The Last Resort(36)

Lucy turns back to where the other three are gathered, and notices that James has a scratch on his cheek. It’s not bleeding heavily, but there is a trickle of blood snaking down his face. She pulls a wad of paper towels from the dispenser.

‘Here, let me help.’ She gestures at his face and he looks confused for a moment, then puts his hand up and inspects it.

‘I’m bleeding? I didn’t even realise.’ He takes the paper towels and dabs his face.

‘Hold it tight for a bit. I’ll get you something to rinse it with.’ Lucy turns to the small sink and finds a first aid kit under it. She takes out some antiseptic wipes and a couple of different-sized dressings.

Amelia and Tiggy are huddled together at the bar, talking in hushed voices.

Lucy hands the kit to Brenda. ‘Maybe look for something in there for Scott’s foot too.’

‘My foot is fine.’

‘No,’ James says, ‘you just think it’s fine because of the alcohol.’

‘I’ll get some more ice,’ Lucy says, taking the bucket off the bar. It’s still half full, but the ice dispenser is on the other side, nearer to Amelia and Tiggy. She wants to hear what they’re saying. She’s dying to know more about what really happened with Tiggy at that party, and given that Amelia couldn’t see it, she wonders what Tiggy has told her. Non-disclosure aside, she needs to get something juicy out of this trip. Revealing Tiggy’s secret would be gold dust, but given that Tiggy was the first one to mention that this could be a reality TV show, can they really trust her? Right now she’s crying again, and Amelia has handed her some napkins.

‘. . . I suppose it’s not impossible that these . . . scenes we’re all seeing could be fabricated,’ Amelia is saying.

‘And I’m telling you it was faked.’ Tiggy sniffs.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like I doubt you. Can you think why someone would want to make a fake . . . video, or whatever, of you like that?’

‘Well, if they released it as a video – and why couldn’t they? – yes, absolutely. There are lots of people who’d want to hurt me. People who are jealous of me and Giles. I think it’s all connected, you see. I . . .’ She pauses, blows her nose. ‘That’s what happened earlier. With Giles.’

‘There was a video of Giles?’ Amelia says.

Lucy is crouched down, fiddling with the ice dispenser. They know she’s there, but they’re too engrossed to care.

‘It was Giles and . . . this is so hard.’

‘Take your time, Tiggy. There’s no rush.’

Tiggy takes a deep breath. ‘It was Giles and two girls. It was . . . pretty graphic.’

Lucy should start scooping the ice, but she wants to hear this. If she’s here to get something to use in her column, she needs as much gossip as she can get.

‘I thought it was porn at first,’ Tiggy continues. ‘You know. For our little love nest.’ She tries to laugh. ‘I thought that whoever is doing this hasn’t done their research, because me and Giles . . . well, let’s just say we don’t need any help to get going.’

Lucy scoops the ice and throws it into the bucket. Lucky little bitch. She can’t remember the last time she had a decent sexual encounter where the other participant gave more than a passing glance at her bits before trying to ram himself in. Tiggy’s recall of Giles’s memory feed sounds completely legit, based on what she’s heard about him. And if that scene is real, then there’s a pretty good chance that Tiggy’s is too. The thought makes her feel sick. She stands up quickly, ready to speak, but she is instantly disarmed as Tiggy smiles at her.

‘Hey,’ she says. ‘I’d really love that coffee now.’

‘Coming right up.’ Lucy takes the ice bucket back to the other side of the bar. She wants to kick herself for distracting them just as Tiggy was getting to the good stuff.

‘The sun’s out again,’ Amelia says, climbing off the stool. ‘We’re going to sit on the loungers for a bit. Maybe someone could bring our drinks over?’

Lucy smiles sweetly. She’ll get more out of Tiggy if she’s nice to her.

‘Sure,’ James says. He has a gauze dressing on his cheek; the area around it is scrubbed clean. ‘I’ll bring them.’

Brenda closes the lid of the first aid box and tries to catch Lucy’s eye. We need to watch her, the look seems to say. Lucy agrees.

Because Lucy’s real mission here is to uncover someone’s big secret – which, if she achieves it, will not only land her a scoop (ever and always a goal) but conveniently overshadow whatever might yet be mined from her own dark past.





Amelia

‘How are you feeling now?’ Amelia asks Tiggy, after giving her a few moments to relax on the sunlounger.

Tiggy offers her a weak smile. ‘I’m OK. Thank you.’ She glances over at the bar, where the others are chatting and pretending not to look their way. ‘I’m glad you suggested we come over here. Everyone was being very kind, but, well . . . it’s all just a bit overwhelming. Everyone seeing that memory, in their heads. I can’t begin to understand how that works . . .’

‘Memory?’ Amelia frowns. ‘It wasn’t you though, was it? That’s what you said. Someone’s faked the scene, and they’ve managed to implant it in anyone who’s wearing one of those ear things. Just like the one of Giles at the visitor centre.’