The Wild Girls Read online

  ‘No,’ Hannah says again, more clearly this time, more confidently. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing her. It’s just a shame she’s not well tonight.’

  Another pause.

  ‘I wonder what happened between her and Nathaniel,’ Alice says. She looks down at her plate. ‘I can’t imagine going through a big break-up now, at this age. It would be hard, I think. There’s so much pressure, isn’t there? Although sometimes, with Tom…’ She trails off, leaves the sentence unfinished. When they were teenagers they’d spend forever dissecting the text messages from whichever boy was in favour that month, analysing whether a single kiss meant more than a double, stalking the boys in their year on Facebook, giggling helplessly all the while. But things are different now. That closeness is no longer appropriate. And besides, Tom isn’t some teenager.

  ‘With Tom?’ Hannah says, prompting her, but Alice shakes her head. The candles in front of them have begun to burn down low; Alice reaches out, begins picking at the molten wax, soft and yielding beneath her fingers. She feels as though the two of them are edging towards truths, skating around secrets like dancers on thin ice. Alice doesn’t want to get too close – not yet.

  ‘Where’s Grace got to?’ she says, tutting, and Hannah shrugs. She pulls out her phone, and begins fiddling with it, looking anxious.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Alice asks her, concerned, and Hannah sighs, lays the phone on the table. Alice glances at the screen, see the words no service in the corner.

  ‘I’m worried about Chris.’

  ‘Worried? Why?’

  ‘He – no, it’s stupid, honestly. It doesn’t matter.’

  Alice places her hand on hers; Hannah feels clammy, hot.

  ‘You can tell me anything, Han. You know that, don’t you?’

  She nods, squeezing Alice’s fingers. ‘I know – thank you. It really is good to see you, Allie.’

  Allie – she hasn’t called her that in years. Tom calls her Allie, sometimes, when he’s bored of using babe, but it’s never sounded quite right coming from his mouth, somehow. It’s always what Hannah used to say.

  ‘It’s good to see you too,’ Alice says slowly. ‘So why are you worried about Chris?’

  But she’s shaking her head, the moment clearly gone. Alice feels a flash of disappointment, but squashes it down. It’s unkind of her to want to see the cracks in Hannah’s relationship, to want to hold a mirror up to Hannah and Chris and peer into the darkness. Not everybody’s relationship has sharp edges. She should want her friends to be happy. Sometimes looking in a mirror simply shows you what you already know.

  ‘Do you remember the last time we were all together?’ Hannah says instead of answering, more quietly now. ‘Do you think Grace does?’

  Alice snorts into her wine glass.

  ‘Grace was drunk, though granted not as drunk as you.’ She pauses. ‘And I thought you didn’t want to talk about last time.’

  Hannah nods. ‘I know, but…’

  There is a sudden, loud crash from the next room, and a high-pitched squeal. Both of them leap to their feet.

  ‘Grace?’ Hannah shouts, and throwing Alice a worried look, she races from the room, leaving Alice hurrying after her.

  ‘Grace?’ Alice calls, the word coming out slightly slurred. She must’ve drunk more than she’d thought. You always drink more than you think, Tom’s voice says, in her head, funny that, Allie.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK.’ Grace is standing in front of them, in a smaller, colder room that houses two large fridges and a freezer. On the floor at her feet is a smashed bottle of champagne; shards of dark green glass have flown everywhere, and the liquid is forming a golden puddle on the dark wooden floor. The expression on her face is frozen; a bit of an overreaction, Alice thinks.

  ‘My hand slipped,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry. Do you think Felicity will mind?’

  Hannah pats her on the arm. ‘Well, not if we don’t tell her,’ she says. ‘Now, there must be a dustpan and brush somewhere in this place. Alice, do you want to fetch another bottle out of the fridge?’

