The Hollows(21)

‘Frankie?’

She stared at me, wide-eyed. I took hold of her shoulders.

‘Sweetheart.’

She blinked and came back to life. Pulled away from me.

‘What happened?’

Frankie pointed at the bed. The duvet was pulled back, the pillows on the floor.

‘Just look,’ she said.

I turned the light on and saw what had freaked her out.

There were ants in her bed, crawling across the sheets, caught in the folds at the end of the duvet. These weren’t the tiny black ants you get in England. They were a brownish-red colour and about half an inch long. And there were dozens of them, darting in all directions on the bed.

I turned back to Frankie. She was scratching herself and trembling. ‘It itches. I think they bit me. Oh God, they could be in my pyjamas.’ She was on the verge of sobbing, plucking at the fabric of her pyjama trousers and jogging on the spot, her knees pistoning up and down.

‘I think they’re carpenter ants,’ I said. I’ve always been a fan of nature documentaries. ‘It’s okay, they’re not poisonous.’

‘But it itches. I need a shower.’ She let out a shuddering breath. ‘I can feel them on me.’

‘Okay. Go and get in the shower. I’ll call maintenance.’

She ran from the room. Was I really going to call maintenance now? It was almost midnight. I decided the call could wait until morning.

I heard the shower come on, followed by a cry of dismay. ‘There’s no hot water.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I called through the bathroom door. ‘You’ll have to wait.’

But the water came back on and I guessed she’d decided to go ahead anyway, so desperate was she to wash away the sensation of the ants.

I went back to Frankie’s bedroom, bundled up the sheets and duvet and took them outside, dumping them on the deck. I went back inside. There were still a few ants on the floor of her room, scuttling towards the corners. I watched them vanish into the shadows.

Frankie came out in her robe, a towel wrapped around her hair. She was shivering, her teeth chattering.

I wished she was still little so I could help her, but I felt useless.

‘I hate it here,’ she said. ‘I wish we’d gone to New York.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do,’ she said between teeth chatters.

‘I thought you were . . .’ I stopped. This wasn’t the best time. She’d just been bitten by a load of ants in her bed. Of course she hated Hollow Falls right now. ‘Go on, go and get dry. Do you want me to make you a hot chocolate? I bought some earlier.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, sniffling.

She didn’t want to go back into her room in case there were still ants lurking in there, so I fetched a clean pair of PJs for her and she went into my bedroom to get dressed while I made her hot chocolate. I didn’t, of course, mention the face I thought I’d seen at the window. I had to tell myself that there was no connection between the two incidents. One of them hadn’t even been real.

I heated milk to make her drink. But a few minutes later she poked her head out of the bedroom. ‘I’m exhausted, Dad. I’m just going to go to sleep.’

‘Of course. You can have my bed.’

But she had already decided that.

I drank the hot chocolate myself then lay down on the couch. It was lumpy and too short. It took me a long time to get to sleep, and when I did I dreamt of a face at the window. A giant insect, tapping at the glass with its mandibles, trying to eat its way through like the window was made of sugar and I was the second course.





Chapter 10


Tuesday


After her dad called the office in the morning to complain about the ants, the grumpy woman from reception turned up. This was apparently the Vivian that weird Greg had gone to check in with about the flask. She went into Frankie’s room, got down on her hands and knees and said, ‘Yup, looks like you got yourselves some carpenter ants.’

Frankie’s dad said, ‘What are you going to do about it?’

Vivian got to her feet and dusted herself off. ‘We’ll put some powder down. Not much else we can do.’

‘You can’t move us to another cabin?’

Vivian seemed surprised, like this was a massive overreaction. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re completely full. They’re just ants, Mr Anderson. They won’t do you any harm.’

Frankie cringed. Her dad had folded his arms. He was this far away from asking to talk to her manager. ‘They bit my daughter.’

‘Oh shoot. That’s not nice.’ Vivian addressed Frankie directly. ‘I guess you must have scared them off.’

‘Can she get a new mattress?’

‘What? There’s no sense in that. They’re not living in there. They’ve all skedaddled.’

‘Has anyone else had an invasion of ants?’

This made Vivian chuckle. ‘Invasion? Not that I’ve heard of. But that’s one of the risks we all take when we vacation in nature. It’s like these folk that go camping, then get upset when a bear goes rifling through their stuff.’

Frankie’s dad had gone bright pink and she was gripped by the urge to laugh. Maybe Vivian was right. Now it was morning, Frankie could see they had overreacted. It was quickly turning into a funny story she could tell her friends when she got home. And then my bed was invaded by a swarm of killer ants . . .