“Well?” Dad said. “Is Tanya coming?”
“No.” Mum put the phone back in its place and sat down. “Apparently there’s been some kind of mix-up. She can’t make it today after all. But Jane told me to tell you she wishes you a happy birthday, and there’s a card in the post for you. Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
I don’t know what Jane said, but later, when I checked Facebook, I saw the truth for myself.
Having the greatest time today with my best friends!
Tanya had posted a photograph, tagging Annabel, Chloe, and Esther, of the four of them hanging out together at the park eating ice creams. They were all beaming at the camera, arms round each other, the sun shining behind them.
It was such a simple day out. Nothing special. Just ice creams in the park. And Tanya couldn’t even give that up for me on my birthday, after everything.
I got under the covers and cried. I didn’t think it would be fine in the end. I just cried and cried and never wanted to face the world ever again.
Sorry about the smudges. I didn’t mean to cry writing this. I thought writing things out was meant to be good for you? That’s a total lie, then.
Still. At least I can pretend you’re my friend, diary. It reminds me of Anne Frank’s diary, her dedicated and much more sophisticated writings to “Kitty.” I don’t think I want to name you though.
That will just make me feel even more alone.
Ten
Annabel
May 19, 2023
I can’t believe she’d push me like that, right near the edge of the cliff.
The atmosphere is awkward on the way back down the mountain, but Poppy seems determined to pretend there isn’t a problem. I don’t care if there was no way I’d fall—she was tempting fate, making me scared. All the way down she kept chatting in this loud, obnoxious way, as if she had no idea I was still upset, and now we’re out on the beach, it’s as if the whole morning has been forgotten about.
“It’s the perfect time to sunbathe, don’t you think?” Poppy says, as we gather by the sun loungers. “I’ll make us some margaritas, and we can just relax here for an hour or so before lunch.”
I plaster a smile on my face, knowing it must look forced. “That sounds great.” I’m not going to be the one who ruins the hen party. I’ll just suck it up and chalk it down to her warped sense of humour. “I’m going to go and have a shower. I’m all sweaty from the climb.”
“I’ll walk back with you,” Poppy says. “I need to come make the drinks anyway.”
Great. We leave the others to flop down on the sun loungers (Chloe repositioning hers out from under the shade of palm trees onto the open sand) and head back towards the main lodge. It’s much warmer than this morning. I’ll be grateful to get in the shower. My face feels slimy and my hair is beginning to stick to my temples.
At first, I think we’re just going to walk along in silence, which would be preferable, but Poppy reaches out and grabs my arm, giving it a squeeze.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
“Fine. Like I said, I’m just feeling a bit sweaty.” I try to shake her hand off my arm, but her grip is firm.
“You’re still upset about that push, aren’t you?” She runs her free hand through her hair, then releases me. “I was messing around. I’m sorry.”
Walking side by side like this, I can’t catch her eye to see if she’s being genuine. But she sounds sincere enough, so I weaken. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being silly about it. How were you meant to know I’d take it so seriously?”
“I should have realised. We can’t joke around like we used to. It’s been ten years, after all.”
My breathing becomes shallow. It’s not the first time she’s brought up the past, even though she keeps insisting she wants to move on from it.
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s been a long time. We’re getting to know each other again.”
We reach the decking, and she stops, ready to head inside the main lodge and make the cocktails. No one seems bothered that it’s barely midday, but I suppose it is meant to be a hen party.
“Don’t take too long, Annabel,” she calls as I walk away. “I don’t want you to miss out on a single thing.”
In response I wave my hand at her. I’m grateful for the shade the lodge brings as I head round the back towards my hut. Part of me wants to turn round and ask Poppy for my phone to look through, just to see if Andrew has sent me any messages, but something tells me she wouldn’t be so receptive about that.
Reaching the little porch of my hut, I realise the front door is open. Barely noticeable, the tiniest of cracks, but open all the same.
I definitely closed it when I went out this morning.
Didn’t I?
I try the door, opening it wide and then shutting it, just in case it doesn’t close properly. But it closes with a distinct snap, a noise I’m sure is familiar from earlier. There’s nothing out of the ordinary when I head inside, no sign that anyone else has been in here. It looks just as I left it, hair products and makeup strewn about on the chest of drawers, and my clothes piled up in my open suitcase, waiting to be unpacked properly. The painting still looms over the room, reminding me I have to ask Poppy if she painted it after all.
The shower splutters as I switch it on, none of the power from this morning. A slow trickle is all that comes out, occasionally coughing out large splashes. It also doesn’t get any hotter than lukewarm at best.
“For God’s sake,” I mutter. I know we’re on an island in the middle of the Caribbean but you’d think five-star luxury would lend you some basic facilities. Perhaps the supply works on a timed basis, giving more in the mornings. How am I meant to know? I deal with it as best I can, the water painstakingly making its way down my body, and end up coming out feeling cold in this tropical heat.
It’s taken so long I’m surprised Poppy hasn’t come searching for me. But this time to myself has been desperately needed. It’s odd to go from spending so much time by myself at home to being surrounded by four women every second of the day. I miss Andrew as well, even though he’s hardly ever home.
There’s an awful dark blue sequined top Andrew bought me last Christmas that I packed with me. Don’t ask me why I brought it. I’ve worn the thing once at Christmas drinks that very evening, it’s not my style at all. I guess it reminds me of him. Maybe I’ll put it on just to feel a bit closer to home.
I put back on the white shorts I was wearing earlier, and swap out my boots for some matching sandals, then rummage around for the top. I know it’s in here somewhere, but I end up taking out all my clothes and putting them away in the drawers to find it. Eventually I reach the bottom of my suitcase, and I’m left with some tights and an old nightie.
The top isn’t in here.
I check again, going back through the clothes I’ve already put away, and even look around the room and under the bed in case it’s magically ended up there. But there’s nothing, not even a forgotten sock from a previous guest. The room is spotless, and my suitcase is empty.
My mind goes back to the open door when I first arrived. Did someone come in? But why would someone—and it would have to be one of those four—come in and take nothing but a blue sparkly top that’s quite frankly hideous? They’d have to have gone digging through all my clothes to pull it out. There’s just no sense to it.
Surely Esther wouldn’t do something as petty as this, no matter what argument we had earlier. It’s not her style to be childish. She’s much more upfront about things when they bother her. Hence why we had the disagreement in the first place.
No, I had to have not packed it after all. Even though I remember putting it out on my bed at home, ready to bring with me. Maybe it fell out at some point before I zipped up the case. It’s probably lying on the bedroom floor, Andrew walking past it every morning and evening and not realising he has the ability to bend down and pick it up.
Still though. I frown, and pick out a different top.
I’m heading past the main lodge again when I see Chloe and Tanya on the lawn, standing together clutching towels.
I thought they were all sunbathing? Their heads are close, expressions serious.
They’re so distracted I manage to catch the tail end of their conversation, freezing when I hear my name.
“Annabel doesn’t know still, so if you would stop making it obvious—”
“You have to tell her.”
“Think about what I could tell her about you, why don’t you?”
“That’s not fair.” Tanya turns at this, and catches me. Her face flushes. “Annabel!”
Chloe barks out a high-pitched laugh, but she’s fooling no one. A muscle twitches in her jaw and she can’t quite meet my eye. “What are you lurking about for?”
Their expressions are filled with worry. They don’t know what I’ve heard. They don’t know how long I’ve been standing there.
“What are you two talking about?” I ask, as if I’m none the wiser. “You didn’t even notice me coming up behind you.”