  Alice obliges, stepping neatly over the mess, careful not to let her sandalled feet come into contact with any of the sharp pieces of glass. Trust Grace to make a mess in this beautiful place – she always was a bit clumsy. Alice remembers when they were back at school, they’d both got waitressing jobs in the pub down the road, the one by the river, and Grace ended up losing her job because she broke so many plates. They gave the job to a new boy instead, and Alice remembers being quite pleased because she’d fancied him – until she’d found out he’d already snogged Hannah, that is. Even now, the rejection stings – it’s funny how old wounds last for so long.

  You never know when they might resurface.

  As Alice makes her way back to the dining table, clutching the icy bottle of champagne, she realises why that room was so much colder than the rest. She pictures it, the white curtain flapping slightly in the breeze from outside. Yes, she’s almost sure that when she went into the room, the window was wide open. As if someone, or something, had just been inside.

  Chapter Nine

  Hannah

  Poor Grace, she looked as though she’d seen a ghost when they’d walked in to find her with the smashed champagne bottle. Hannah clears it up as best she can, and they head back to finish their meal, even though truth be told Hannah has drunk enough and is starting to feel really tired. But Alice seems determined to polish off the lot – until, that is, Felicity’s second text comes through.

  Hannah leaps for her phone, thinking it’s Chris, hoping for some sort of explanation about the double wine glasses – perhaps he’ll text her goodnight and mention the fact that a colleague popped in earlier. But the girls’ phones go off too:

  Sleep well, ladies! I’ve booked a treat for you in the morning, to say sorry for not seeing you tonight. That’s right… We’re all going on safari! The Land Rovers will pick us up at 7 a.m. sharp, from out the front of the lodges. Just my little way of thanking you for coming all this way to celebrate with me. I’ll see you by the gates in the morning, then, and when we get back – it’s party time! Hope you’ve got your outfits ready… remember, it’s dress to impress! Night night. Flick X

  The message is followed by a string of heart emojis; a rainbow of colours. Grace gives a little squeal of excitement, her weird reaction to champagne-gate gone, and looks up at the two of them, like a child who’s just been told they’re off to Disneyland. Hannah feels excited too – she was hoping they’d get the opportunity to see the animals, and this gives her the perfect excuse to turn in early – she can’t handle drinking any more if they’re starting at seven.

  ‘Seven a.m. start!’ groans Alice, but Hannah tells her that actually, seven is practically a lie-in when you’ve got a breastfeeding baby. It comes out more snappily than she intended, and she smiles at Alice afterwards, to show she doesn’t mean it, but Alice doesn’t meet her eye.

  ‘God, what d’you think we’ll see?’ Grace says, sounding a tiny bit nervous now, and Hannah remembers what she’d read in the guidebook on the plane.

  ‘Well, the plains out here definitely have elephants, over by the river bend, and there are supposed to be gazelle and antelopes, that sort of thing. Jackals, maybe? I hope we see giraffes, too. And we ought to see lions and cheetahs. You’re meant to try to spot the big five, I think, at least that’s what the guidebook said. So’ – Hannah ticks them off on her fingers – ‘the lion, the leopard, the elephant, the rhino and… shit, what’s the last one?’

  ‘The buffalo,’ Alice supplies, and Hannah feels a flicker of satisfaction. She must’ve been looking over her shoulder at the guidebook a bit after all.

  ‘In that case,’ she says, ‘I think we ought to get some sleep, don’t you? I can’t be dealing with the buffalos with a raging hangover!’

  Alice laughs, tips the rest of her drink down her throat and rolls her eyes at Hannah.

  ‘Spoken like a true mother.’

  The word
s sting, but Hannah’s too tired to mind. The wine has hit her all at once and suddenly, all she wants to do is sink down into the gorgeous white bed in her lodge and pass out – put aside all thoughts of wine glasses and empty lodges and the odd expression on Grace’s face when she walked in on her in the next room.

  ‘Do you think we need to clear all this up?’ Grace asks, and Hannah frowns.

  Alice jumps in. ‘Nah, I don’t think so. If the staff put it all out, surely they’ll clear it up. Besides, we don’t know where any of it goes.’

  Hannah feels a bit bad leaving it all in such a mess, but her eyelids are beginning to droop and she can’t face stacking up all these plates tonight. Anyway, Alice must be right – clearly, Felicity is paying for a catering service as part of the deal and so they may as well make use of it.

