The Wild Girls Page 11

  ‘I don’t know, I thought she said she was coming.’

  It’s just gone seven, and we decide to head out to the main gates to where Felicity has said the Land Rover will pick us up. Yawning, I press a discreet silver button on the wicker fencing on either side of the gates, but nothing happens. I try again, and feel my pulse quicken as the tall gates remain resolutely still.

  ‘I can’t get out,’ I say quickly, hating the way my voice is rising at the end but not being able to control it. For a moment, I feel a horrible sense of claustrophobia, as though we really are trapped here; despite all this luxury, all this wealth, the sensation of not being able to get out is as panic-inducing as it would be if we were in a prison cell.

  ‘Let me try,’ Alice says, sighing impatiently, and to my annoyance when she presses the button the gates swing open first time, cutting smoothly through the dust and releasing us from the complex.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, and Hannah gives me a kind look before we head through the gates, back onto the main road where the driver dropped us the day before. It is deserted.

  The three of us look up and down the road, expecting to see our lift rounding the corner at any minute, but nothing materialises and it somehow feels as though nobody has been down this way for a long time – the tarmac sits silently, burning in the heat; the gum trees don’t even sway. Everything is still, silent. Waiting. The same sense of foreboding that I had when we first reached the lodges comes over me as I stare down the track, stronger this time, and I shiver as if someone’s walked over my grave. We should have waited inside the gates, not out here. It doesn’t feel safe.

  ‘Give Flick a call, would you, Grace?’ Alice asks and I oblige, pulling out my phone before I even think to wonder why she can’t do it herself, why she feels the need to give me orders. I am so used to playing my part that it has become second nature now.

  ‘Ugh, my head,’ Alice says, putting a hand to her forehead and pulling a face at Hannah. ‘This is way too early the night after champagne. Why did we agree to this again?’

  ‘Come on, it’ll be so much fun,’ Hannah protests. ‘I’ve been reading up on it – apparently you have to stay well back from the elephants when they’re with their young, they get very over-protective. Everyone always thinks they’re all tame and innocent but really, they’re not.’

  ‘They’ve got a dark side?’ Alice says, laughing, and there’s something in her voice when she says it that makes me feel uneasy, a chill washing over me despite the heat of the day.

  ‘There are snakes out here,’ Hannah says, glancing down at our feet as though one might appear on cue. Alarm reverberates through me; I hadn’t even thought about snakes.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Hannah says, ‘we just have to be careful to always wear shoes. Pretty deadly, some of them, it said in the guidebook. When we get out there I was thinking we could carry sticks, too, you know, to beat the snakes with if they get too close.’

  Alice groans, her hangover clearly not up for dealing with this new and unwelcome piece of information.

  ‘They’re late,’ Hannah says, checking her watch again. I press my phone against my ear, listen to the ringing, but Felicity doesn’t pick up. My eyes are still on the ground, terrified now of a flicker in the grass, the snap of a tail or a flash of colour. I imagine the tiny dart of pain, the poison making its way into my veins, and give a little shudder.

  ‘She did say she was coming, right?’ says Alice, and I nod.

  ‘Definitely. Perhaps she’s still sick, though? She might have changed her mind. Or perhaps she moved the pick-up time and forgot to tell us?’

  ‘Let’s give it five minutes,’ Hannah says, sensibly. ‘They might turn up any minute and we don’t want to miss them.’

  ‘Shall we wait back inside the gates?’ I say, trying to keep the nerves from my voice.

  ‘Oh, Grace, we’re fine out here,’ Alice says, and I retreat back into myself.

  We lapse into a silence, broken only by the sound of Alice popping two paracetamol from a packet in her bag and swallowing them quickly. I stifle a yawn – it still feels really early, and if the safari guides are a no-show I’d rather go back to bed, get another hour or so of sleep so that I’m not completely exhausted by the party tonight. The coffee doesn’t seem to have done the trick.

  ‘Maybe we ought to go check on her?’ Alice ventures eventually. ‘We could just go to Zebra Lodge, make sure she’s OK? Check that she’s happy for us to go without her if needs be?’

  We hesitate a few moments longer, but there is no sign of anyone coming on the horizon, and at least Felicity will be able to call them on our behalf.

