Which means I’m going to have to look out for myself and myself alone, no matter how much Tanya wants to side with me. Sorry, babes. I’m all about number one. And if we’re not going to be covering this murder up, I need to make sure I’m not the one who ends up going down for it. My life has already been fucked up enough by Poppy’s little video, even if I’m sure it’ll all blow over by the time I get back. (Honestly, people are so sensitive these days, it’s so pathetic.) I’m not having me tied to this as well, no way.
Claiming a bad headache, I leave Tanya and Annabel at the dining table, pretending I’m going to bed.
Not true.
I’m going on a little scavenger hunt of my own. Time to see what you’ve all been up to, ladies, and hopefully I’ll find something that will mean I can walk away from this free and easy. I head into Annabel’s hut first.
The place looks a mess, which is so unlike Annabel. Clothes litter the floor, the drawers all open. It’s odd, as if someone before me has come in here looking around for something. Annabel went to have a shower earlier—was she searching for something then? Or was she making sure something was well hidden? I check the various open drawers, but other than some underwear and socks, there doesn’t seem to be much of interest. I’m still baffled by the expensive quality of her clothes. Every single item has a high-class designer label, far too many for a housewife, no matter how much she pretends Andrew gives her a large allowance. It bothers me, but it’s nothing to do with Poppy, so I continue. I go so far as to run my hands underneath the pillows on the bed—nothing.
As I’m about to leave, something in me tells me to check the bathroom as well. A towel lies discarded on the floor, and the air in here is hot. My foot steps on something under the towel.
The broken mirror from the scavenger hunt.
What’s that doing in here?
Worse. The remaining shards of glass have vanished. Were those used to stab Poppy?
I drop the mirror and cover it back up with the towel, then hurry out.
It’s not enough. I haven’t found anything conclusive. Maybe Annabel just stood on it like I did and put the glass shards in a bin somewhere. I’m being ridiculous.
When I get to Esther’s hut, I knock first, just in case she’s come back from her run.
“Esther?” I call, opening the door. But she’s not there, and the room is in a much more pristine condition than Annabel’s. Even her clothes for the day, put out before we found out anything about Poppy, are folded on the bed, waiting to be worn. The windows are open, reminding me of my smashed makeup.
As I search, I start to doubt myself. What am I even doing? Looking for what—the murder weapon? Poppy’s body, hidden under the bed? And what if I do find it? What then?
Esther’s bottom drawer opens to the lipstick from the scavenger hunt, cap missing and most of it crushed, pieces of red staining the bottom.
What the hell is going on?
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Esther’s voice startles me, and I practically topple over from how I’ve bent down. Straightening myself upright again, I’m met with her accusing glare.
“I should ask you the same question,” I declare, jutting my chin outwards to show her I’m not afraid. “Why is that lipstick from the scavenger hunt in your drawer? What are you playing at?”
“You sneak into my room and you’re the one asking me questions?” She strides forward, and for a second I think she’s coming for me, so I hold my hands up in defence.
Her face falls. “Christ, Chloe. You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” She sits down on the bed and kicks her trainers off. “Is that why you’re in here? You think I killed Poppy?”
“No! I don’t know.” I take out the lipstick and throw it on the bed. It looks sordid, a disgusting reminder of how we tricked Poppy into thinking Julian liked her. It looks even worse on the bed like this, open and ruined. “Why was this in your drawer?”
Esther looks pained. She takes out her ponytail and lets her hair swing loose, scratching at her scalp. “It’s going to sound worse if I tell you the truth.”
“What does that mean?” Now I’m even more nervous. Are my teeth chattering? I clamp down on my jaw to prevent Esther from noticing.
“I woke up with the word ‘bitch’ written on my stomach in this lipstick. And the lipstick was on the floor next to me.”
The shock of this makes my mouth fall open again. “How? Why?”
“I don’t know.” But as she says this, her face clears. “Oh my God. Yes, I do. Last night, when we were wasted, we got all the scavenger hunt items out on the table. Started messing around with them.”
