BENEATH THE WATERY MOON a psychological thriller with a stunning twist

by REAVLEY, BETSY

  We extended our menagerie. Maggie and I went with Jude to a farm to choose some more chickens to add to the brood. I had suggested we sold the eggs to local shops to boost our modest household income and the idea received enthusiastic backing. We arrived back at the house with eight bantams and twelve brown hens. It was the cause of much excitement.

  From time to time, I saw my mother and Will. It was easier for me to visit them than to have them come to Christie Hall. They didn’t understand the place or the people. When I returned to the house I had grown up in, I felt lost and longed to return to my new home and my other family. I am sure my mother picked up on it. She did her best not to seem offended. After a few months, she could see that I was no longer a danger to myself. Eventually she relaxed. It must have been difficult for her to let me go.

  Will was bemused by the people I lived with and the lifestyle I had adopted. It made no sense to him but he accepted it as one of the many things in life he would never understand. Will treated everything with the same unquestioning acceptance.

  In December, we planned another Winter solstice celebration. It was suggested that we have a bonfire on the beach. In the week before the party we collected wood from all over the grounds. By the time the day arrived we had a huge pile that stood nearly ten foot tall. It was a particularly harsh winter, the ground was frozen solid every morning. The thought of a bonfire warmed our souls. We decided each of us would burn something of personal significance as a sacrificial gesture of gratitude to the land and the season. My most treasured possession was the book Jude had given me for my poetry.

  On the day of the winter solstice the house was a hive of activity. I remembered the party the year before with such clarity when I had just been a guest. Now I was no longer a stranger, this year it was my party too. Maggie suggested I make the pudding. It was tradition, so I understood, to prepare a large Christmas pudding. I made it some days earlier and the finished product was something I was very proud of. Maggie went out of her way to praise my efforts. She had patiently helped me hone my cookery skills over the course of the year.

  Joanie and Celeste requested a change in the proceedings. They argued that the animals were too precious to be eaten. They said that since they were vegetarian we should alternate veggie and meat eating years. The house voted in favour of this. A huge nut roast was prepared. I was looking forward to the feast, but it was the thought of the bonfire that really excited me. A tower of hot flames seemed so exciting.

  The act of burning my poems seemed appropriate, especially since so many of them were about Jude. I made a promise to myself to put an end to my infatuation with the book’s destruction. It had been almost a year since I had fallen in love with him and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life on unrequited love. I didn’t want my life to read like a Christina Rossetti verse. That’s what I kept telling myself, up until the evening of the beach party.

  Before we commenced with the burning ceremony, Jude took me aside. He knew I planned to offer my journal as a sacrifice. He asked me if he could read some of it before it was reduced to ashes. I knew that practically every word was about him, but I decided let him read it. I must have decided I wanted him to know how I felt. I liked the idea of him understanding it. Without a second thought, I handed the book over. I stood on the black beach hugging myself, watching as his eyes traced the words. As he read, the rest of the world melted away, it was as if he and I were the only people in the universe.

  I watched as the realization sank in. Jude read one of the pages over and over again. Eventually he stopped reading and closed the book. He wouldn’t look at me at first, his big brown eyes stared into the flames of the fire. I watched the reflection of the night sky on the ocean. He’s decided to leave things unsaid, I thought. I was at peace with that. But then he turned to me and put his arm around my shoulder. I realized all of a sudden that I had been holding my breath. I thought my heart might stop beating.

  ‘You know I love you, Belle,’ he said. I remained silent. ‘I love you all, each of you mean the world me.’ Jude thought for a moment. ‘I am flattered. You’re a lovely, attractive woman.’ I knew what was coming. I had known all along. ‘I just don’t see you, the way you see me. I’ve never wanted to get involved with someone from the house. I don’t think it would be right. We have a great balance. People know what to expect from each other, something like this would destabilize everything we have worked so hard to create.’

  His response wasn’t a shock. But as I listened to his feeble excuse I was hit with a burst of rage.

