Cruel Minds (8 page)

Emily looked away. When she looked back again, Oscar was still staring.

***

T
he table emptied as soon as everyone finished eating. Daniel and Helen volunteered to wash the dishes. Ben and Sylvia returned upstairs. As they left the room, Emily heard them complain about the bland food and the ridiculous philosophy of silent eating. While Janelle moved up a few seats to talk to Pamela and Marcia, Melody stood up and wandered out into the hall, shuffling in zigzags like a lost child.

“How are you feeling?” Jerome asked, leaning across the empty seat.

“Better.” Emily watched Melody disappear through the door. Across the table, Oscar was on his feet and brushing crumbs from his shirt.

“Excuse me,” he said. His voice was deep and hollow, like words falling into a bottomless pit. “I don’t mean to stare, it’s just that you look so familiar to me. Have we met?”

Ignoring the palpitations in her chest, Emily shook her head. “No, I don’t think we have.”

His eyes pierced through her as he straightened his shirt collar. “It’s so strange. I’m usually very good with faces and I’m almost certain I’ve seen yours before. My name is Oscar.”

She hesitated, the silence all too telling. “Emily.”

“Emily just has one of those faces,” Jerome said, redirecting Oscar’s attention. “People always think they’ve met her before.”

Oscar’s smile wavered. “And you are?”

“Jerome Miller, actor and best friend.”

For a moment, Oscar’s gaze shifted towards the three women deep in conversation at the far end of the table.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Tell me, Emily, have you been to Meadow Pines before?”

Emily shook her head.

“I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me.”

He pushed his chair under the table. Without acknowledging either of them again, he left the room. A cloying wave of anxiety racked Emily’s body.

“What was
that
all about?” Jerome moved into the seat next to her.

“It’s the bloody newspapers,” Emily whispered. “I just can’t get away from it!”

“You don’t know that. Besides, you
do
have one of those faces.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m being funny.” He placed his hand over hers. “Just don’t worry about it. Even if he does recognize you, so what? It doesn’t mean he’ll bring it up, and it doesn’t mean you have to talk about it if he does.”

“The whole point of coming here was to get away from it all. Honestly, you’d think being in the middle of nowhere for the weekend might have achieved that. But between that journalist and now this, there’s no chance of me getting some peace and quiet, is there?”

Slouching in her chair, Emily folded her arms across her chest. She felt anxiety turn to frustration, frustration to annoyance.

“That journalist hasn’t even spoken a word to you,” Jerome said. “If you want peace and quiet, all you have to do is shut your door or go for a walk. It’s as simple as that.”

Emily shook her head. If only it was as simple as that. Shutting her door might shut out the people, but it didn’t shut out the thoughts in her head.

“Perhaps I’ll go for a walk now before it gets dark,” she said.

“That’s the spirit! You want some company?”

“Why don’t you go do the dishes with Daniel? I’m sure he’d only be too pleased to receive your helping hands.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emily Swanson,” Jerome said, feigning embarrassment. “Besides, he has Helen on drying duty.”

“Even more reason to get in there. Make sure she isn’t snooping around, asking questions.”

“My dear, Emily,” Jerome said in a mock, upper-class accent, “believe it or not, there are billions of people in this world who aren’t even aware of your existence.”

Emily blew out a long stream of air. “It’s not them I’m worried about.”

E
mily found Melody in the garden, staring forlornly at the rose beds. She placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder and felt her muscles tighten.

“Are you all right? You looked upset at dinner,” she said.

Melody nodded, although her body language disagreed. “I’m fine.”

She tried to smile, but a long sigh escaped through her lips.

“I think I might go for a walk. I’d love to see the lake but I don’t know the way.”

Melody swung her shoulders from side to side. She tipped her head and peered at Emily.

“You’re kind,” she said. “We better hurry before we lose the light.”

“Lead the way.”

Emily had taken three steps when she felt a sudden urge to look back towards the house. Oscar was standing in the foyer. He stared at her through the open front door, his thin smile growing sharp edges in the shadows. He nodded once, then turned towards the stairs.

