Page 61 of Serenity Falls

‘Funny,’ Ellis says. ‘When you’ve lived here a while, you’ll get it.’

Sadie folds her arms. ‘Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I’m already done with all this weird shit.’

‘Says the girl who keeps her dead cat in a box under her bed.’

Sadie stares at her. Touché.

‘Look,’ Ellis says. ‘You found a body in your pool. I thought you might want to know why.’ She pauses. ‘And I thought you might want to hang out, too.’

Sadie wants to say she isn’t interested in why Frankie ended up in their pool, or in hanging out with Ellis; she has plenty of friends back home. But that would be a lie. She doesn’t have any friends back in the UK. After what happened with Decker, even people she thought were friends dropped her. She was a snitch, a slag, a liar. It’s left her wary of trusting people. But maybe here things could be different.

‘I’m fussy about who I hang out with,’ she says.

Ellis nods. ‘Yeah, right. Me too. I could have chosen the most popular kids in school, but I picked Shaggy and Miss “your accent is so cute” because they are way cooler.’

Despite herself, Sadie smiles. ‘Maybe I’m interested.’

Ellis grins. ‘Okay. We’re meeting at the fairground tomorrow night. Come along and I can show you something really epic.’

Sadie looks at her sceptically. Then she relents. ‘Okay.’

‘Airdrop me your number.’

‘I thought phones were banned.’

‘Just make it quick.’

Sadie takes out her phone and sends her number.

‘Great,’ Ellis says. ‘I’ll let you know where and what time.’

Sadie watches her run back to the diner, blonde hair bouncing. Cute. But nuts.

She’s about to slip her phone back in her bag when it pings with a text. Dad.

You okay? How’s the unpacking going?

Change of plans. Went to diner with Ellis and friends.

Great! Have fun. Just going to grab a coffee. See you later.

She replies with a smiley face and pockets her phone. If Dad’s not home, there’s not much point in heading back. She looks around. What the hell is there to do around here – apart from sweat? She supposes she could go and hang by the lake or … she could check out the fairground. Get the lay of the land before – if – she meets Ellis tomorrow.

She strolls down the street. A few people pass, smile and nod. Maybe just being friendly, but she feels that prickling of discomfort again. She reaches the path that runs around the park and lake. It’s pretty, she has to admit. Green grass, sparkling water. Even a quaint pink-and-white ice-cream van sitting by the kerb, serving window closed for some reason. Maybe it ran out of ice, she thinks.

A sign directs her past the top of the lake and on to a path that runs along the edge of woodland. It’s shadier for a while and then it opens out to an ornamental bridge. She crosses it and, ahead, she can see a large field and the mythical fairground.

It’s bigger than she expected and looks so fairgroundy it’s almost unreal. Like if you asked a little kid to draw a picture of a fairground, this is what they’d draw. Not the scruffy, slightly tacky fairgrounds you get in the UK with their distorted disco music, blaring lights and badly painted (and infringing on copyright) pictures of famous Winsom characters.

Sadie can see a Big Wheel, a Helter-Skelter, Dodgems, multiple carnival stalls and, right in the middle, a huge Carousel, the multicoloured horses frozen mid-gallop, eyes wide, nostrils flared.

When Sadie was a little kid, Carousel horses freaked her out. Their bodies impaled by thick gold poles, teeth bared in agony, condemned to race around the Carousel for all eternity. Not that these horses are going anywhere, not even round and round. The fairground is obviously shut. The stalls have their flaps down and the rides are still and silent. Although … she can hear music playing faintly somewhere. An old, sentimental Winsom tune. It’s kind of creepy, drifting out over the deserted fairground.

She tries to ignore it and walks across the dry grass, up to the Carousel. The horses here are the most elaborate and lifelike she’s ever seen. Painted shades of white, dappled grey and black, their manes look luxuriant, eyes bright with excitement, muscles and sinews gleaming. She looks around and, before she knows it, she’s climbing on to the wooden Carousel. She rests a hand on one of the horse’s polished flanks. Solid, inanimate wood. Of course.

And then something moves.

She jumps, heart pounding, before she realizes it’s a child, a little boy, darting between the horses. Maybe aged four or five. Messy blond hair, dressed in a dirty yellow T-shirt and blue shorts. Just like the little boy in the flyer. Davey Junior.