Final Cut(91)

But she’s right. He began sharing me. It started with his dealer, or the guy he said was his dealer anyway. He said he couldn’t pay, he didn’t have enough money.

‘But there’s another way,’ he said. ‘You owe me, after all.’ And even though I said no, my resistance didn’t last long. By then I was desperate. By then I was squirming on the hook and would’ve done anything.

‘Anything?’ says Daisy, and it’s as if she can hear my thoughts. ‘Even get your best friend involved? Deliver her to them? Get her hooked, too? First on love, then on drugs.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘No.’ But even as I do, I can see it: it’s true.

‘Then, when she threatened to talk, they had you kill her.’

‘But I didn’t,’ I sob. ‘You’re not dead. Daisy, you’re not dead.’

‘No,’ she says. ‘That’s right. I’m not. But she is.’

‘Who? Who’s dead?’

‘You know who.’ She pauses, and part of me knows what’s coming.

The truth cleaves me in two. No, I say. No. It’s not possible, I can’t work it out. I see us both, in the cellar. I have the camera; my friend is tied up, she’s on her knees. I brought her here, told her there was someone who wanted to meet her. I promised her fun, said we could try something, told her my boyfriend had sorted us out and it’d be the best yet, even better than last time, all we had to do was let it take us away.

‘I didn’t know what they had planned. I swear it.’

‘But you still went through with it.’

I remember putting the camera down. She looked up at me; there was snot running from her nose. Don’t, she said. Don’t hurt me.

She was kneeling on the floor, begging for help. Help I couldn’t give her, because I was part of this now.

I have to, I replied, sobbing.

Bryan’s voice cut in, then. Do it, he said. If you don’t do it, we will, and blame you anyway. So you might as well.

And so I did. I stepped towards her, the belt limp in my hand. I wondered what he wanted the film for, whether it was just to keep me in line, or if he’d found someone willing to pay for it. I didn’t know. But still I did it. I wrapped the belt around my best friend’s neck. And then— No!

‘You get it now?’ says Daisy, but as she does some kind of door opens further up the tunnel and the cave is lit with a flash. I react without thinking, shutting my dark-adapted eyes against the searing light, but it’s no good. I force them open and look around for my friend, but there’s no one there. There never was. It’s as if someone has pulled the plug and whatever remained of me has run through the sluice.

I see everything in minute detail, high resolution. I stare at the walls of the cave – the damp, dripping walls that curve upwards towards the source of the dazzling light, the chisel marks where it’s been widened to make the tunnel more passable.

I feel weightless, more alive than I’ve felt in years. But the momentary, blissful vacuum implodes. It was me speaking; her voice was in my head. Daisy is alive, here with me now, like she was at Hope Cottage, like she was down in London, like she was when I ran away. Like she has been all along.

Because Daisy isn’t dead. She’s me.





Then





53


The bed is cold, the sheets heavy. David has central heating, but he doesn’t turn it on. He’s left a fan-heater in the corner of the room, but it blows feebly and smells of burning hair.

So I lie here and shiver. I’m worthless, anyway.

He knocks on the door. ‘Daisy?’

Don’t call me that, I think. Anything else. But not that.

‘Can I come in?’

Tonight is the night. It’s nearly time. The tide is right. It was my plan all along, but now we’re here I’m not so sure.

‘Daisy? Are you okay? I’ve made you some soup.’

I sit up. It’s true that I’m hungry. And I’ll need all the strength I can get.

I know I have to escape; I can’t stay here. My plan started forming as soon as they returned from burying Sadie on the moors. Bryan has told me that he owns me now, that unless I do as I’m told he’ll send the film of me killing Sadie to the police. And I know he would, too. Then it’ll all be over. The fact that I hate myself already will make no difference, and neither will the fact that they made me do it, that I had no choice. Not felt I had no choice, actually had no choice. Sadie had started fighting back, had threatened to tell, so Bryan decided. He had to teach her a lesson, and if I refused to help, then he’d have to teach me one, too.

Maybe it would’ve been better that way, I think now. Then at least I wouldn’t have to live with myself, with what I’ve done.

The plan is my idea, then, but now it comes to it, I’m terrified. It’s not just the jump I’m dreading, the plunge into icy water, the swim back to the cave and into the tunnel. Even if it works, even if I get away and no one comes after me because everyone in this place thinks I’m dead, I still won’t have escaped. I’ll have the drugs to kick. I’ll need help, and I don’t know how to get it. Things will get worse before they get better; the only question is by how much.

Maybe I should stay here and die. Maybe it’s what I deserve.