  ‘Maybe she’s still asleep,’ Hannah muses, ‘although you’d think she’d have set an alarm, or at least popped out to tell us what was going on. To be honest, I actually think it’s quite rude of her not to have come and said hi last night.’ She sniffs disapprovingly. There’s a sharpness to her tone, a tinge of bitterness that I might be imagining.

  ‘Let’s go back,’ I say. ‘I want to make sure she’s all right.’

  As we head back inside the gates, Hannah taking one final look over her shoulder to make sure we haven’t missed anyone arriving, my phone beeps and I see a message from Rosie come through. Your mum rang the flat. Wants you to call her back.

  I put my phone away. There’s no time for my mother right now. We need to find Felicity.

  Hannah

  To be honest, she’s really disappointed – yes, OK, she feels a little bit hungover and she wishes she hadn’t let Alice top up her wine so many times last night but Hannah had really wanted to go on safari today, and now it looks like yet another one of Felicity’s promises that don’t quite come true. God knows there have been enough over the years that they’ve known her.

  There was the time when they were fifteen, when Felicity promised Hannah she’d get her an invite to Danny Loughnane’s party, that she’d make her case and get her on the list – which, of course, was reserved for the popular girls of which Felicity was, ostensibly, one and Hannah was not. There was the time a few years ago, when she said she’d help Chris and Hannah get on the property ladder, that she had a friend of a friend who was an estate agent and might give them a discount. There was the time she swore blind to Hannah that she’d come to her birthday dinner – then turned up four hours late and missed everything.

  But why is Hannah dredging this all up now, when they are staying here in the lap of luxury, completely at Felicity’s expense? Why must she be such a vulture?

  The note wedged into her doorframe is stuffed into the side of her suitcase, hidden from view. She’d passed out last night without phoning Chris, her mind circling the message over and over. I know what you did. She keeps sneaking glances at Alice and Grace, trying to work out whether one of them could have written it. But it’s such a horrible thing to do, and she can’t shake the feeling that it seems like a threat. If someone is testing her, trying to make her feel guilty, they have another think coming. Hannah dreamed last night of wine glasses stained with red, of Chris holding their son, of Felicity laughing, of bare feet and a dark night sky.

  ‘You OK, Han?’ Alice says, linking her arm through Hannah’s, and Hannah squeezes her arm without thinking, the warmth of her reassuring. Alice wouldn’t have left her a message like that, surely? Grace is up ahead, her back to them. She looks like she’s going on a run, not on safari – she must be sweltering in Lycra leggings in this heat.

  Hannah feels a stab of self-loathing as they troop back through the gates onto the walkway, heading for Zebra Lodge. Nothing ever contents her, does it – she’s always got to pick holes in people. She thinks of Chris and Max back home, bobbling along contentedly with their lives, and wonders if they are missing her. Or whether they have barely noticed that she’s gone. She texted Chris when she woke up, asking what he’d wanted to talk about last night, but he still hasn’t replied and the signal is so patchy that Hannah can’t call. He’d tell her not to worry, that pe
rhaps the note is just a joke, or a mistake. She’ll have to pluck up the courage to ask the girls about it, though, or else it’ll drive her mad.

  ‘This way,’ Grace says, and Alice and Hannah follow her down to the right, to the only remaining lodge that none of them has been into. As they walk, Hannah’s heart begins to beat just a little bit faster; her chest tightens like a drum. Though it is hot, a slight breeze winds its way through the air, disturbing the long grasses that surround them. There is something eerie about the way their fronds move, like fingers brushing against each other, or reaching out towards the girls. Hannah watches as Alice lifts a hand, pulls a few leaves off as she walks, crushing them in her palm absent-mindedly, and makes a mental note to warn her about the poisonous plants out here: Hannah has read about them in the guidebook. Some of them will cause a rash; some of them are lethal.

  Abruptly and with no warning, Grace freezes in front of them and yelps, but it is only a lizard, darting across the walkway, its small body quick and afraid. It skitters away, down the brown bank towards the water. Hannah sees the glint of green beetles in the mud, their shiny backs winking at her, as if they’re guarding a secret.

  The curtains to Zebra Lodge are pulled tight.

  ‘Nathaniel can’t be in with her, can he?’ Grace says, her voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched. ‘He can’t have been cooped up in there all this time, without us knowing?’

