The Hollows(41)

‘I think the Hollows are getting to you, Tom. You and Frankie. They do that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just . . . You’ll probably think this is mumbo jumbo, but there are people who think the woods have some kind of . . . power. An influence.’

‘An influence?’

She sighed. ‘Yeah, I know, it sounds like crazy-person talk, but . . . Okay, yes. I’ve always thought that. The woods make people do and see odd things. Make them act in ways they would never usually.’

Her words just hung there between us while we stared at each other for a long moment.

‘The woods make people do things,’ I said at last. ‘Like . . . Everett Miller?’

‘Yeah. I guess.’ She picked up her cigarette packet and I thought she was going to light up again, but she placed it back on the table. ‘Listen, the Hollows are old. Not as old as the ancient forest further north, close to Eagle Lake, but old. And even if you don’t believe in all that supernatural stuff, you can’t deny the power places like this have over our imagination, if nothing else. We all have images from fairy tales and horror movies in our heads. Add shadows and moonlight and teenage hormones, and suddenly your imagination is on steroids.’

‘What about me? It’s been a long time since I had teenage hormones.’

‘Yeah. But you’ve got other stuff going on. You’re grieving.’

I couldn’t speak for a second. ‘Grieving? I’m not—’

‘Oh, but you are. I don’t know your situation, Tom. I don’t know where Frankie’s mom is—’

‘She’s in Albany.’

‘There are all kinds of grief,’ she said. ‘And I recognise it when I see it.’

I stared at her. I felt like she’d ripped me open and peered inside. I tried to formulate a response, a riposte, but she was right. I was such a stranger to myself that the realisation came as a shock. I was grieving. And maybe now would be a good time to talk about it, to tell this almost-stranger all about it. I wanted to invite her inside and, maybe I was mistaken, but it seemed like she wanted me to invite her in too. Despite the chill in the air and the topics we’d been discussing, there was a tension between us. A connection. She made me feel seen. She knew me. I wanted to know her too.

‘I’d better get back,’ she said suddenly. ‘See if Cujo has come home. I’m worried about him.’

I tried to keep the disappointment off my face. ‘Of course.’

We both stood at the same time. I felt awkward, unsure what to say. Then she gave me a quick hug and ran down the steps off the deck.

‘Hey,’ I called, but she didn’t turn back. Within moments, she was swallowed by shadows.





Chapter 21


Wednesday


Frankie didn’t wake up until eleven the next morning. It was frustrating. I was desperate to find out more about what had happened the night before, why she’d been alone in the woods, but I also wanted to let her sleep. I had already been over to the Butlers’ cabin to talk to Ryan but they weren’t there and their rental car wasn’t in its spot. They must have got up and gone out early, left the resort.

When Frankie finally emerged I made her breakfast and poured her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

‘Are you feeling any better?’ I asked in a gentle voice.

‘I think so.’

She certainly had an appetite. She tore into the food I’d laid out for her. And while she ate, she told me everything that had happened.

Walking into Penance. Meeting the twins, Buddy and Darlene. Ryan’s Instagram post in which he called Penance a shithole. That my ridiculous worry that she and Ryan were an item was dumb because, duh, Ryan was gay and she wasn’t interested in boys anyway because they were all idiots. Back to Instagram and the angry, threatening messages she’d received. Because she’d lost her phone she was only able to give me a summary of what they said, and I suspected they were even worse than she told me.

She went on to explain her conviction that the dead rabbit, the shots fired during the horse ride, maybe even the ants in her bed, were an attempt at revenge. Finally, she told me how they had gone back into town intending to apologise. Met a couple of weird little kids. The argument with Ryan.

I was stunned. All this had been going on without me being aware of it? I’d heard many people say over the years that you never really know what’s going on in your kids’ lives, especially once they’re teenagers, and with the Atlantic Ocean separating us that was true on a basic, everyday level. But this was the first time I had become aware of it happening right under my nose.

I couldn’t help it. I lost my temper.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

‘I was embarrassed.’

‘I’m not surprised! You can’t go around slagging off where people live. I’m not surprised you pissed them off.’

‘It wasn’t me!’

‘No, but you went along with it. And then the two of you went sneaking around, trying to put it right. Putting yourselves in danger. I’m shocked, Frankie. I thought you were sensible. You keep telling me that you’re not a little kid any more and then you go and do this . . .’

I was on my feet, pacing around the table. At the back of my head, a voice was telling me to calm down, to stop yelling at her. I knew this explosion was partly caused by my own tension. But I was angry with her too. It had been stupid. And it played on something I had long worried about. We give kids access to these new online tools, like Instagram, but they don’t always have the emotional maturity to use them. I had thought Frankie was mature enough. I didn’t even know she’d managed to get online.