She stalked away along the beach, rattled and angry… but at the same time, kind of sad for them all. None of them seemed to have matured a week since the last time they’d met, not even Talia. Although she and Talia had met up a few times since, and Talia had seemed to be getting her adult life on track, all it took was a few drinks and the company of the other ex-Blues, and she’d instantly become puddle-deep.
She could hear Francis making his excuses with the others as she walked away, and felt grateful for his support but also a little guilty to drag him from the party. She reached the sandy walk up between the sea grass and hedges of gorse and sedge, bent into humps by the prevailing North Sea breeze. And for a second she froze, thinking she saw someone move at the top of the path. A tall, lean, dark figure.
Her heart skipped a beat and by then the figure was gone. She took a deep breath. It was night. The lights from the holiday village cast long shadows across the field, easy to mistake in the moonlight.
But what if Lucas really had been there tonight? What if she hadn’t just had some kind of over-wrought brain fart? By the time Francis caught up with her she was already dismissing that thought. It was too bizarre and thinking about it any more was just feeding her PTSD.
‘They’re all coming,’ warned Francis. ‘They’re sorry for being so insensitive.’
Kate groaned. ‘Oh god… I just want to go to bed. They’re great, you know? In their own way. But not when they’re pissed and I’m tired. Let’s go.’
They hurried away up the path, where there was no evidence of any shadowy Lucas-alike, and headed off towards their chalet, which was at the top end of the site. Unfortunately, the others had made it their mission to catch up, and so in a couple of minutes they were all together again.
‘I’m sorry, lovey,’ said Talia, grabbing her arm. ‘You should arrest me for being a nasty drunken tart with no filter!’
Kate laughed. Talia was always a highly entertaining drunk, too.
‘Come on,’ said Craig. ‘One last try at Handy Bendy Julie’s door! She’s got to have come to bed by now so we can bloody wake her up again!’
And they veered off back to the block where Craig and Julie’s chalets were located. Kate sighed and shook her head at Francis. ‘One quick hello, and I’m going. No argument.’
The chalet looked the same as before; lights on, curtains drawn. Craig knocked loudly and called, ‘Juuulieeeee! Handy Bendy Julieeeeee!’
‘Sshhhh!’ said Nikki. ‘Children asleep!’
So Craig staggered against the door and whispered at the keyhole. Kate glanced down at the foot of the sliding patio door. That prickle of unease was suddenly back. Something was wrong here. She stepped up to the door and pulled it. As Craig had already demonstrated, it was clearly locked. Kate frowned, trying to think clearly. Most likely Julie had set out to find them a couple of hours ago; she’d probably met up with Gary in the main ballroom or maybe some of the guys from the house band. She’d always got on well with Gary and had been on friendly terms with the girl singer who was still fronting the band. It was after midnight now, though and the ballroom would have shut. Even the bars would be closed now, so where would Julie be? And why hadn’t she just dropped Talia a text?
Kate looked at the bit of orange striped curtain caught in the locked patio door. It chilled her. Why? Because of Julie. Everyone knew that Julie was borderline OCD. Incredibly neat and organised. The idea of her slamming that sliding door shut and locking it, when a bit of curtain was stuck in it, just seemed utterly impossible.
Or was she just imagining things because of too much time spent in the company of Lucas Henry and his unhappy knack for picking up very bad things through his dowsing instinct? He was always going on about how everyone had the capacity to dowse. Was she dowsing now? Was she picking up something? Or was she just so shit-faced that she was imagining it? She’d imagined him after all, back in that bar.
No. That bit of curtain. It was wrong.
‘She’s probably still up in the ballroom,’ said Bill. ‘We should go and find her. She’ll be wondering where the hell we are.’
‘Well, all she’s got to do is bloody answer my texts!’ grumbled Talia.
‘Wait,’ said Kate, rummaging in her bag. She extracted a skinny piece of metal. She glanced left and right and then inserted it into the lock on the chalet’s patio door.
‘What you doing?’ hissed Nikki. ‘I thought you were a copper an’ all — not a bloody burglar!’
Kate didn’t answer; she just concentrated. She’d got into a property more than once this way; it was preferable to smashing glass when you couldn’t get an answer. It wasn’t strictly legal, but it did no harm and it was always possible to claim the door hadn’t been completely closed. The lock gave without much manoeuvring, and Kate pulled the door aside.
‘Phew!’ Craig wafted the air in front of his face. ‘She’s gone insane and had fish and chips!’
The stink of chip fat was strong; it looked like Craig might be right. Maybe Julie wasn’t handy and bendy any more. Maybe she’d abandoned her healthy lifestyle and put on five stone since they’d last seen her. That might explain her reluctance to show up tonight.
The curtain in the door. No. No, there was a very strong sense of wrongness about this.
‘Julie?’ called Kate, tugging the curtain
