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“Oh, you should definitely head down to the clubhouse. Marilyn’s made flapjack and brownies,” Alex points out.
“Is food all you think about these days, woman?” Grace continues her attempt to lighten the mood.
“Food… and other stuff,” Alex shrugs, her skin turning pink. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it makes Grace laugh.
“Come on. We’re taking a walk and grabbing some of Marilyn’s brownies before they all go. We can talk on the way if you want to.” Grace picks up the travel mug and places it in my hands, and I decide that going with her will be a far better option than sitting around here and overthinking why Screwy left.
We say goodbye to Alex out on the yard as she climbs into her car and drives off, and then we take a steady walk down the track toward the clubhouse.
“It’s really beautiful here.” I break the silence as I take in my surroundings.
“You can see why they picked the place to be a holiday resort. The views, the lake. You can imagine families coming here and staying in the cabins, can’t you?”
“I really like it here,” I admit. Sure, the people here are a little scary at first, but they’re all friendly. I love the family vibe and how all the girls here look out for each other. “I don’t feel ready to leave. Do you think that’s why I can’t remember anything from before I was taken? Maybe I don’t want to remember, so I get to stay here.”
“Maybe.” Grace’s eyes avoid contact with mine as we keep moving forward. She’s been unnerved since she read Screwy's note. She’s keeping something from, me and I don’t like it.
When we arrive at the club, Grace leads me through the doors into the foyer. The place seems different now that I know it used to be a vacation spot. This would have been the main entrance, and I guess the long wooden counter set aside from the door to the main bar room would have been the check-in desk. Now it has the Dirty Soul hooded skull artistically carved into its wood and seems a million miles away from a place families would gather.
“The kitchen’s up here,” Grace tells me, already climbing the stairs up to the first story. There are lots of closed doors down a corridor to my right, but it’s the big double ones that line up with the main club bar below that she leads me through.
The room isn’t what I expected it to be. It’s a vast contrast to the downstairs bar. Up here is carpeted. And yeah, it’s fraying and dated, but I’m sure it would have been fancy all those years ago. The tall windows are ornately decorated, with long golden drapes, and despite them needing a good clean, they look elaborate. It’s a huge open space that even the arrangement of restaurant-style tables pulled together into one large rectangle doesn't seem to over occupy. I look up at the Artex ceiling and the chandeliers that hang from various points of the room. This must have been the dining hall when the place was up and running. The steel contessa lined up against the back of the wall confirms it. And I have to wonder how I know all this when I can’t recall ever being on a vacation in my life.
“Hey, Gracie girl.” A head pops up from behind the hatch at the back of the room, and I recognize Marilyn, Maddy’s mom, straight away.
“Morning, Mar. You got anything left?” Grace sways into the kitchen through the swinging door, and I follow behind, impressed by its size.
“Help yourselves.” Marilyn shoves a white porcelain plate into my hands, and I look greedily at what’s on offer.
“Sorry, all the breakfast has gone. You know what those boys can be like, especially the ones who left for Nevada and got here early. There’s plenty of baked stuff left.”
“Where would we be without you?” Grace pecks the woman on her cheek before helping herself to a brownie.
“You see Brax?” she asks casually, forking a piece of melon from the bowl on the counter and popping it into her mouth too.
“Yep, he left about half an hour ago with Troj and Jessie. I don’t know where they were headed, but I doubt it will be far, not with all the—”
“These are delicious,” Grace cuts her off, almost spitting the contents of her mouth across the room.
“Well, you fill ya boots, girls–you could definitely do with some meat on your bones.” Marilyn eyes me up particularly. “I’m gonna go strip the beds in the guest rooms. I’m sure I’ve been left with some parting gifts.” Her eyes roll as she goes to leave, and I put my plate down and chase after her.
“Let me help,” I beg. I’m in serious need of a distraction and should keep myself busy.
“Really, it's not pleasant cleaning up after those boys. It’s grunt work. I only do it because I’m not squeamish, and I know Tawk and Storm would never make the place sterile,” Marilyn warns, and I try not to look too horrified.
“I just want to help out while I’m here and pull my weight.” I shrug. These people can’t treat me like a victim forever. Now I’m here, they might as well make use of me.
Marilyn looks to Grace, who puts her plate down, looking unimpressed.
“Fine, I’ll help out too, but I refuse to touch anything that's been near a penis.” She shudders. “I’ll clear up everything in here,” her eyes roam over the kitchen sides. They seem pretty spotless, with the exception of a few leftovers.
“I can’t promise Tac’s dick hasn’t been near that trolly.” Marilyn winks back at her mischievously before grabbing my hand.
“Come on, girly.” She drags me out of the kitchen, leaving Grace, who looks like she’s about to throw up.
Marilyn shows me the cleaning closet and hands me the vacuum. “I’ll get started on stripping the beds. You vacuum out here and then follow behind me. I appreciate the help.” She smiles, loading herself up with fresh linen from one of the shelves and then pottering down the hall. I like Marilyn. She seems kind and cheery. I wonder if she’s anyone's old lady?
Moving the vacuum across the fraying carpet, I try not to think about Screwy or the way Grace and Alex were acting so cagey. I concentrate on sucking up the bits embedded into the carpet, taking my time, and making sure I get every last speck. It takes me a while to finish the hall, but I set straight to tackling the rooms one by one.
