The Last Resort(69)
A drop of blood pops and glistens on George’s thumb.
‘Give me your hand.’
Mesmerised, she complies. The pain is quick and hot. Just a sting, then it’s done. George takes hold of her thumb and presses it hard.
‘We’re blood now, Anne. You can’t let me down. Promise?’
She nods. ‘I promise.’
Tiggy
Tiggy feels sick. She opens her eyes, expecting to see the dressing table and stool in her room, and is surprised to find that they’re not there. Also, the pink flocked wallpaper has been replaced with green and gold, with what looks like deer printed on it.
She pulls herself up to a sitting position, and the room spins and tilts for a moment before settling down. She’s on a chaise longue that she doesn’t remember seeing before, and she’s wearing a long, floaty lemon dress that she definitely did not put on by herself. As her eyes swim back into focus, she takes in the rest of the room. Another similar chaise opposite, plus a selection of mismatched but all equally period armchairs, wing-backed chairs and a couple of footstools. Everything is upholstered in clashing, gaudy fabrics. The curtains are green, to match the wallpaper, and the carpet is a shimmering gold weave. The room is lit by orange glass wall lamps, and at the far end are folding partition doors.
Through the gap in the partition, she can make out the silhouettes of several people moving around.
They’re here!
She blinks herself awake and jumps up. Then holds on to the end of the chaise to steady herself. She’ll be OK in a minute. She must have slept too long. She has a vague recollection of leaving her bedroom to walk downstairs, but there’s a black hole between then and getting changed and ending up asleep down here. There’s an empty champagne flute on the small table next to where she was lying. That would explain it, if she’d had a few on an empty stomach. As if reading her mind, her stomach growls. She walks towards the partition and catches the scent of something delicious wafting through.
This might make the wasted day worth it then, she hopes. Especially once she’s seen Giles.
But where is Giles?
Her head is fuzzy, and fragments of the last few hours are missing. She remembers that she and Giles had an argument. And she remembers being on the boat, and him not waking up. But he must be awake now, if the others are back and the food is being served?
The gap in the partition is narrow, but she’s small, so she slips through without having to open it further. The first thing she notices when she enters the room is that everyone is on their own, doing their own thing. Have they fallen out with each other since she left them behind in the bay? Or are they just enjoying a bit of space?
She surveys the room, taking them all in. Lucy is wearing a navy velvet cocktail dress and very high heels. Her hair is pinned up, with small diamanté studs peppered throughout. When Tiggy’s heels clip-clop on the tiled floor of the dining room, Lucy turns round. She’s holding a champagne flute and her eyes are slightly glazed.
‘Tiggy! Oh my God, I am so glad to see you!’ She rushes forward, stumbling slightly in her shoes, and throws her arms around Tiggy. She smells of coconut and an expensive, heady perfume.
Tiggy pulls back, slightly bemused by her over-the-top display of affection, and Lucy senses it and laughs. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a few of these. They brought a bottle up to my room, and two women with a load of fancy clothes to dress me. I felt like an eighteenth-century queen. Or a drag queen, more likely.’ She laughs again.
The others hear the voices and laughter and come trickling over from their various positions.
Scott and James are both dressed in perfectly cut tuxedos, their hair neatly styled. They each lean in to kiss her; they smell of orange and sandalwood.
‘Tiggy,’ Scott says, touching her arm. ‘You look sensational.’
‘How are you?’ James says. ‘I bet you’ve been in the lap of luxury while we’ve been sheltering in a cave and staggering here in the pitch-dark.’
‘A cave?’ she says. ‘Well, I’m glad I missed that. I’m not keen on small dark spaces.’
‘Hello, Tiggy.’ Amelia doesn’t kiss her. It was obvious early on that she wasn’t the kissing type. She looks lovely though, in a purple off-the-shoulder ball gown, her dark hair swept up to the side, adorned with a simple silver leaf-shaped clip. Her eyes scan the space around Tiggy. ‘Where’s Giles?’ she says. ‘Is he going to make it to dinner? Harvey told us it was going to be quite special, and that we’d be rewarded for our treacherous day.’ She looks at the others. ‘I don’t know how you all feel, but I almost feel like today was just a bad dream . . . and that this’ – she raises her palms, gesturing to the room – ‘is what this trip was really about.’
‘Totally agree,’ James says. ‘It might be the champagne they brought up to the room, but I can hardly even remember all the drama from earlier.’
‘And my ankle doesn’t hurt a bit, but I know I did something to it.’ Scott holds out his foot, turns it from one side to the other. ‘I couldn’t have done this a few hours ago. I tried my best not to put weight on it, but it hurt like hell most of the day. Even more so when Amelia knocked me over in the hallway.’
‘I said I was sorry,’ Amelia says, her cheeks flushing.
Tiggy has no idea what’s gone on since she left in the boat with Giles, but they are all acting very strangely. All day, they’d been questioning the ‘game’ and everything that was going on. Bickering with each other, trying to decide who to trust – and now they’re all washed and changed and sipping champagne as if none of it even happened.