***

T
he evening was warm and heady, the sun-baked earth dry beneath their feet. Above the canopies, the sky was ablaze with molten fire.

“This way,” Melody said, leading Emily northwards across the meadow. They entered the forest side by side. It didn’t take Melody long to find the path that would take them to the lake. Neither of them spoke as they walked. Instead, they listened to the sounds that evening brought in the forest. Birds sang out from branches. Crickets chirruped in the undergrowth. Nocturnal creatures stirred from their daytime slumber.

The path twisted and curled around countless tree trunks, then changed trajectory as the ground began to slope. Minutes later, the trees parted and Emily saw the tranquil waters of the lake.

“Come on,” Melody said, at last. She led Emily along the lake’s edge until they came to a wooden jetty. It was old and rickety-looking, and for a second, Emily felt reluctant to follow Melody onto it.

“It’s fine, really. See?”

Melody sprang on her feet, hopscotching like a child between the planks until she reached the end. A small rowboat was moored to the side, gently bobbing up and down.

Stepping forwards, Emily tested the jetty with her foot. Then, satisfied she would not go plummeting into the lake, she moved along the planks until she stood next to Melody. Together, they sat down, swinging their legs above the water.

The lake was small, perhaps a hundred metres wide and two hundred long. Beech, oak and pine trees bordered its edges. Some were bent over like crooked old men, their lowest branches touching the surface. A flurry of wings flew over the water as birds splashed and fished. Emily watched a large heron swoop down, using its impressive wingspan and long legs to control its descent.

“I can see why this is your favourite place,” she said.

Melody continued to swing her feet.

“Sometimes I daydream that I live in a beautiful log cabin right by this lake. Every morning I open the shutters and the sun streams in. It’s always warm. I walk to the end of the jetty, take off my clothes, and I get in. The water’s cool against my skin. I swim for hours. And I catch fish, which I cook on a camp fire for me and Derek. Later in the day, we go for a long walk in the forest, and when evening comes, we sit on the jetty like we are now, watching the sunset. Every day is the same, but it doesn’t matter because every day is beautiful.”

Emily closed her eyes, picturing Melody’s daydream. Sadness overwhelmed her. She looked at her companion. Tears glistened on Melody’s skin like drops of sunset.

“What is it?” Emily asked. “What’s wrong?”

Melody giggled but it was a pitiful sound. She was quiet for a long time, staring into the water. The sun had reached the treetops. It would be dark soon. Finding their way through the forest and back to the house would be difficult.

“Sometimes, I think I must be the loneliest person in the world,” Melody said. More tears ran down her face. “Sometimes, I think the only thing keeping me here is Derek.”

Emily took Melody’s hand, feeling her pain pass into her like a disease.

“Loneliness is the cruellest thing I can think of,” she said. Thoughts of her mother, of Phillip Gerard, swam in her mind. She felt Melody squeeze her fingers.

“There are far crueller things than loneliness,” she said.

Pulling a tissue from her pocket, Emily handed it to her.

“Has something happened?” she asked, watching as Melody dabbed at the tears. When she was done, she folded the tissues into a neat square, then folded it over again.

“Look at me!” she said. “What a show! I’m so sorry, Emily. You didn’t come to Meadow Pines to hear someone you barely know prattle on about their problems. This is supposed to be a place of peace for goodness sake, and here I am muddying the waters with self-pity.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Emily offered her a smile. “I may be a stranger at Meadow Pines but isn’t that what this weekend is supposed to be about—reconnecting with each other regardless of whether we’re strangers or friends?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

The sound of snapping twigs crackled in Emily’s ears. She turned, peering over her shoulder at the treeline. Melody had heard it too. She stood up. Quiet fell over the lake.

“Probably a deer,” Melody said.

“Isn’t this place enclosed?”

The sound came again—the unmistakable crunch of a branch underfoot. Only this time, it was closer. Emily got to her feet, scanning the forest. The light was fading like a sputtering candle flame, the shadows drawing longer. Snaps and cracks echoed over the water. Someone or something began moving at a deliberate pace, heading away from the lake.

“Come on,” Emily said, unease coiling in the pit of her stomach. “Let’s get back to the house.”

