BENEATH THE WATERY MOON a psychological thriller with a stunning twist

by REAVLEY, BETSY

  It didn’t take long to get some pot and a bottle of cheap rum. Numerous men had been trying to force drugs onto us from the moment we set foot out of our hotel resort. We were both aware it was risky. The concept of winding up in a Thai jail wasn’t tempting, but we were fairly sure that if we went back to the hut with our stash and remained discreet, we’d be fine. We had tobacco and rolling papers back at the hotel, so after we had securely stored the weed in the pouch of my handbag, we made our way back to our room.

  We wandered out onto the porch with icy rum cocktails and a joint. I brought out three candles from our room and lined them up outside. We sat at the table sipping our drinks and sharing the joint. In a place like that it was a fastidious thing to do. The thick blue smoke poured from the lit end and trailed up into the night. I took a long hit and held my breath, counting to ten in my head, before slowly releasing the remnants from my lungs. It hit me almost immediately. Jude followed suit, spluttering at the end, which set me off in a fit of childish laughter. Soon we were both giggling uncontrollably. We took it in turns, laughing so hard that at times we had to stop to catch our breath. I suggested we take photographs of ourselves smoking and holding our drinks up, with the backdrop of the moonlit beach. Jude stumbled out of his seat and went in search of the camera. I sat, feeling light headed and happy, enjoying my intoxication and the blurred world. He came back and sat very close next to me and held the camera out. A click and a bright flash later, we were laughing hysterically again.

  We absorbed the rest of the night as if we were sponges. The night closed in around us, above the roar of the magnetic waves as the last of the candles began to die. The bottle of rum had been speedily diminished, on a par with our self-control. His hands had begun to wander and I felt his eyes on me as I stared out into the blank space, searching for answers to questions that I hadn’t yet asked. I reached for the bottle and refreshed our drinks, while he kissed my shoulders.

  It was the most distant I had ever felt from him. Something was there in my mind but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was the type of feeling you get when you think you might have forgotten to do something like turn the oven off. I didn’t like the way it was trying to take over my every sense. I did my best to disregard the bizarre feeling and turn my concentration back to Jude. He was high and drunk. I realized that I was also under the influence of an unusual high. I reached for my cigarettes, certain that if I smoked one I would be able to evade the panic that was trying to get a grip of me.

  Jude tugged at the towel I had draped around me. I didn’t really feel like sex but I kissed him back anyway. Throwing myself into the moment, I let my towel drop onto the sandy wooden floor and straddled him on the chair. With my legs wrapped around his waist, he picked me up and carried me through into our bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us with his foot.

  After the act I felt better, as we lay on the bed sharing a cigarette and staring up at the ceiling. I laughed and so did Jude. We had behaved like animals and the dirty pleasure felt good but for some reason my crotch ached. We hadn’t been that rough and I wondered what was wrong.

  ‘I love you.’ I planted kisses all over his face and pushed away the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  ‘I know you do.’

  He didn’t need to say it. I knew he loved me too. Just after midnight I fell asleep in his arms, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

  * * *

  I can feel his presence in the room. He is lurking in the shadows, moving from one to another, circling me like a shark. I try not to look in his direction. I am frozen in fear, gripped by a sudden cold sweat. My heart aches and the lump in my throat is growing. I hold my breath and fear my lungs will explode. I can’t bear the sound of my own breath. I am trying to hear him, to get a sense of his breathing. Why won’t he show himself? Is he really a monster? Could my mind handle seeing its face? I realize I am still holding my breath and have to gasp for air. I cough and splutter and it hurts me. I am willing myself to be somewhere else. I picture another reality and try to feel something new, something good. I still hear him, though. His rough skin stinks up the room, and I am suffocating once more. He is breathing through his nose. Nasal breaths rattle like snakes. I am trying to be brave. He is not a shark, there are no snakes. I feel my eyes begin to shake in my skull. I am having some sort of fit. I need to snap out of it. This is not happening. This is not happening.