  ‘Firstly, I don’t think he’s here, but secondly even if he was, he could easily have gone out,’ Alice says, snapping slightly. ‘He might have gone into the nearest village or something.’ She pauses. ‘It’s not like any of us have ever really been that close to him. And there must be some signs of civilisation around here.’

  ‘Ssh,’ Hannah says, as they approach the door to the lodge. ‘He might hear us, if he is in there with her.’

  Grace hesitates, like she always does, outside the door. Alice pushes past her.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this, it’s ridiculous.’

  She lifts a hand and bangs on the door, loudly, causing the little wooden sign on the front to bounce slightly against the boards.

  ‘Alice, she’s sick!’ Grace says, but Alice simply rolls her eyes and, to be honest, Hannah’s on her side here. They were meant to be going on safari, and they’ve been here for hours now – for Felicity to not come out feels rude and strange. No matter how sick she is.

  ‘Felicity,’ Alice calls, ‘it’s us! Wanting to see how you are. Let us in, can you?’

  A pause. The three of them are frozen still on the walkway. Above them, a bird calls shrilly, the sound desperate, like a plea, mirroring their own frustration.

  ‘Flick!’ Hannah says, trying to make her voice softer. She pauses, tries again. ‘Felicity! Are you in there? Is anyone with you? It’s Hannah.’

  Alice glares at her, obviously thinking that she can do better, but still there is no reply and Grace begins to look frightened. Her breathing is quickening, and panicky blotches of red stain her cheeks.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she says. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Let’s try to get inside,’ Alice replies, and she bangs on the door again, much harder this time. There is a cracking sound and the door gives, the small metal lock swinging forward, clearly broken. Darkness spills out of the lodge; the lamps are all off and there is a strange, musty smell emanating from inside, at odds with the scent of pine that permeates everything outside.

  ‘Flick?’ Hannah says again, but quietly this time. Alice, braver than the other two, pushes the door further back and steps inside, and with some trepidation, Hannah follows her.

  Both of them look towards the bed, anxious to see her shape under the covers, the familiar slightness of her figure, the dash of her golden blonde hair on the pillow.

  But that’s not what they see at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alice

  Felicity isn’t there. The lodge is completely untouched – as though it has never been used. Alice flicks on the lights, and the room is illuminated – the bed is pristine, neatly made, the curtains are drawn but tidy, and there is no sign of any belongings – no suitcases, no handbag, no clothes strewn about – nothing.

  Behind her, Grace gives a little scream and Alice follows her gaze to see the flat, glassy eyes of a zebra head on the floor, attached to a black-and-white striped rug. The effect in here is somehow not luxurious; it’s macabre.

  ‘Well,’ Alice says, trying not to show how unnerved she’s feeling inside, ‘she must be feeling better. Must have gone out.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Hannah says, snappily, which is unlike her. ‘It’s obvious she’s not here but she can’t have left without telling us. She wouldn’t.’

  Alice goes into the bathroom, which is set up exactly like her own, and touches the marble sink – it is completely dry. The towels hang pristinely on the rack, and the shampoo bottles are full – there is none of Felicity’s trademark messiness, the trail of life a person would leave. There are no signs of anyone being unwell – no scattered tissues on the side, no medicine bottles or half-empty packets of paracetamol. There is just silence, and a growing sense of unease in Alice’s stomach.

  ‘I’m trying Nathaniel on Instagram, just in case he knows anything,’ Hannah calls from the bedroom. She taps away at her phone, relieved to find a bar of signal, and navigates to his page – ‘it’s NateinLdn,’ Grace says – but then frowns, confusion creeping across her face.

  ‘It says user not found,’ she says uncertainly. ‘He must have deleted it.’

  ‘Try Facebook,’ Grace says, and Hannah opens the app, types in his name. All three of the girls stare at the anonymous grey circle that confronts them.

  ‘It looks like he’s blocked you or something,’ Alice says. ‘Let me try.’ She does so, but is met with the same results. She can’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance – really, Nate?

  ‘I’m calling Flick again,’ Grace says, and she does, but this time they all hear the sound of Felicity’s chirpy voicemail, instructing them to leave a message.

  Where are you??? Alice messages her, but the WhatsApp message gives her only a single tick – a sign that it hasn’t yet delivered to her phone.

