Chapter 27
Blackwater Bay has a reputation. Whether you’re a believer or not, it’s a town that has really leaned into its haunted reputation.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, Marram Bay has its ghost stories.
Hope Abbey, on Hope Island – our tidal island – has been in ruins since the eighteenth century, and tourists flock there.
Apparently, there’s a secret tunnel network underneath the island, which the monks who lived in the abbey used to use as an escape route – God knows from what – back in the day.
Hope Abbey is often used as a wedding ceremony venue, or a spot where people go to propose – which is funny, because it isn’t haunted by a monk, like you’d probably guess, it’s supposedly haunted by a jilted bride.
Anyone who grew up here knows the tale of the woman who caught her groom kissing her younger sister on their wedding day.
To teach him a lesson, apparently she went down into the tunnels to hide, to make him think she had left him, see the error of his ways or something like that.
Instead, she got trapped and died down there, so now apparently her soul is trapped, and if she sees any happy couples she rises up and curses them or kills them or something.
I love spooky stuff as much as the next girl, but you will never convince me that story wasn’t concocted by parents trying to ensure their kids would be too scared to ever dare mess around in the tunnels, or that their teens would be too frightened to fornicate in the grounds after dark.
Otherwise, Marram Bay is a generally wholesome place.
Blackwater Bay, though, that’s the real deal, genuinely terrifying.
From the good (fountains where you can make wishes) to the bad (a stretch of windy road with an alarming fatality rate) to the ugly (some kind of terrifying creature people swear they’ve seen on the moors) – plus your usual witches, vampires and ghosts.
The place has everything. Naturally, going there in the same week as Halloween feels terrifying – thrilling too though.
Especially because it’s my first time going to their relatively new Scareground.
It’s in a field, behind a garden centre, which admittedly doesn’t sound scary, but I googled it on the way here and apparently people are having to be carried out of their haunted barn.
‘I can’t believe this is your first time,’ Adam says. ‘Call yourself a local.’
‘Well, I haven’t been a local, not for a while,’ I remind him. ‘I might have come back sooner, had I known I could pay a stranger to chase me through mud with a chainsaw.’
He laughs.
‘The more I think about it, the more I think this might actually be too scary for me,’ I think out loud.
‘Ahh, come on, I thought you were a brave girl,’ he says. ‘And don’t worry, if you’re scared, you can hold my hand.’
‘Okay, fine, but I can’t believe you’re bullying me into this,’ I say with a laugh.
Now that I think about it, he’s not bullying me into it at all; he’s flirting me into it.
We finally arrive where it’s set up, in a huge muddy field, with temporary fencing around the outside and strings of eerily flickering bulbs hanging over the entrance.
There’s a giant wooden sign that says Blackwater Scareground, which looks like it’s been painted in blood.
There’s a man in a filthy clown costume standing by the gate, staring at people as they arrive.
At least, I think it’s a man; maybe it’s a statue.
Bloody hell, I’m scared to walk past him now.
There’s a rickety-looking big wheel turning slowly against the dark sky, a row of food vans selling ‘maggot-filled’ hot chocolate and bloody burgers, a zombie hook-a-duck stall, and a carousel made up of the most cursed horses I’ve ever seen.
‘This is amazing,’ Adam blurts, like a kid at Christmas.
‘This is how people die,’ I reply.
Again, he laughs at me.
Adam is wearing black jeans, boots and a dark jacket, which makes him blend right in. I, on the other hand, am wearing a bright red jumper which, now that I think about it, is like having a target on my back. In the dark corners, I’ll be the brightest thing for the masked monsters to prey on.
‘So,’ Adam says, ‘what’s your strategy?’
‘For what?’
‘The maze.’
‘No one said anything about a maze – have you seen The Shining?’ I reply.
‘That’s the whole point,’ he replies. ‘Would you prefer the haunted mine or the doll house?’
Suddenly, the maze doesn’t sound so bad.
‘Come here,’ he says, presumably laughing at the look on my face. He takes me by the hand.
Okay, now I really am terrified, not by the maze, or the monsters, but by how good it feels to have my hand in his.
His fingers close around mine, warm and steady, making the butterflies (or I guess bats might be more appropriate) in my stomach go berserk.
Naturally the first place we go to is the maze, my logic being, if I can survive that, I can do anything.
We step inside, and immediately the noise of the funfair drops away behind us. The path is narrow, hemmed in by tall walls of dried corn and black netting, with low orange lights marking the various routes. Somewhere ahead, a woman screams.
I stop walking. Adam stops too.
‘That was probably fake,’ he says. ‘To scare us – not someone being terrified.’
‘Probably?’
‘Almost definitely,’ he says, a little more firmly.
‘Oh, well, that’s reassuring,’ I say sarcastically.
‘Do you want me to lie?’ he asks with a chuckle.
‘Yes.’
‘That was definitely fake.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply. ‘Was that so hard?’
We keep walking and for the first minute or two, nothing happens.
It’s just us, the rustle of the corn, the squelch of mud under our shoes, and the distant rumble of fairground music.
I’m finally starting to relax, thinking this isn’t that bad, which is obviously when something lunges out from the side wearing a sack over its head.
I scream, and it’s not a cute scream. Not a flirty little gasp. A full-body, blood-curdling scream. And then I pretty much throw myself into Adam’s arms, like we’re Shaggy and Scooby-Doo.
The sack-headed man disappears back into the corn, presumably to ruin someone else’s night, satisfied that his work is done here.
Adam turns to face me, unable to suppress a laugh, but I think it scared him too.
‘You okay?’ he asks.
‘Oh, fine, fine,’ I say sarcastically.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here, the carousel might be more our style,’ he replies.
We continue, me clinging to Adam, my arms pretty much wrapped around his body as he drags me along.
Every few corners, someone jumps out. A blood-soaked lumberjack.
A girl with long black hair over her face.
A man crawling upside down on all fours – the worst of the bunch, even though I could probably kick him over.
Then we reach a section full of mirrors. I see my own reflection and scream again.
Adam laughs. I swear, it tightens my grip on him beyond what I thought possible.
‘Aww, no, Lia, do you want to go?’ he checks. ‘It does actually seem much scarier this year.’
Do I want to go? No, not really, because as scared as I am, being here with him, just the two of us, up close and personal like this… I’m really enjoying it.
‘No,’ I say immediately. ‘I’m having fun, really, it’s just my face that missed the memo.’
‘Okay,’ he says with a laugh. ‘But maybe we’ll take a hot chocolate break after this. They have little pumpkin pods to get cosy in.’
Now that sounds more my style.
Something bangs loudly behind us and I shriek again, throwing myself into Adam’s chest. His arms come around me automatically, steadying me.
For a second, I forget where we are. His body is warm against mine. His hand is on my back. My face is pressed into his jacket and he smells like aftershave, cold air and hot chocolate.
Yep, this is definitely the scariest part all right. It’s being here, with him, knowing how much I like him, but how incredibly inconvenient that’s going to be.