Of course. I’d almost forgotten. It’s unsettling to think of Tanya’s body, lying there on her bed. It’s even less of a comfort to think of Poppy’s, vanished in the sea, currently whirring around due to the storm, perhaps sunken now far below the surface, so far it lies unaffected and decomposing.
My throat swallows of its own accord, preventing me from being sick.
“Well, two more then,” I say with forced brightness. “She’ll be fine.”
“What if she isn’t in there? Do we keep looking?”
As if on cue, thunder roars above our heads and something crashes down outside.
“We can’t go out around the island in this,” I say. “If she’s not in the huts, there isn’t much we can do right now.”
Annabel looks downcast, but nods. “Yeah. I understand.”
“Shall we carry on?” I rise.
None of us packed for a storm like this, expecting sunny beaches and blue skies all the way. Annabel and I are both in thin white dresses which offer no protection, and yet we’re not freezing to death. Adrenaline pumps through our bodies, keeping us warm and alive. The air is pungent, like the smell of perfume, a sweet smell that contrasts with our sour breath as we gasp for oxygen.
Chloe isn’t in either of the remaining huts.
We have ended up in mine at the culmination of our search, and all I can think about is how good a sleep would be right about now. I’m starting to go dizzy with exhaustion.
“She could be in Tanya’s, despite everything,” I say. “That could have been the one she had to seek shelter in. Or maybe she’s back at the main lodge already.”
“Maybe.” Annabel squeezes her hair, creating a puddle of water on the floor.
The power is still out, the storm is still raging.
There’s nothing more we can do.
“We should try to sleep,” I say. “I’ll stay in this hut, you stay in yours. I’ll watch from the doorway and make sure you get in there safely.”
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
The question is like a slap, but I hold steady. “With good reason.”
“I’m sorry about the necklace,” she says.
“I just think we’d sleep better if we were apart,” I say. “And we’ll wake up in a few hours and Chloe will be back, you’ll see.”
“Right.” She sighs and lifts herself off the bed. “I am tired.”
“Me too.”
“You’ll watch me go to my hut? Make sure I get there safe?”
“Of course.”
She heads out slowly, even more cautiously than when we were walking together. It’s a short journey, not even twenty metres, but she takes her time, making sure not to stumble. I keep my own torch steady for her as she wobbles with her own, and after a painstaking few minutes she makes it to her hut and opens the door.
She’s about to head in, then turns on the doorway, mouthing something to me.
“I can’t hear you,” I shout. “What?”
Her lips move again, but the wind swallows her voice whole.
When I make a shrugging gesture with my hands, she shakes her head. Finally, she goes inside, closing the door behind her.
It’s a relief to close my own door, despite the increased isolation it brings. I turn the lock, a sense of respite at the sound of the click that tells me I can breathe normally again. Without taking off my dress I lie down on the bed, pulling the covers over me.
The emotions of the day at last hit me, spiking me in the heart, and I allow myself to cry.
Who am I crying for? Myself, mainly. Stuck here on this island without a way to escape, thinking about how two of the people who came here less than four days ago are now dead. Thinking about how I’ve lost my job, my entire livelihood, and now others know about Brad’s abuse. I don’t know what I’m going back to when I go home, if I even make it.
I try and calm myself down with slow, purposeful breaths. But the effort is futile. Sobs break out of my mouth, choked cries that soak my pillow with something other than rain. I stink of the island, of the storm. A mixture of rain, earth, and sweat. We must be in the eye of it right now, because the wind has suddenly died, leaving silence in its wake. It’s still pitch black, but it’s comforting to be able to hear nothing other than the ringing in my ears.
I can’t sleep. I lie here fatigued beyond measure, more drained than I have ever been, and yet my brain remains switched on. My senses are alert. My body seems to know that danger is lurking around the corner, and won’t let me relax. Perhaps I should thank it, for keeping me focused.
There’s a flash of something outside my window. A torch? It disappears, and then appears again.
Definitely a torch.
Is it Chloe?
I hurry to the window with my own torch, ready to show her a way forward. My face falls when I see who it is.
Annabel.
What is she doing out again? Is she taking advantage of the lull in the storm?
Her torch flashes over my window and I have to duck my head. After it passes by, I watch her go. She’s walking around the huts again, checking various places. Is this an innocent search for Chloe, or something more sinister? She seems in a world of her own, but every now and then her eyes dart left and right, checking no one is following her.
I’m not taking any chances. I move to my door, careful not to shine my torch so she notices me, and feel around for the handle.
There.
Still locked.
She can’t come in here.
It makes me feel somewhat safer, but upon returning to bed, I’m still faced with the same problem. I can’t sleep. I don’t think anything is going to make me at ease on this night, not with Annabel wandering around in the dark and Chloe missing. Not when last night five people were on this island and now there are three.
Twenty-Seven
Poppy
May 17, 2013
Dear Diary,
I went to prom! I went to a PARTY! I drank and danced and boys actually FLIRTED with me! ME!
This year so far has been the best in my entire life. First Slade, and now this. Are things finally turning out okay for me? After everything? Even Annabel, Chloe, Esther, and Tanya were nice. I went to Esther’s house!
The prom started at seven o’clock. We all went through the rites of passage, even me: going dress shopping with your mum and having your mouth ache as she takes picture after picture of you smiling and insisting you look beautiful in all of them; getting your hair and makeup done in the hours before and then having to sit stiffly and avoid eating or drinking; and for others it means meeting up somewhere for your dramatic transport to the venue, in our case the Marriott Hotel on College Green. I missed out on that last stage, getting into a stretch limousine with other girls or even something more ostentatious like an old-fashioned double-decker bus. But Mum and Dad treated me to a proper London black cab, with Dad as my taxi driver, and when we pulled up outside it felt like it was a conscious decision rather than one made out of loneliness. Mum and Wendy were sitting in the back with me, and for once I didn’t care that they were there embarrassing me in front of everyone, making sure I looked perfect and taking more pictures.
“You look so stunning,” Dad said, after opening the car door for me and pretending to bow and doff his cap. “Have a wonderful evening.”
The three of them were going to some science conference for the weekend with Wendy, now that she was seriously thinking about pursuing a career in medicine.
“I will,” I said. “Thank you for everything! This has been amazing.”
“And you look so lovely,” Mum said, near tears. “We’re so proud of you, darling.”
As self-conscious as I felt, I was proud of my dress. With high heels to match so I didn’t feel so dumpy, it was a long, straight dress with floating sleeves. It sounded plain, but diamantes had been stuck along the hem and up to the waist and they sparkled against the grey colouring. As for my hair, it had been tied into a complicated bun with strands framing my face. The hairdresser had said I looked chic, and I liked that word. Catching myself in the car window, I swivelled myself this way and that, watching the bottom of my dress twirl and my hair stay in place. I’d never worn makeup to this extent before either, and although the sudden amount of foundation was a bit shocking (and I secretly worried there was too much of an orange tinge), I definitely looked grown up. And so different.
But no red lipstick. It was a pale pink shade, but even so it made my heart thud when the makeup artist put it on.
Mr. Edwards, who still made me sigh wistfully, broke into a smile at the sight of me heading up the stairs to the front door.
“Oh, Poppy,” he said. “Don’t you look lovely! I’m so glad you came.”
He knew better than most that I was doubting coming here. I’d even had a meeting with him a few weeks ago about it, where he convinced me that I had to attend this last school event, and he’d watch out for me.
“Thanks, Mr. Edwards,” I said. “I’m glad I’m here too!”