Page 126 of Serenity Falls

‘Okay, fine, Nancy Drew. Here.’ She unzips the backpack and pulls out a folder full of paper, secured with an elastic band. ‘This is what you want.’

They stare at the folder.

‘We’ll give it back,’ Ramona says.

‘Fuck no. Keep it. To be honest, I considered shredding or burning it, but I promised Frankie …’ She trails off.

‘Did you take a look?’

‘Nope. Frankie was a friend. That’s why I agreed to look after this stuff for him. But Frankie’s dead, and this is as far as I go. Do what you like, but leave me out. Understood?’

They all nod. ‘And don’t do anything stupid,’ Lou adds. ‘You’re all a pain in my ass, but I don’t want anything happening to you.’

Sadie stares at her. ‘Do you really think something happened to Frankie because of this?’

Lou looks at her. ‘Frankie’s dead; Chris and his whole family have disappeared. I don’t need this shit.’ She shakes her head. ‘You ever seen that movie – The Matrix?’

Sadie nods. ‘’Course. Although I didn’t think you could watch stuff like that here.’

‘I got a pirate copy. Anyway, you know when the Fishburne guy asks Neo whether he wants to take the blue pill or the red pill? Blue pill, just carry on living your life. It’s not perfect, but it’s safe and normal. Red pill – wake up and realize you’re lying in a cocoon, wired up like a human battery to power mega robots who’ve destroyed the earth.’ She stares at them. ‘I always think, Neo, you took the wrong pill, man.’

‘But what if you want to know the truth?’ Dax asks.

‘It’s overrated.’ Lou stands. ‘Take the blue pill. Every time.’

36

Every teenager has two versions of themselves.

There’s the version you know as a parent and the version their friends know. That person is a stranger. A doppelgänger. They talk about stuff you don’t understand and laugh at jokes you don’t get. They use words that make no sense, rave about people you’ve never heard of and play music you hate. Oh, and every version of you is uncool and embarrassing to them. It’s the circle of life and, yes, it kind of sucks.

Sadie informed me she was meeting up with Ellis and her friends (again) as she was on her way out of the door this morning. I try to tell myself I’m glad she’s found people to spend time with, and that she’s settling in here.

In truth, I feel annoyed. And worried. I don’t know these kids, and I’m concerned they’re not the sensible, trustworthy type of friends I hoped she would make. I know every parent worries about who their child hangs out with. But Sadie doesn’t need any more trouble, not after that fuck James Decker.

However, she’s fifteen, and I can hardly ground her for making friends, so I make another coffee and – a little guiltily – grab my cigarettes. I will quit before the school term starts, I tell myself, not for the first time. I check my phone notifications, even though I checked them as soon as I woke up. No macabre cartoon characters in the back yard. But there is a message from Lori: Thanks for a lovely time. x

I stare at it for a moment. Then I slip the phone in my pocket, pick up my coffee and cigarettes and walk outside. I stare around. Everything looks normal, calm. Beautiful, in fact. Another perfect sunny morning in perfect Serenity Falls. I should be feeling good, rested and relaxed. So why, once again, do I feel tired and on edge?

Maybe it’s the video of Harold Winsom. When I came downstairs this morning, my laptop was open on the kitchen worktop where I must have left it when I came in. I tapped the keypad and Harold’s smug, smiling face filled the screen again.

I snapped the lid closed, but now I find myself thinking about it. Closing Time. The same card in Mum’s things. I know that Winsom came over to the UK frequently. At one point there was talk of a Winsom Wonderland being built in the north-west, although the plans never came to fruition. But if Mum met Winsom, why did she never mention it? Surely, if you knew one of the most famous men in the world, it might come up in conversation at some point?

And she bought the house here just after you were born and Dad left. Are you forgetting that part, Dan?

Maybe I’m putting two and two together and making a fucking camel (as one of my old colleagues, a maths teacher, used to say). Maybe it’s all just a coincidence. I can feel another headache brewing behind my eyes. I pocket the cigarettes, walk back inside and start to excavate the kitchen cupboards in search of painkillers. When that turns up nothing, I head upstairs and rifle through my still half-unpacked case. No joy.

Well, that’s one task I can set myself for the day. Go out and buy more painkillers. While I’m at it, I could call in on Jerry, see if he’s got anywhere with our mystery balloon deliverer. And there’s something else I should really do – I should reply to Lori.

I stare at her message again. It was a good evening. But it ended on a slightly off note. And that was probably my fault. The nosebleed, the migraine, the weird stuff with the statue. We had parted politely with a peck on the cheek, but I realize I would like Lori to think better of me. Not to mention the fact that I don’t want her saying anything bad to Lockhart. I could just drop her a text, but I feel I need to make more of a gesture.

I’m not good at gestures. I’ve always felt flowers and chocolates are kind of cheesy and, fortunately, Nat felt the same. ‘Just buy me booze,’ she’d always joke, ‘Better still, clean the toilets. Right under the rim. That’s a gesture.’

I’m not sure turning up with bleach and Marigolds will do it for Lori, but I still have the bottle of Cloudy Bay in the fridge. I also know where her house is, as we walked home via her road last night. So maybe I could take a chance and drop by with the bottle? It’s worth a try.

I grab the wine out of the fridge. Not wanting to arrive sweaty and bedraggled, I decide to drive. I lock up, climb into the yellow monstrosity and set off down the street, aircon blasting.

First stop, Jerry’s office. I don’t bother with niceties. I park the SUV and block Jerry in. Then I climb out and slam the door loudly, hopefully announcing my arrival.