‘I mean … are you sure you’re ready?’ he continued. ‘Look what happened last time.’
‘That was down to you.’ Sarah ground her teeth as she broke her vow of silence. David knew how to push her buttons when it came to work. Heading back into the living room, she almost tripped over an empty pizza box. She really should clean this place up.
‘It’s long hours,’ David continued in a patronising tone. ‘You’ll get no thanks for it.’
‘I’m on restricted duties,’ Sarah snapped. ‘I won’t be doing much.’ It was a shitty way to resume her new role. But it did mean regular hours and not taking on more than she could handle until she was cleared. Her husband knew all of this, given his years of experience in the police. Such jobs were fine for the boys, not for the little missus at home. She sighed. Perhaps he was right.
‘The world’s a dangerous place,’ he continued, determined to drive his point home.
‘You think I don’t know that?’ Exasperated, Sarah threw her hands in the air. ‘I know what the world is, and I know whatyouare. You made this happen and now I’m paying the price. So, do me a favour and keep your bloody opinions to yourself.’
It was true. She’d lost the respect of her colleagues before she’d even begun. Marching down the hall, she walked into her bedroom and slammed the door. This was the one space in the house where David left her alone. Their marriage had long since broken down, but he still popped in on occasion to tell her what to do. Despite her best efforts, she let him. What was wrong with her?
The bed bounced as she sat, making a rusty ew-aw noise. Its springs were the old-fashioned sort, which groaned loudly when she turned in the night. Buying a new bed was also on her checklist of things to do. She slid open the top drawer of her bedside table and fetched a deep sigh. Picking up her ID card, she rubbed her thumb against the picture that had been taken when she was a recruit. She was the oldest person in her intake, and right now, she felt like the least confident. David was simply vocalising what had been in her head all along.
She pulled open the second drawer, her gaze falling on the glorious stash of tablets within. Enough to send a horse to meet his maker. Each small white tablet a promise she could hold in her hand. A promise that could make everything go away. Because if she couldn’t make things work on the outside world, there was no point in going on.
2
Libby kicked a stone as she walked down the old dirt track. If their parents could see them now; a group of Catholic schoolgirls sneaking out to the most out of bounds building in Upper Slayton. The invite had been exclusive. Only a few people from her school were ‘chosen’ to attend as they broke up for half-term. She turned over the stiff black card which had been placed in a small envelope and shoved inside her schoolbag. It read:
You are cordially invited to play
The Midnight Game
Blackhall Manor
31st October 2019
00.00
On the back of the card in a tiny font were the words ‘If you tell, you’ll go to hell’. Nobody had admitted to it yet, but they all guessed that Angelica was responsible. She was the most theatrical in the group, and this year she had upped her game. It certainly wasn’t twins Bethany and Isobel, who lacked the imagination and flair. Then there was Jahmelia, the youngest among them. She was even more frightened than Libby. The waxing crescent moon was a thumbnail in the sky as they crept down the jagged path.
‘So, which of you losers hasn’t had their first kiss yet?’ Angelica said, Tesco bag in one hand, cigarette in the other. Angelica was the first person in their group to smoke. She was also the first to French kiss. At fifteen, she was a year older than the others, because she’d had to repeat a school year. She had lots of older friends, which made it all the more surprising that she was spending Halloween with Libby and the gang.
‘It’s Jahmelia for sure,’ Bethany said, matching Angelica’s mocking tones. Libby rolled her eyes. Bethany was the biggest suck-up in the group. Her parents were what Libby’s would call ‘social climbers’, and they brown-nosed Angelica’s mum and dad every chance they got. But Angelica’s parents were bigots according to Libby’s parents.
Libby was meant to be sleeping in a tent down at the bottom of Jahmelia’s garden tonight. That was as scary as things were meant to get.
‘I like kissing my baby brother,’ Jahmelia said in a quiet voice, small plumes of white breath filling the freezing air around her. ‘He has soft cheeks, and he smells nice.’
Jahmelia was the youngest in the group, at barely thirteen years of age. Her intelligence had propelled her forward in class, but she had little in the way of street smarts.
‘“I like kissing my baby brother,”’ Angelica imitated Jahmelia’s voice in a high-pitched squeak. ‘That statement is wrong onsomany levels.’
‘Leave her alone.’ Libby linked Jahmelia’s arm. ‘If the security guy hears us, we’ll be in deep shit.’
Angelica shot her a thunderbolt of a look. ‘He’s not due for hours.’
It had been Angelica’s job to work out the security rota, and he came twice a night, checking the perimeter under torchlight before moving on. The house was far from the gate so he wouldn’t be able to see them once they were inside. Bethany and Isobel were tasked with bringing the props and it was Libby’s job to find a way in. There was no way they could get through the thick black brambles, and the iron gate was padlocked. But she had found a place near the back of the outhouses where a barbed wire fence had fallen down.
Under the light of her phone torch, Libby led them to the gap in the fence.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ she said, her feet numb as they sank into the cold, wet earth.
‘Go home then, if you’re scared.’ Gripping her carrier bag, Angelica ducked under the wire. ‘I’ll do it by myself.’ Libby believed that she would. Angelica had an underlying current of darkness. She wasn’t just foolhardy, she was angry at life. As if to prove the point, she slipped a baggy from the pocket of her jeans and dangled it before them. ‘For later.’
That was the point where Libby should have gone home. But instead, she held up the wire to allow everyone through. ‘Whatever happens …’ She became breathless as they trudged towards the house. ‘Stick to the cover story, alright?’