  ‘She must be out of signal, it’s so up and down here,’ Alice says, but Grace is already whining.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ she says, ‘I know it is.’

  She shivers slightly in the cool air of the lodge and Alice switches off the light, opening the door to let the natural sunlight flood in. Dust motes glow in the air as they go back outside.

  The air feels even hotter, now, and Alice has a sudden urge to duck back inside the lodge, away from her friends, and burrow down into the cool white pillows of Felicity’s empty bed. Well, it’s not as though she’s making use of it.

  The three of them look at each other. A vein stands out in Grace’s forehead, thin but prominent, and Hannah’s hair is frizzing at the ends, frying slowly in the baking heat. Sweat coats Alice’s upper lip and the underside of her arms, prickling her skin.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Grace,’ says Hannah at last. ‘Nothing is wrong, I promise.’

  But Grace is right – the whole complex is beginning to feel very eerie, and as Alice looks around at the flat African plains and the elusive water running below them, she realises how isolated they are. By all accounts, they are alone behind these gates; apart from the wild animals that surround them in the bush. They don’t even have a car.

  ‘I vote we double-check the main lodge,’ Hannah says decisively, and in that instant Alice is glad that she is here – mother hen Hannah, the sensible one, the one you can always count on. The boring one, she hears Felicity’s voice mutter in her ear, and suddenly Alice hears it, the sound of her cackle, loud and slightly drunken, knowing she’s saying something she shouldn’t. Alice’s head whips round but of course, Felicity isn’t here – she is imagining it, recalling a memory, as if the thought of Felicity might conjure her up in front of them, get the holida
y back on track.

  ‘OK,’ Alice says, shaking her head slightly to dislodge the disloyal thoughts; that is the past, after all, and they are where they are. Hannah is good to have around – better than Grace, at any rate, who is trying Felicity’s mobile repeatedly, resolutely ignoring the fact that it is obviously switched off.

  ‘Will you stop that, Grace?’ Alice snaps, irritation at the tinny sound of Felicity’s voicemail pushing her over the edge, and she instantly looks cowed, hurt spreading over her features like melted butter onto bread.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, but Alice can tell she thinks she’s being unreasonable. She knows she ought to feel bad, but right now she doesn’t have the capacity to care – she’s on edge, and Grace’s over-sensitivity and constant anxiety is really the last thing they need in this admittedly strange situation.

  ‘Come on,’ Hannah says, ever the peacemaker, and she puts a hand on Grace’s arm, gently steering her in the direction of the main lodge.

  Inside, they agree to split up – Alice is to take the west side, from the dining room onwards, Hannah is checking the outside decking that surrounds the lodges, and Grace is to look in the bedrooms. Alice wanders through the luxurious rooms, her sunglasses on her head, wondering what to do – it’s not as if she’ll find Felicity lurking underneath a cushion or inside a chest, though she does pull open the doors of the cupboards in the kitchen and the living room, peering into darkness and finding nothing out of the ordinary each time. As she searches, Alice thinks of the games they played in Felicity’s house, of cowering inside the wardrobe whilst the others hunted for her, her palms sweating, her tongue sticky with alcohol, terrified that Felicity’s father would come home and discover her hiding place before Felicity herself could. For some reason, the thought of being in a confined space with him made her feel sick with nerves, but it never happened. Hide and seek! – the girls used to call, ready or not, I’m coming!

  As Alice paces around, she feels an odd sensation, as though somebody or something is watching her. The statues at the sides of the room cast shadows onto the floor, as the heat of the morning sun pulses through the windows, and she feels as though the eyes of the painted animals can see her fruitlessly hunting for their friend. She finds the room with the fridges, where Grace spilled the champagne, and runs her fingers over the window ledge, feeling the catch beneath her thumb. It’s closed now, shut tight, but she could have sworn it was open yesterday evening. Alice squeezes her eyes closed, trying to think, to remember the moment when the bottle smashed and she and Hannah had walked into the room. The air was definitely colder, wasn’t it? She can’t work out if she’s misremembering – her mind feels slow and sluggish, the hangover making her brain foggier than usual. There is a patch of something sticky on the sill, and Alice sees a couple of ants, trailing a line from the window to the substance, feasting on the spill. Soon, she thinks, they will become a writhing mass of black.