  ‘Yes, no, right, of course, I understand.’ I said angrily. ‘You wouldn’t want to complicate things. Fucking everybody is different. Having a child with Joanie isn’t at all complicated. Really Jude, sometimes this hippy shit is just a joke. People aren’t like that. You can’t just put us all in boxes and expect us to act a certain way, feel a certain way. Just because you decide what suits you, doesn’t bloody mean it fucking suits me. And besides, you think I want to feel like this, you think I planned it?’

  He was taken aback by my outburst. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Then I noticed that we’d attracted the attention of the others. They all stared at me in disbelief.

  ‘Oh come on, you lot think so too!’

  Fran glared at me, with her hands on her hips. I was hit by a wave of embarrassment but remained furious.

  ‘Fine,’ I threw my book into the fire and watched as the flames devoured the pages. ‘You all stay here and enjoy the fucking party. I’m not in the mood.’

  I stormed off. No one said anything and nobody pursued me. Moments later the heavens opened and I was caught in a torrential downpour.

  I found my way to the main road and pointed myself in the direction of home. In seconds I was soaked through. The alcohol I had consumed was in full effect. I began to hum a song to myself as I walked on, the rain falling harder with each step. As I walked, I listened to the night sounds. The occasional car passed, it was nearly midnight and most of the land was asleep. I saw a group of people going into a house on the other side of the road. They lingered outside while one of them fiddled with a key. They laughed and chatted as they went indoors. I stood in the rain and lit a cigarette with difficulty. Then I buried my head in my hands. Loneliness stabbed my heart with the echo of their laughter. I felt like a fool and regretted my reaction. I sloshed along through the cold puddles, the rain never ceasing. Suddenly I realized I’d had too much to drink. It had all been a horrible mistake. I felt utterly dejected as I followed the winding tarmac back towards home.

  PART II

  Chapter 1

  I heard a faint cry. Then the night returned to silence, all except for the patter of raindrops on the concrete. Again I heard a shout break through the quiet. I stopped and stood still; listening for it once more. I tried to work out where it was coming from. I heard it again, and I spun around to see Jude in the distance, walking through the rain, alone.

  ‘Wwwaaaait!’ he yelled.

  I stopped and called back to him. His pace quickened and soon he was standing a few feet in front of me.

  ‘Why’d you leave?’ Jude was slightly out of breath. He was dripping wet and his hands were tucked into his pockets. His ginger hair stuck to his face.

  ‘I just wasn’t really in the mood anymore,’ I shrugged my shoulders, ‘so I thought I’d fuck off home.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He had a knowing look. ‘Well, I’ll come back with you. Let’s go.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, brushing the wet hair that clung to my face away from my eyes.

  I broke his gaze, and we started the walk home. My frozen body was flooded with adrenaline. The rain continued to drench the land but its violence had subsided. We took a shortcut through a field. I am not sure what happened in those minutes, but the next thing I knew, I found myself with my back against an oak tree. He was hard, pressed up against me and kissing my neck. His arms were around my waist. Water streamed down our faces. The bark was as rough as his
touch. I was no longer cold, and don’t remember if the rain was still falling. I gripped the back of his neck with my hand as he kissed me hard. I was absorbing the moment, his mouth was wet and warm on my neck. I raised my head up and opened my eyes, looking up into the black sky through the mass of naked tree branches. My shoes sunk into the slimy mud and I pleaded with him

  ‘Jude, take me home . . .’ I said, half groaning. I bit down on my lip.

  ‘Yes . . . yes.’

  We couldn’t wait. Physical desire had hold of us, and in the darkness we made love against the tree. It was awesomely spontaneous and passionate.

  Afterwards, we found ourselves in childish hysterics. Dusting ourselves down and pulling our trousers up, we decided to go back to the house. The rain had dwindled to a fine shower. We were soaked through and clung to each other for warmth. His arm felt strong across my shoulders as we wandered through the darkness. Soon we found the main road and made our way to the house.