They waited a few minutes until they were certain that whatever or whoever had been watching them was long gone. By the time they’d made it out of the forest and back to the house, dusk had settled over Meadow Pines like a blanket.

“I feel silly,” Melody whispered as Emily said goodnight. The other guests had already returned to their rooms and the upstairs hall was silent.

“You shouldn’t,” Emily replied. “Everybody has moments of feeling lost. I’m sure you’ll wake up tomorrow and feel as right as rain. In a place as lovely as Meadow Pines you don’t have any other choice.”

Melody surprised her with a rib-crunching hug. “You’re funny. Goodnight, Emily.”

“Goodnight.”

Melody closed her door. Emily stood still for a second before she turned and tiptoed down the corridor.

***

J
erome was sitting on his bed in his boxers and a vest, staring sullenly at the wall.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, her head poking around the door. She had been hoping for some of Jerome’s cheer to lift her mood. Her conversation with Melody at the lake had left her feeling miserable, her head filled with memories of her mother. It had been just over a year since her death, and although Emily had started to get a handle on the pain, burying it deeper beneath flesh and sinew, it was still very much present. But it wasn’t just stirred up memories that bothered her. The sounds she and Melody had heard—had someone been watching them? Or were her recent experiences clouding her judgement?

Jerome looked up. “I feel bad, Em. Maybe coming to a retreat wasn’t the best suggestion.”

“What do you mean?” She moved into the room and sat down beside him.

“Maybe Ben and Sylvia have a point—there’s nothing to do in this place. There’s nothing to fill the silence. Which means there’s nothing to stop all those bad thoughts from swimming to the surface.”

Emily frowned. “Are you talking about me or are you talking about yourself.”

“A little of both,” Jerome said. He reached up and plucked a leaf from Emily’s hair. “After you left, I helped Daniel and Helen to clear up. We talked for a while—Helen’s not all that bad by the way—and then they both went off to their rooms. I sat out on the porch for a while. One minute, I was trying to assimilate myself into nature, trying to get down with this whole retreat thing, the next I was thinking about when I was fourteen years old and getting my head kicked in every day at school for being queer. I don’t want to think about that stuff. It’s in the past and it’s too depressing to bring up again.”

“It’s good to reflect sometimes. To see how far you’ve come,” Emily offered.

“I can reflect very well by looking in the bathroom mirror, thank you.” Jerome shook his head. “I don’t like this place, Em. I don’t like the way it messes with my head. And the people are weird. And I want my phone back.”

“I think you need to ignore that overactive imagination of yours and get some sleep,” Emily said. It was unsettling to see Jerome so morose. In fact, thinking back, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him so miserable. Angry, yes. Scared, yes. But never sad. “Look, maybe we’ve both gotten off on the wrong foot with Meadow Pines. Perhaps we should both be a little more patient and see what tomorrow brings. Things always look better come the morning.”

Jerome narrowed his eyes as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Well, if I don’t feel enlightened by lunchtime I want my money back.”

Twenty minutes later, Emily was ready for bed. Leaving the window half-open, she switched off the light and climbed under the sheets. The mattress was thin and lumpy, which made her miss her comfortable double bed at home. Nocturnal sounds of the forest crept in through the open window. Owls hooted. Tree branches rustled. Bats fluttered over the meadow. In the black sky, countless stars glittered. It had been a long time since Emily had experienced the true darkness of the countryside.

In the blackness of her room, she took in a deep breath through her nose, held it, and then let it slowly escape from her mouth. Her body was tired, but her mind still buzzed with the day’s events. Instinctively, she thought about taking a sleeping pill. Then, remembering sleeping pills were no longer part of her nightly ritual, she turned onto her side and tried to tune out the night time sounds.

A memory came to her. She was a young girl, tucked up in bed in her childhood home. Her mother’s gentle voice floated up through the floorboards as she sang along to an old Tammy Wynette record. Emily’s mind became calmer. Thoughts settled down. Her eyelids grew heavy. Outside, the owls ceased hooting. The breeze dispersed. Then, just as Emily was about to fall into the arms of sleep, she heard voices.