The Last Resort(74)

He frowns. ‘I do eat. Of course I eat. I just . . . I’m just not really comfortable eating this food.’

‘What? You reckon they’re going to poison us now?’ Lucy puts the tub back on the table. She touches another, but then seemingly changes her mind. Reaches for a handful of nuts instead. Tiggy pulls the tub closer and takes another cheese stick – she’s past caring about the consequences. Meanwhile, the waitress has been over and silently filled up all their glasses.

‘Could I have a bottle of Coke?’ James says. A few moments later, a waiter returns with a bottle and an opener. He opens it in front of James, then disappears without a word.

‘I suppose it’s your feed next, Amelia?’ Tiggy says. ‘They must have something on you, mustn’t they?’ Her head is a little fuzzy again; she’s lost count of how many top-ups she’s had.

‘I suppose so. I—’

Whatever she was going to say is cut off when Lucy starts coughing. It starts with a small, throat-clearing cough, before getting harsher. Louder. She thumps herself on the chest. Her face is bright red and she’s almost barking now, trying to dislodge something from her throat. Tiggy tries to stand up to help but falls back to her seat, too dizzy to manage it.

‘Jesus Christ,’ James says, jumping out of his seat and rushing around to Lucy. He pulls her up and bends her over, then knocks her hard on the back.

Nothing happens.

She keeps coughing, even harder. A high-pitched whine is coming from her lungs. Her eyes are wide with fear. Tiggy wants to help, but as she makes to stand up again she falls back once more. And then she starts to cough. Just a little at first. She grabs her glass, but it’s empty.

‘Here, take this.’ Amelia grabs James’s bottle of Coke and slides it down the table to her.

Tiggy seizes it and tries to drink, but as soon as it hits the back of her throat she gags, chokes – sprays the drink all over herself.

Lucy is still coughing hard, her face red, her eyes bulging. James looks around with terrified eyes. ‘Amelia? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s happening!’

‘Tiggy.’ Amelia turns to her and sees that she is struggling too. ‘Oh God, I—’

Tiggy is still coughing, but it’s not as bad as Lucy – more like a coughing fit when you have a cold, whereas Lucy seems to be actually choking. ‘Help us,’ she manages, although it comes out as a squeak.

There’s a beep and the screen appears. Blank. Just laughing.

‘Scott?’ James whirls round, leaving Lucy bent over the chair, trying to grip on to the sides. ‘Oh no . . . oh no . . .’

Tiggy manages to stand, holding on to the chair. She sees Scott, his head slumped onto the table. His body is convulsing, and a pool of lumpy white vomit is growing out from his mouth like a mushroom cloud.

Lucy stops coughing at last. Tiggy’s cough is still ongoing, but it’s merely irritating now, like hiccups. Lucy is still bent over the chair. Tiggy puts a hand on her back, rubbing it gently. ‘It’s OK,’ she says. ‘You’re OK.’

But she knows that’s not true.

It’s clear that Lucy is dead, as is Scott. They’d both eaten several things from the table. Amelia and James have had none.

Tiggy has eaten plenty. It’s only a matter of time before her body gives in and she chokes to death too.

Across the table, close to Scott’s outstretched hand, is the stem of the champagne flute he smashed earlier. It doesn’t take her long to decide. Mummy’s voice is inside her head: ‘Take control, darling. Never forget that.’

She turns to Amelia and James. ‘You two need to get the hell out of here.’ She picks up the broken stem.

‘No!’ James shouts, launching himself at her. She’s looking him in the eye, defiant as she thrusts the weapon into her own neck.

She barely feels it. Her head swims further away, and in the background there’s a beep, followed by laughter.





Amelia

‘No!’ Amelia lunges at Tiggy an instant behind James, but they’re too late.

Tiggy’s head falls back, blood spurting from the sides of the wound. Her eyes bulge with shock for a moment, and there’s a horrible gurgling sound as her blood pumps out profusely.

‘We need to do something,’ James says. He reaches for the stem. ‘We can stop the blood.’

Amelia grabs his wrist. ‘No . . . don’t pull it out. You’ll only make it worse.’ She falls to her knees. Takes hold of Tiggy’s limp hand, squeezes it, feels Tiggy’s fingers gently squeezing back. There’s another choking gurgle, and she looks up at Tiggy’s face as it falls slack. The light in her eyes dulls, and her grip falls away.

‘Oh no. Oh no.’ Amelia drops her head into her hands. She feels a palm on her shoulder and looks up to see James. He takes her elbow and helps support her as she stands, then he leads her away from the table. She glances back, watching the staff who have already come over to tend to the wounded.

Wounded? That’s a joke.

She turns away, lets James lead her into the other room, with the sofas and the clashing furnishings. ‘They’re all dead, aren’t they?’ she says quietly. She starts to shake. Despite the horror of it all, she feels distant – as if it’s happening to someone else. Her mind taking her away from it, trying to protect her.