  The place was as black as the night and no one was back yet. It felt odd being home, alone together after such a monumental deed. We didn’t speak. Neither of us knew what to say. I went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, and he disappeared upstairs. I wondered if he’d gone to bed, and decided to leave things as they were. I returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa. The water tasted of chlorine but I needed a drink. I smoked a cigarette and sat back, still damp through to the bone. Drops fell from my hair onto my clothes, sending shivers of cold through me. I was pondering what had just happened when he reappeared, wrapped in a towel.

  ‘That’s better.’ Jude said as he dried his hair. ‘Don’t you want to change?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ My honesty made him chuckle as he sat down next to me. Leaving the towel to hang around his neck like a scarf, he leaned in to kiss me. I reciprocated. Zeal ran around my body in a current.

  ‘Go and change out of those wet clothes or you’ll catch your death.’ He leaned back into the sofa.

  ‘The others will be back soon,’ I said.

  He said nothing, so I took his hand and led him upstairs to his bedroom. I opened the door and told him to sit on the bed. His expression was coy as I peeled off my damp sweater. I stood before him in my bra and trousers. He slipped his hands around my waist and pulled me down. I ran my fingers through his wet hair and kissed him. Soon we were naked under the covers, and in the throes of another breath-taking session.

  * * *

  My head is pumping. Blood trickles down my brow and into my eyes. I cannot see through the red fog. I blink over and over. I need to see. Where am I? I try to move my arms. They are bound behind my back. I can feel cord cutting into my skin, tight around my wrists. My knees are tucked tight up under my chin. The skin on my chin stings. It feels like carpet burn. My ankles are bound too. Everything aches. My head is fuzzy. Am I in a car? There is a smell of petrol. I feel very nauseous. I can feel the rough carpet floor against my cheek. I am being thrown around in the back. Yes, I am I a car. I am in a metal tomb travelling in red darkness. I am panicking. My breathing is strained. I cannot catch my breath. How did I get here? I hear cars moving in tandem with me in my prison. The vehicle breaks and comes to a standstill. We stop but then the car jerks forward again, throwing me against the cold, hard interior of the boot. My jaw aches and the icy taste of iron fills my mouth. Is that blood? My tongue searches my mouth; one of my teeth is missing. There is a raw bloody gap, empty. Where has it gone? I feel sick again. I gag. Vomit erupts out of me. It tastes of blood and alcohol. I am lying in my own sick. The stench seeps into my nose, mixing with the smell of petrol. I am sick again. The gap, where my tooth once was, is so tender. I wriggle about violently trying to free my hands and feet. If I can slip the restraints I might have a chance. I pull as hard as I can. The rope tightens around my wrists. They are aching even more now. I feel the veins in my wrists throb, trying to get the blood to my hands. Panic returns. Stay calm. Think, for fuck’s sake. Think. Listen to the sounds. The traffic seems far away now. I am bobbing about more. Helpless. I am sick again. It is wet and slimy against my body. I try to turn my face away from it but I am trapped. Trapped in misery and pain. Terrified. I notice my whole body is shaking. There is less blood coming from my head. I can feel it clotting, forming a thin layer over my face. I am so cold. Am I dying? I need to wake up. Wake up, I tell myself, wake up . . .

  * * *

  After the act, we lay as quiet as mice, in total darkness except for the cherry glow of the cigarette we were sharing. Minutes later we heard the bang of the front door and the bass from music begins to swell through the house.

  ‘Shit, shit!’ I said. I jumped out of his bed and scrambled for my clothes. We both laughed and hurriedly got dressed.

  ‘Look, we can’t talk about this now, but there are some things I need to say to you,’ I said.

  ‘It’s fine. As far as they know, everything is normal,’ said Jude in a matter of fact tone. ‘So, you can come in with me tonight – no one will think anything of it.’

  ‘But we . . .’

  ‘Stay with me tonight.’ There was hope in his voice.

  I kissed him and nodded, before suggesting he went downstairs and prevented the others from coming up to investigate our whereabouts. He gave me a grin and disappeared out of his room.