  It’s as they’re walking back out to the lodges that Hannah notices there isn’t another lodge nearby, not that she can see, anyway, though the darkness feels even more intense now, as though if one of them turned too quickly, they’d be swallowed up into it.

  ‘I don’t understand where the staff actually are,’ she says to the others, but Alice just shrugs and Grace is too busy glancing anxiously at the swirling dark water beneath the walkways to be paying proper attention to what Hannah is saying. Her eyes skate over the muddy banks, the dank, slippery sides. Hannah leaves them both at the corner of the walkway, and makes her way back to Gazelle Lodge, excited at the prospect of washing the make-up off her face, drinking a tall glass of water and sinking into the sheets. She shouldn’t have drunk so much – it’s way more than she’s used to. She’ll try phoning Chris again before she goes to sleep; the alcohol has softened her, and suddenly she longs to hear his voice, imagines him tucked up in their bed at home, his arms flung above his head like they always are when he goes to sleep. She hopes he’s kissed Maxy goodnight, that he’ll hear their son if he starts to cry.

  As Hannah turns the handle of her lodge, she catches sight of something tucked inside the doorframe, a flash of white against the wood. Frowning, she reaches for it, thinking that perhaps it’s a note from one of the cleaners, like you might get in a hotel.

  She wiggles it out carefully, opens the door to read it in the light of her room. The words make her sober up immediately, and shock pounds through her, fast and unpleasant. I know what you did.

  Chapter Ten

  Grace

  I wake up at 6 a.m., heart pounding in my chest, mouth dry. For a second, I can’t remember where I am, and a splash of fear hits me before I remember that of course – I’m in the lodge, I’m on holiday with the girls. Relieved, I lean back against the fluffy white pillows, reach for the cloudy glass of water on my bedside table. Thank God I had the foresight to put it there last night. My mouth feels as dry as the sands outside. As I grab the water, my hand connects with something else and I see the wooden Queen beside my bed; the chess piece, surveying the room from the bedside table. Nausea swirls in my stomach; the sour taste of champagne furs my tongue. How much did we drink?

  With a thud, it comes back to me – eating the fruit and meats until my stomach was full and my hands were sticky with juice and fat, the fizz of the champagne and the clean, brutal smash as the bottle hit the floor, the chess game and the fortune teller with the strange, cryptic words inside. I’d opened out the paper, but each of the other flaps were blank. Whoever wrote it knew I would be the one to find it, knew I’d choose ‘lion’. But how? And what does it mean – the birthday party isn’t the only reason you’re here? We’re here to see Felicity, to celebrate with her. There’s no other reason, as far as I’m concerned. At least, not for anyone else.

  I try to think – it could’ve been one of the unseen staff, I suppose, or it could have been Felicity herself. Or – I feel a shiver run down my spine even though the room is warm – it could have been Hannah or Alice. We all went our separate ways for almost an hour – one of them could easily have snuck back into the main lodge and put the fortune teller in its place. We loved them when we were younger, after all.

  Or maybe – the thought hits me with a rush of relief – maybe that note is nothing to do with us at all! Maybe it’s been left here by another family, or another group of friends – this place must be rented out to wealthy tourists all the time, I expect it’s often used for birthday parties. It’s not like Felicity owns it, is it? We’re probably the fourth or fifth group to arrive this year, for all I know – lots of people might have celebrated here; the whole place is perfect for big events. One of the families might’ve had kids, and it’s just someone playing a prank on a sibling. Yes. Of course. That room didn’t look like anyone had been in there for a while, what with all those dusty books, so it makes perfect sense. I almost laugh to myself – how ridiculous I’d been last night, worrying about it so much. I’d been so jumpy that I’d dropped the champagne, caused all that mess. The other two probably thought I’d just drunk too much – I saw the disapproving looks on their faces when they came into the room.