  Chapter 6

  It was late in the afternoon, and through the window I could see the sky turning a vibrant shade of purple. Thick clouds collected in the distance and were making their way towards the island. A storm was brewing. We’d had a lazy day. We lay in bed for a while, watching television. Then made a plan to eat at one of the restaurants in the town and go to the beachfront for a night of drinking and dancing. There was only so much of the news channel that we could handle, before getting out of bed and filling the huge bath. We slipped into the warm, bubbling water and lay there soaking for a while, listening to the stereo. Steam had filled the room by the time we finally stepped out and began to get ready. I stood in front of the mirror and applied make-up, while Jude dried his hair next to me. By the time we’d left our room, the sun had begun to set. The sky was thick with dark, looming rain clouds and in the distance thunder boomed. An uneasy feeling returned, and I felt like I was being pulled from one reality into another.

  We walked through the complex and into the centre of the town. We wandered the sandy streets, looking in shop windows and passing people who sat eating in restaurants. Taking a sharp left turn, we trekked up a small winding street until we reached a restaurant we had spotted the day before. The balcony was adorned with glowing lanterns and gentle music drifted out. We went in, finding a number of very low tables. The air was close, and it felt like the sky was about to open up. Jude chose a table near the window. There were no chairs. Having taken off our shoes, we sat on large cushions on the floor.

  The hostess appeared and handed us menus. We ordered a jug of water and a beer each, before inspecting the list of dishes. I wasn’t very familiar with authentic Thai cuisine and couldn’t wait to try it. We giggled at the questionable English the menu was written in, before we decided on green curry and jasmine rice. Modest plates of piping hot food were soon delivered to our table. They smelled fantastic and were quickly devoured. It took real restraint to stop ourselves from licking the warm plates clean.

  Jude paid the bill and we left just as the sky turned black and it began to spit. Despite the oncoming downpour, the air was still humid and close. The two of us made a hasty dash towards the main street to find a suitable bar to settle down in for a few hours. By the time we reached cover, hard rain was falling. I smelled electricity in the air, lightning was imminent. We got to the bar just as there was a loud crash in the sky. Tourists stood by the windows, watching in awe at nature unleashed. Jude and I quickly ordered drinks and found an empty table where we watched the storm take a grip of the island. Streaks of brilliant blue flashed across the bay. Each time lightning struck, the boom from the clashing clouds highlighted the bass from speakers in the far corner. In between the thrashes of the lightning, I thought I could hear someone breathing heavily. I looked around the room for confirmation that what I was hearing was real, but found nothing. Only a strange green light permeated the room, emanating from bulbs set high in the ceiling.

  The storm stopped as quickly as it erupted. Jude and I watched as the transvestite prostitutes reappeared on the streets, beckoning to passing tourists who were also harassed by young children, forcing strings of flowers around their necks then demanding payment.

  We drank for a few hours before we ventured down to the beach. One of the barmen told us that each night fires were lit on the sand and rugs were laid out around them. The pair of us wobbled along the slippery street until we reached the shore. There were burrowed pits in the sand all along the beach, each contained small burning fires. Faded rugs were strewn out around them. It was busy and more tourist
s continued to arrive. Jude and I managed to find a patch on the ground near one of the fires that wasn’t crammed with people. There was another youngish couple on the other side of the fire, snuggled up together. A light breeze blew in over the now becalmed waves.

  Jude told me to stay put while he went over to one of the many busy beach bars to get us a drink. Neon lights made patterns on the sand. The couple opposite, seeing that I’d been left alone, looked slightly awkward, and the woman decided to strike up a conversation with me.

  ‘Hi. I’m Sheila and this is Lee,’ she said in a coarse Essex accent.

  ‘Ah, English!’ I exclaimed, extending a hand. ‘I’m Annabel.’

  ‘Bloody lovely ‘ere, ain’t it?’ said her partner, taking a gulp of his beer.

  They were both sunburnt and dressed in white. Lee had a thick gold chain around his neck and a pair of sunglasses resting on his head. He looked like a dodgy builder. Sheila had a vast bosom that was bursting out of her spaghetti strapped top and a tire of fat around her waist. Her round face was friendly as she leaned over, flashing me her cleavage, offering me a cigarette out of her packet. I gratefully accepted.

