Page 26 of Serenity Falls

There is a special place in hell reserved for people who arrive early.

And I don’t mean by a few minutes, I mean a full fifteen minutes early. The doorbell rings at precisely 11.15 a.m. My phone informs me: Motion detected at front door, which immediately reminds me about the weird fucking incident last night.

I’ve been trying my hardest to rationalize what I saw on the security camera. When I went outside to look, there was no one there. And when I checked my phone this morning, the notification had disappeared. Gone. Nothing.

I’ve considered the possibility it could be someone playing a sick prank. But if so, why? And it doesn’t explain how the notification vanished from my phone. The only other explanation is the one I half mentioned to Sadie – some kind of glitch with the camera software. Maybe the image of Frankie was from earlier in the day, when he first arrived at the house. It just looked like it was at night because of the angle of the camera or something.

But what about the sign around his neck, Dan? What about that? You didn’t see it when you found him in the pool.

Well, maybe it sank, or Jerry took it. The events were hazy. I was in shock. There has to be a rational explanation. I’m a grown-up. I don’t believe in ghosts or bogeymen. The only monsters lurking in the dark are human monsters. I don’t worry about the walking dead when Sadie is out in the evening. I worry about young men in casualwear and expensive trainers. Real monsters are always disappointingly ordinary.

The doorbell rings again. For fuck’s sake. I glance at the camera image – a distorted view of a man with a huge mop of white hair, a teenage girl skulking behind him. Not only early but now making me feel like I’m running late.

I curse again. I’m still in my underwear, sifting through my suitcase for some shorts that don’t have holes in, paint down them or, as Sadie puts it, ‘make me look like I’m a member of Wham! in the eighties’.

I find a vaguely respectable pair of black combat shorts and drag them on. I hastily button my shirt (one of my plainer efforts), slip on my trainers, and I’m just about ready. I could brush my hair again, but it’s the type of coarse, almost curly hair that hates brushes. Brushing, in fact, only pisses it off, so it’s probably best to let it lie.

‘Someone at the door,’ Sadie yells up from the hall.

‘Coming,’ I call back as I reach the landing and scramble down the stairs.

She’s changed into a long black sundress speckled with white stars and moons. This is coupled with black Converse. Her caramel hair is loosely tied in two low pigtails. She looks like Wednesday’s long-lost English cousin.

I wonder briefly what Principal Lockhart will make of us. Then I wonder why I care. Then I remember it’s because I need this damn job. Fifteen minutes early be damned. I plaster on a smile.

‘Don’t do that,’ Sadie says.

‘What?’

‘That.’ She gestures at my mouth.

I feign hurt. ‘It’s my welcoming smile.’

‘It’s really not.’

‘Okay.’ I let my lips loosen, rub my jaw and try again. ‘This?’

‘Better.’

I walk to the door. ‘Ready?’

‘Born ready.’ She offers a high-wattage smile of her own and my heart caves. If anyone should ever do anything to hurt her, I would rip out their fucking lungs and burn them in front of them. Of course, it’s that type of thinking that got me sacked from my last job.

I pull open the front door. Principal Lockhart’s head is only slightly smaller in real life. His hair is a marvellous bouffant of white that makes me think of a Mr Whippy (although it still only takes him to just above my shoulder in height). He has a wide, open face and is dressed in Bermuda shorts, a white shirt and a wrinkled khaki jacket. He looks like a cherub on safari. Behind him, his daughter: blonde hair and glasses, a black T-shirt with a band name on I don’t recognize, cut-off denim shorts and Vans.

‘Mr Barker!’ Principal Lockhart exclaims. ‘Sorry we’re running early. I know that makes us a nuisance.’

‘No,’ I lie. ‘Not at all. We’re all ready and raring to go.’

Raring to go? Jesus. Tone it down, Dan.

‘Oh, good.’ Lockhart’s face adopts a more sombre look. ‘I was devastated to hear about the accident yesterday. It must have been a terrible shock.’

‘Well, it wasn’t quite the welcome to our new home we were expecting.’

He laughs, a little nervously. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Of course,’ I add, ‘it’s the young man’s family we feel sorry for. It was a shock for us, but I can’t imagine how they’re feeling right now—’