  Buoyed by this explanation, I hop out of bed, luxuriating in the feel of my toes in the soft rug beneath. I glance at my watch – there’s time for a quick shower, though I wish I could get a coffee. It’s always been part of my morning ritual, wherever I am – the soft, dark smell of the granules, that first bitter taste like oxygen to a tired brain, followed by the fizz of artificial energy working its way through my veins. I scan the room quickly, and see a fold-down panel in the wardrobe that I hadn’t spotted before. Perhaps there’s a machine in there?

  I pull it open and crow with delight when I see it – a gleaming Lavazza machine complete with coffee pods and a bone china cup. The milk comes in powdered sachets, but I can live with that, and as I plug the machine in and wait for the water to heat up I pull open a few other drawers that I hadn’t opened yesterday, wondering what else is available. I find a mini-hairdryer, a shower cap, even a sewing kit, though I’m not likely to do any of that whilst we’re out here. I wonder what I need to take on safari – I tried to google it late last night but my phone doesn’t have any signal out here and I forgot to look for the WiFi code when we were in the main lodge.

  I think about going over to ask Hannah or Felicity, as presumably she will know and Hannah had the guidebook, but it’s still quite early and I worry about waking them. Padding to the window, I draw back the heavy white curtains and am met with a dazzling blue sky. It is azure, cloudless, perfect. Now that it’s light, everything on the complex looks much less mysterious, less spooky – it all just looks beautiful. Releasing the latch on the window, I open it and lean out, looking left to where the plains stretch out ahead of us, great swathes of dark sand and green scrub, hot flames of red desert flowers standing bright amongst the earth, clusters of shrubs crouched close to the ground. The sound of birds – kingfishers, maybe – and the hum of insects filters into my room and I take a long, deep breath, tilting my face to feel the sunshine on my skin. I bet it’s raining in Peckham. I hope Rosie and Ben are getting wet.

  Turning back to the room, I make myself a coffee – it’s delicious, surprisingly, with a deep, earthy taste that feels different from the stuff I have at home. I’ve never been on safari before – a cousin of mine did once, said it was amazing, and although I know it’s not the main reason why we’ve come, I’m really glad that Felicity has organised this for us. No matter what’s happened between us in the past.

  After showering, I rub sun cream on, the scent taking me back to London, to long muggy days reading in the park, shaded by the London plane trees, keeping out of Rosie and Ben’s way. Pulling on a T-shirt and some leggings, I pack a bag with my mozzie spray and sunhat and then step outside onto the walkway, pulling the door to behind me. It is weird that there aren’t any keys, and I make a mental note to ask Felicity this morning. I wonder what time the other guests are arriving. At the thought of the party, of being around strangers, men I don’t know, my palms are instantly slick with sweat. I wipe my hands on my leggings, leaving greasy smears
. The material is too hot against my skin – I should’ve packed more appropriately. All at once, I want to have another shower, scrub my skin under boiling hot water, but I resist the urge, thinking of what my therapist would say. Habits are easy to form; hard to break.

  The other two are already waiting for me at the entrance to the main lodge. Hannah looks suitably kitted out for a morning in the wilds, of course, with khaki cargo pants and trainers, paired with a soft white T-shirt and cap that shields her eyes from the glaring Botswana sun. Alice is wearing sunglasses, but when she lifts them to greet me I see that her eyes look a bit red, as though she might have been crying.

  ‘Morning,’ I say uncertainly, and then, lowering my voice slightly to Alice, ‘You OK?’

  She nods. ‘Just didn’t sleep well, that’s all. Thought I heard something in the night.’ She half-laughs. ‘Convinced myself it was a lion roaming around or something. It’s the wine, gives me bad dreams. Tom says I shouldn’t drink as much.’

  She stops, as though she’s said more than she meant to, and lowers her sunglasses back down over her eyes. The lenses are mirrored; I stare at my tiny reflection, shimmering back at me in the heat. I hate it when people wear mirrored glasses, it always feels as though they’ve got an advantage over you, as if they can see you but you can’t see them. Still, I can hardly ask her to take them off – I’d sound completely mad.

  ‘Where’s Felicity?’ I say, looking at my watch, and Hannah shrugs.