  ‘Is this your first visit to the island?’ I asked them.

  ‘Third time for us, love,’ Sheila told me, lighting her cigarette. ‘Three years in a row, now. Had our honeymoon here, see,’ she said beaming at her husband.

  ‘Oh right, lovely.’

  They were so typically British.

  ‘Why go to Spain when you got a place as nice as this? Not that much dearer, neither.’ Lee fixed me with his large eyes.

  ‘Exactly,’ I agreed, ‘This is my first time, but I’m sure I’ll be back if I can help it.’

  Jude returned, balancing the drinks. He was unsteady on his feet due to the soft sand and the effect of cocktails we’d already drunk. He sat down and leaned on an elbow, stretching a brown leg out behind me. Placing a hand on his knee, I introduced him to our companions.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, making a beeline for my cigarette and taking a long hard pull before handing it back to me.

  There was a good twelve feet between them and us, so we soon fell back into our own private conversations. I leaned my head back onto Jude’s chest and we chatted about the stars that were now beginning to appear in the sky. Lee stared at me in a way that made me self-conscious. I could feel his eyes on my body and I didn’t like it. Thankfully Jude didn’t notice the unwelcome attention I was receiving.

  We lay there on the woven rugs by the glowing fire, which spat every now and then, sending a mass of tiny red sparks into the air around us, floating up like minute spirits released.

  A hawker approached, selling beaded jewellery. I wasn’t bowled over by his wares, but I found myself buying a cheap wooden bracelet just so he would leave us alone. I handed the trinket to Jude who thanked me and slipped it on. The trader moved over to the other couple, but was promptly told to ‘fuck off’ by Lee, who suggested we didn’t encourage the man further.

  ‘Take you for everyfing you got, if they can, these bastards,’ he said. ‘Tell ‘em to fuck off, like I do. It’s all cheap junk and they know they’re pushing their luck. Pray on young ‘uns like you.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice,’ Jude said with a subtle hint of contempt.

  ‘No problem, son,’ Lee replied, looking smug.

  Jude leaned in close to me and whispered, ‘Fucking prick.’

  I could tell that the alcohol was talking, but I got up and left to get us another drink, anyway. There was a string of buzzing bars and I headed straight for the least busy one. When I went back to the fire, I lay down next to Jude and sipped my cold drink. We both stared in silence into the flickering flames. The Essex couple got up and excused themselves, explaining that they would leave the partying to us. We bid them goodnight, and they disappeared off into the darkness.

  ‘What a prick,’ Jude said, this time with greater disgust.

  ‘Oh come on, they weren’t that bad.’

  ‘Belle, the man was a total prick. How dare he come to this country and speak to the locals like that. It’s disgusting.’ He frowned, and I noticed how deep the lines around his brow were.

  ‘I know, you’re right. People just don’t think.’ I was trying to calm him down.

  He took a sip of his beer and spat it into the fire in a jet from his pursed lips. The fire roared and fizzled. All I could do was laugh as he sat back looking pleased with himself.

  ‘Silly sod,’ I said.

  ‘Oi!’ He slipped a hand around my neck and pulled my mouth down to his. I could taste the beer on his warm breath. The rest of the night was lost to drunken excess. Eventually, we found our way back to the hut and both passed out on the bed fully clothed.

