I push the door open and step inside, but there's still no sign of him. “Elliot, where are you?”

  Rushing back into the bedroom, I switch on the light and look around, but his shoes and jacket are gone. I keep telling myself that the conversation with Laura must have been part of a dream, that she was never really here, and then I see that Elliot's phone is no longer on the table next to the TV. Grabbing my phone, I try to call him, but I don't hear his ringtone. He doesn't answer, so I send an SMS asking him where he's gone. When he doesn't reply to that, either, I realize that he must have headed out. Checking the time, I see that it's 4:55am.

  “The tide,” I whisper, suddenly remembering that the tide is due to go out just before 5am, which means it'll be possible to go back into the caves.

  Grabbing my coat, I limp out of the room and along the corridor, and then I head downstairs. A couple of minutes later, I rush through the front door and out into the rain-lashed car-park, and then I start limping toward the beach as the storm howls all around me in the night air. I swear, the wind is so strong, it's almost as if the storm is trying to push me back and keep me from going to the beach. Ahead in the darkness, I can already hear waves crashing against the shore.

  Elliot's hiding something. My instincts were right. There has to be something he hasn't told me.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Ten years ago

  “So this is it, then.”

  “I guess so.”

  “But we'll keep in touch, right? All of us.”

  “Of course. I mean, we'll all be in London, right?”

  Smiling, with tears in her eyes, Victoria pauses for a moment before leaning closer and giving me a big hug.

  “Stay safe,” she continues, holding me tight before finally taking a step back. “Jonathan and I are going to invite you over to dinner real soon, okay?”

  “We have to move into the new place first,” Jonathan adds.

  “It's alright for some,” Nick mutters as he rolls a fresh cigarette, while sitting on the sofa on the far side of the front room. “You've got your cushy job at the architect's office, or whatever the hell that pla
ce is called. You'll be swimming in money before the year's out.”

  “Come here, you,” I say, heading over and leaning down to give him a hug. He stinks of tobacco and stale booze, and I can't help worrying that he's going to end up with a problem. For now, though, all I know for certain is that I'll miss him. “See you in London, dude.”

  “Yeah, sure. You'll all forget about me soon enough.”

  “Whatever, Eeyore.”

  Turning to Lynn, I see that she's crying too.

  “What time's your train?” I ask.

  “Not until five. I wish I was getting the same one as you. You know how I feel about trains.”

  “I've met people who are scared of flying,” I tell her, “but never someone who's scared of taking a train.”

  She shrugs. “I dunno. I've just always been freaked out by them.”

  We briefly hug, and then I turn to the one person I still haven't said goodbye to yet. Elliot is standing near the door, looking deeply uncomfortable as usual.

  “Damn it,” I say, smiling through the tears, “I wish I wasn't the first one to leave. It'll be easier for the rest of you.”

  “We've still got some things to do here,” Jonathan tells me.

  Picking up my backpack, I hear to the door. I wait for Elliot to say something, but I guess he's going to simply stay polite and friendly. There's so much unsaid between us, so much that could have happened, and I suppose now he and I will always be nothing more than a missed opportunity. If we didn't manage to get together during out three years at uni, I don't see how it can ever happen now. We'll just be friends.

  “See you around,” he says with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

  “See you around.”

  I pause, before reaching toward him and giving him a very awkward hug. I half expect him to whisper something into my ear, but instead he simply takes a step back as if he's ready for me to leave.

  “So what are you guys going to do once I've gone?” I ask, turning to the others. “Big party?”

  “As if,” Lynn replies, wiping away more tears. “I've got a load more packing to do.”

  After a few more farewells, I finally head out the door. The others all wave me off, and I turn and look back several times as I start walking along the street, making my way toward the train station. Wiping away tears, I tell myself that I'll see them all again, that this doesn't have to be the end of anything, but at the same time I know that we were very lucky to have this time together. Maybe we'll barely see each other again.