Something about this sparks my own memory. I was doing something with the Capri-Sun, pretending to squirt it all over Tanya. Did Annabel have the mirror, then? Is that why it ended up in her bathroom? Did Tanya have the party hat? I have a vague flash of her putting it on me and snapping it against my chin. Is that where the scratches came from? And then Esther—we were mucking about with the lipstick, putting it on, pouting our lips. Did one of us write on Esther?
I wonder what happened to that grotesque canvas, the symbol of the worst thing we did.
“I think I remember too,” I say cautiously. “But why didn’t you just tell us this morning?”
“I thought it was just a drunken mistake. Some kind of stupid game. And then things became complicated.”
Of course. My nerves start to ease. I am jumping to conclusions.
Her gaze narrows. “What about you?”
“What?”
“You sneaking into my room like this.” She makes a tutting sound with her tongue. “I’m disappointed, Chloe. I can’t believe you doubted me.”
“It’s not you.” Suddenly, I’m eager for her approval. Steadfast, dependable Esther. She’ll help me. Annabel despises me, and Tanya is too unreliable. No one’s going to believe a drug-addicted loser when it comes to police questioning. I have to pick my allies better. “I’ve looked in Annabel’s too. I’m looking in Tanya’s next. Come with me.”
“I thought you and Tanya were buddies,” she says.
Shit. Does she know what Tanya and I said?
I laugh, but it comes out sounding forced, even to me. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”
“Do you think this is real?” she asks, avoiding my comment.
“What do you mean?”
“All of this. The blood, Poppy going missing.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I keep convincing myself Poppy is going to come out at any second and tell us it was all a game, but that’s beginning to feel less and less likely.”
“There’s too much blood,” I say.
And we all wanted to kill her. We all had a reason.
She sighs. “Let me change into my clothes. I’ll meet you in Tanya’s hut.”
She avoided my comment about us all being friends, but I can’t challenge her on it. I hurry out of the hut and back up towards Tanya’s, again knocking before entering.
The curtains have been drawn in here, so I turn on the light, but the bulb merely sparks, then dies. Sighing, I open the curtains and get the fright of my life.
On Tanya’s window, which faces thick trees and isn’t a route any of us would go down, is a splatter of blood.
I open it in an instant, leaning my head out as far as possible to see the ground below.
But there’s nothing else. No body, which was my first thought, heart pounding, but no more blood either.
Hands trembling, I search Tanya’s room. I can’t find anything.
I’m about to leave when the door opens and Esther walks in.
“Jesus, Chloe, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is it?”
“There’s blood on Tanya’s window.”
“What?” Esther’s voice comes out half strangled. She hurries to where I’m pointing, then staggers backwards, hands on her head. “Oh my God.”
“What do we do now?” Is it bad there’s a thrill of excitement rushing through me? That I might just have stumbled on something after all?
“Sit down.” Esther thinks I’m trembling with fear. “You’re going to faint.”
I crash onto the bed, enjoying playing the part of a frightened damsel, but something feels off about the landing.
There’s something underneath the mattress. The weight is distributed wrong—what should be a flat surface tips upwards at this end, and even though I’m sitting on the corner, I’m still higher up than the rest of the bed. Esther notices too.
“Shit.” I rise to my feet again, and we both shift the mattress off the bed to the springs underneath.
There’s a bundle of sheets, wrapped in a ball.
I think back to the conversation Tanya and I had an hour ago at most, walking back from the beach together whilst Esther and Annabel hurried ahead, no doubt deep in their own.
“You and me, we owe each other,” Tanya had said, her voice low and somewhat threatening. “You need to appreciate that.”
“We’re innocent,” I’d replied. “So you have nothing to worry about anyway. Right?”
“Right,” she agreed, linking arms with me. “But we’re closer than Esther and Annabel, aren’t we? We’ll back each other up, especially when the police arrive tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
“Think how suspicious we’re going to look. It’s best we get our facts straight about last night as soon as possible. So shall we say we saw each other go to bed? But we don’t know about the others?”
“You’re on.”
Oh Tanya, Tanya. Nice try.
Esther and I unfold the sheet in silence. We both avoid looking at one another, but I can hear her panting breath, a sign of nerves or excitement, I’m not sure.