  * * *

  I am trying to work it out. Trying to understand how I got here, how it all started. The pain and the blood are stopping me from seeing it clearly. I am aching and numb at the same time. Agony has cast a shadow over my ability to think clearly. Then I think I hear him again, moving around nearby, dragging his heavy feet. Show yourself to me, let me see your twisted, horrendous face. Evil lives and breathes. Let me see what my nightmares are made of. The darkness is ready to come alive. I feel it pulsing with all that is nasty and wrong in the world. It wants to own me, to know my secrets, to make me part of it. My anguish gives it fuel it needs. I am going to burn in its fire, in his fire. My skin is so cold but the blood in my veins feels like boiling over. It swishes around my body and I think it’s going too fast, travelling through me like a train, not stopping. I can’t get off this ride and I cannot see an end. I didn’t ask for this. Please, someone help me. Why am I here? The shackles are pinching my wrists, and his hands suddenly tighten around my throat. Where did he come from? The darkness came alive, and he was born. I choke. White spots dance in front of my eyes. His hands are hot and brutal against my skin. My mouth is open, trying to say something, to beg for my life, and my tongue stabs the air looking for hope. He releases his grip, and the life flows back into my head. My cheeks feel flushed and warm. I can sense him grinning. I keep my eyes closed and wish myself away from that place. His hands are on my breasts, stroking them. Pinching and squeezing my nipples. I yelp and moan as they work their way back up around my neck, and again his grip begins to tighten. I try to prepare myself for it again but it is impossible. I wasn’t ready for life and I am not ready for death. He knows this and it gives him his power. He feeds off every hopeless thought I have and grows stronger.

  Chapter 7

  It was Christmas Eve on the island. The island wasn’t huge and could have been explored in a matter of days, but we opted to spend most of our waking hours alone in our cabin, or lying together on the abandoned stretch of beach. We were a young married couple in the making. Fuck Cinderella, or any other fairy tales, this was it: the stuff soppy, romantic stories were built of. That was why I doubted it was real. It couldn’t be true. It had to be some kind of false reality: a dream world.

  I watched Jude look for a T-shirt. He pulled the brown and cream striped cotton over his head and then reached for a cigarette. I knew he could feel my eyes burning into him as he brought the lighter up to his lips. Then he broke the silence.

  ‘Breakfast will be here soon,’ he said. I could see there was something else bubbling below the surface, and he was refusing to share it with me.

  ‘Great.’ I hid my frustration. He smiled reassuringly, before turning the television on and pretending to be interested by whatever drivel it was spouting. I knew there was something on his mind but bit my tongue. Women talk too much, and men never say enough. Jude and I were usually no different.

  A while later, there was a timid knock on the door. Jude jumped out of his seat and sprinted to the door.

  ‘Yes . . .’ he said, opening the door. A shy-looking bellboy stood holding a tray.

  ‘Please put it down over there.’ Jude pointed to the table on the porch.

  I pulled my hair back into a bun before lea
ving the cool, air-conditioned space to join him on the veranda. Jude sat at his usual breakfast place, but his face had a different look from normal. He presented the tray to me with a proud flourish. On it was a small vase with red orchids in it, and a bottle of champagne stood next to two delicate flutes. The assorted fruits had been arranged into a heart, and the pancakes had been cut out to match. I was speechless, which was a rare occurrence, since, like most of the women in my family, I had the tendency to talk a lot.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Well . . . I . . . yes,’ I stammered. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

  ‘It’s Christmas, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is, kind of.’

  ‘Champagne, my lady?’ He cocked a glass and let the sparkling bubbles fill it.

  The whole holiday had gradually become more like a fantasy. His dark brown eyes sparkled like they must have done when he was a boy.

  We tucked into the food. The fruit somehow tasted sweeter than it had before. But then I choked on some pips, I hastened to catch my breath, and as sweat stung my forehead, my eyes searched Jude’s face for help. He remained motionless, looking out over the ocean. I was still choking, desperate for breath. I thought I was going to die. Eventually the tightness in my throat released, and I could breathe again. Strangely Jude didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘I’ve got a special day organized for us. It’s a surprise but we are on a bit of a timetable so get yourself organized for a day out,’ he said as he piled our plates onto the tray in a half-hearted attempt to clean up. His urgency encouraged me to get a move on. I wondered why he seemed so flustered but I was touched by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. Excitement rippled through the silent room as we threw our belongings into a large khaki bag. I had no idea where we were going or what he had planned, but the anticipation was exhilarating and I was overcome by the eternal battle my mind faced. Inside, my body was awash with nerves.