  I sat on the huge four poster bed. What next? I kept repeating the question in my head. I knew I didn’t have time for that, so I threw on pyjama bottoms and a sweater that belonged to Jude. The fabric felt like home. I looked in the mirror: my face was flushed and my hair had a mind of its own. I dashed into the bathroom and shoved my face under the shower head where I washed my hair with lightning speed, before returning to my room to blow it dry. Having reapplied some mascara, I felt confident I was back to looking like a human, and I made my way downstairs to join the party.

  I entered the room and caught Jude’s eye. He gave me a subtle wink as I greeted everyone. Then he got up and went into the kitchen, beckoning for me to join him. I followed, like a small child who’d been promised sweets. He rummaged round in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of rum. I didn’t think anything of it. He stood over the two glasses, still in his dressing gown, and I placed my hand on his lower back.

  ‘Stay in my room tonight,’ he said. I rubbed his upper arm and he smiled.

  The living room was vibrant. Everyone talked at the top of their voices. Jude and I stood in the doorway sipping our generous glasses of sweet rum. The liquor sent a warm rush down my throat. Charlie was practically shouting as she told the room an amusing story about an argument she had gotten into with an old boss of hers. Wally sat back in an armchair, smiling to himself, evidently lost in a haze of his own. Sophie chatted animatedly to Maggie, who listened with appropriate interest, while Celeste concentrated on smoking a large joint. The smell of the marijuana reminded me of purple sage growing in my mother’s garden.

  I noticed a light bulb missing from one of the spotlights in the ceiling. It helped to create an intimate atmosphere in which everyone found blissful comfort. Jude spotted a spare arm of the sofa and he balanced himself there, taking up residence next to Fran. Cigarette smoke clouded the air, creating a silver cocoon around us.

  I was drunk again from the rum by this point. A feeling of detachment fell over me, and I watched everyone interact from an intoxicated distance. I fumbled about in my pocket for my phone.

  I left a group in the living room and wandered through to the kitchen. I stood chatting with a man named Johnny. He was very good looking, funny, and by all accounts something of a ladies’ man. Eventually Jude came and found us.

  ‘More booze!’ Johnny cut in, brandishing his empty glass.

  We all burst out laughing.

  ‘I think it’s nearly time for bed.’ Jude said looking directly at me.

  ‘In your dreams, son,’ Johnny said grinning and pouring another large round of drinks.

  Jude was still eyeing me, looking for a reaction. I shrugged
, necked my drink, and left the room. I felt a wave of confusion hit me, like nausea, as I sat down on the large sofa and I thought I might be up swallowed by it. Jude stood in the kitchen doorway watching me. He looked helpless. A minute or two later he disappeared back into the kitchen. Seconds later my phone beeped. I had a text message: ‘My room x.’

  I looked over towards the kitchen where Jude remained, watching me read his message. I smiled at him but said nothing, only replying with a kiss back.

  It was then I began to panic. I felt out of my depth. My mind began to whip itself up into a frenzy. Nothing had been confirmed. Things needed to be cleared up. My stomach was full of drink, and I was beginning to feel sleepy.

  Jude came and put his arm round my waist and I hoped he didn’t think we were going to have sex again. As much as I wanted to relive our escapades, I needed to get some things off my chest first.

  I went into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Jude sat down next to me and kissed me on the cheek.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs.’ He spoke softly and motioned in that direction with his head, grinning, his eyes dilated.

  ‘I’m tired,’ I replied, feigning a yawn. He looked disappointed.

  ‘I need to think about this a bit more,’ I told him honestly. ‘I need to work out what’s happening. I don’t want you breaking my heart, you fucker.’ I poked him in the ribs and tried not to appear vulnerable.

  ‘This is huge for me, too, you know.’ He looked coy.

  ‘Sure.’ I didn’t really understand what he meant. ‘What is this? I mean, what do you want from me?’ I tried not to sound pathetic.