“Nothing,” Chloe says, but she’s too quick, too guarded.
“We were talking about Poppy, if you must know,” Tanya says, to which Chloe nods. “We’re not sure about her.”
They’re lying, but I take the bait. I’m not getting an answer from them right now. “What do you mean, you’re not sure about her?”
“This whole trip.” Tanya shrugs. “I don’t know. The way she acted on the cliff earlier, that push. And then the whole orange juice fiasco this morning. Are we sure she’s not doing these things deliberately?”
“We’ve got to stick together,” Chloe says. “The four of us against only one of her. Even if she is messing with us, she can’t do anything too bad.”
I wonder if Poppy stole the top from my suitcase. But why? What would be the point?
“The four of us against only one of her,” Tanya echoes, as if we’re in some kind of cult.
“I don’t know,” I say. “She did apologise to me when I was coming back here. I think she just doesn’t know how to act around friends.”
“Are we friends with her?” Chloe smirks. “Would any of us have shown up to this if it was a weekend in Brighton?”
“Come on.” I’m irritated by the pair of them and can’t bear to be in just their company a second longer. “Poppy will be wondering where I got to.”
“I’ll be with you in a second,” Chloe says.
Poppy and Esther are lying in the sun when we get back to the beach, clearly not concerned about my whereabouts at all. Two pitchers of margarita, and a couple of plates of fruit, are nestled in the shade. The two of them sit up when Tanya and I come and join them, the harsh glare of the sun hitting the back of my neck and making me wish I’d put more sun cream on.
“Feeling better?” Esther asks, and I nod.
It’s good to lie here in the sun, forgetting about everything. But I can’t shake this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, and I’m not even sure what it’s for. Poppy’s odd behaviour, pushing me on the summit? The missing top? Chloe and Tanya having some kind of secret conference about me? I place a hand on my tummy to try and calm myself, but it doesn’t work.
And then the four of us hear Chloe scream.
Eleven
Chloe
May 19, 2023
My makeup is ruined. Destroyed. Every bottle of foundation, smashed onto the floor and spilled. Even my eyebrow pencils have been snapped. My expensive eyeshadow palette has fallen face-first, each section ruined. Behind the table, the window is wide open, and the curtains twitch in the breeze.
I can’t believe it. I’ve never been so stupid in my life. All of this, hundreds of pounds’ worth, ruined because I put them on the end table near the window, and a strong breeze must have blown them all over.
“Chloe?” Esther comes rushing in.
Even though I know what happened, I can’t help but shriek at her. “Did you do this? Which one of you did this? Everything is ruined!”
“What are you talking about?” She looks past me and sees the mess on the floor. “Oh my God.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do now? This is all I brought with me. All that’s left is some mascara and powder. That’s useless!”
“You can borrow our makeup,” Esther says, bending down and beginning to pick up the pieces. “Or we can salvage some of this.”
“Don’t bother,” I snap, knowing it’s not her fault but past caring. “There’s no point. Might as well just burn some money too, while I’m at it.”
“How could this have happened?”
“Either one of you decided to ruin my life, or it must have been the stupid window!” I point to it, then sink down on the bed, tears streaming down my face. “The wind must have knocked them all off. I’m such an idiot.”
“The wind?” Esther places the smashed pieces back on the table, then studies the window with a frown. “It hasn’t been that windy today, has it?”
Now that she’s mentioned it, it hasn’t. The makeup was definitely still in place this morning, I bloody put a load on. And the weather has been calm all day.
“Maybe the wind gets funneled here somehow,” Esther murmurs, more to herself than me. “It creates a stronger force and that’s what knocked your makeup off.”
“Maybe.” But now I’m doubtful. Would one of the others really smash my makeup?
I’m thinking of Poppy instantly. She didn’t like that bi comment I made yesterday, I know it. She’s too sensitive, as most people are nowadays. And it’s hardly my fault she is what she is.
Esther heads out, then returns a couple of minutes later with a wet sponge and some kitchen towel. “Here,” she says, getting to work cleaning the floor. “Not much we can do now, but I’d shut that window if I were you.”
“Right, thanks.” I close it tight, then sit on the bed again as Esther cleans my floor. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to talk to you anyway,” she says, which makes me nervous. She finishes the floor, then comes and sits on the edge of the bed, face solemn.
“What is it?”
“You’d tell me if there was something going on, wouldn’t you?”
What does she know? I try to keep my face impartial, but I know I’m a shit actress. My heart starts pounding.
“What are you talking about?” I say. Even I can hear the false lightness in my tone.
“With Tanya. I think there’s something wrong.”
Tanya. She’s talking about Tanya. It takes everything in me not to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God.
“I haven’t noticed anything,” I say, lying to her face.
“You two have been talking a lot lately.” She peers at me, and seems on edge herself. Does she know something about Tanya and is wondering whether I do too? Are we both thinking about the same thing? “She hasn’t told you anything?”
“She’s been a bit off recently, but I don’t know if I can talk about that.”
“She’s been going through a lot. And she looks so ill now, like she’s really struggling.” Esther shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Damn.
“I think you do know something,” I venture. “I might know something myself. Related to how ill she is.”
She frowns at that. “Is this about six months ago?”
Six months ago? Is she talking about the party?
She sighs. “Don’t worry.” Is it just me or does she sound relieved?
“We can talk about it if you want,” I say hopefully.
But she’s firm. “No. It’s better unsaid.”
She’s frustratingly vague, but I can tell I’m not going to get anything else out of her. “You seem stressed yourself, you know.”
She looks up, startled. “I’m fine.”
I meant it as a throwaway comment, but the more I think about it the more I realise it’s true. She’s been standoffish and odd, not like the normal Esther at all. Not that she’s particularly friendly to start with, but she’s often the one member of the group who likes to make sure everyone is okay. The secret keeper. It must be annoying her to no end that I know something she doesn’t about Tanya.
But I’m not about to blab. Tanya knows secrets of mine as well, and I can’t have her spilling those in revenge.
“You’d say if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t you?” I pull what I hope is a sympathetic-looking face.
“Of course.” She shrugs, then seems determined to change the topic. “Are you going to tell the others about what happened with your makeup?”
“No point.” It’s not like they had anything to do with it. And even if they did, they’re not going to come right out and say so.
“It could have been Poppy,” Esther whispers, looking around her shoulder at the open doorway to check no one is listening. “She could have come and knocked them over. She was making margaritas for ages.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, even though I had the same thought. I lean in closer, my voice a whisper too. “She is odd, isn’t she?”
“She was talking about what she had planned this afternoon. Sounded very excited, but wouldn’t give us specific details.”
“I think she’s enjoying making us uncomfortable, you know.”
“I agree. God, come on, they’ll all start coming over if we’re here any longer. I said I’d check on you after you screamed so they’re probably wondering if we’ve both been murdered now.”
“There’s no one else on the island,” I point out. “It’d have to be one of them.”
“True.” Esther laughs. “But I wouldn’t put it past them. Let’s go.”
We head out the door, giggling, and collide straight into Poppy, who is standing just outside. She doesn’t look caught out, even though she’s clearly been eavesdropping. Instead, she stands there brazen as anything, arms folded, a smile on her face.
“Jesus, you frightened the life out of me,” I say. “Have you been listening to our conversation?”
“I was just coming along to see if you were alright,” she says. “What was all that screaming about?”
“My makeup was smashed all along the floor,” I tell her, watching for her reaction.
She raises her eyebrows, but there’s no real shock there. “Oh dear, how did that happen?”
“Must have been the wind,” I say. “No one would have done it deliberately.”