Chapter 8
By the time I’m walking into the dining room, more than ready to sit down for dinner, I have almost forgotten that I have a face full of make-up, courtesy of Kitty. Almost, that is, until the boys see my face.
‘Shit, Nic, what happened?’ Dylan asks. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Erm, yes?’ I reply, although it sounds more like a question than a statement because I’m not sure what it is about the way I look that has him so freaked out. Perhaps Kitty stuck a knife in my back and I’m yet to notice for some reason.
‘Your face,’ he says simply.
‘Oh, Kitty did my make-up,’ I reply. ‘She’s training to be a make-up artist. What do you think?’
Dylan’s face drops.
‘Erm, yeah,’ he says, which is neither here nor there, but I can tell from his reaction that it must be bad.
‘It’s really nice,’ Mikey says with a tactful smile.
‘Striking,’ Trish adds – even she doesn’t look convinced by it.
I take a seat next to Dylan. As I scan the table, I notice that Jamie isn’t here yet, so I’m not the last person to arrive. The food is already out though, waiting patiently under sliver cloches in the middle of the table – a table that looks fit for royalty right now.
It’s a large dark wooden thing, with a red runner, and what looks like their best silverware – not that I would know good knives and forks from bad ones, but there’s something so ornate and fancy about these.
The room lights are dimmed in favour of old-fashioned candelabras that sit on the table. Flickering candlelight is always kind of creepy, and I haven’t felt at ease since we arrived here, so naturally it’s making everything seem even more spooky. But it’s silly, I know, because it’s just dinner. There’s nothing to be scared of.
Dylan prods me in the thigh with something under the table. I glance down and see that it’s his dessert spoon.
I stare at him for a second, puzzled, but somehow through a series of eyebrow movements I realise that he’s trying to tell me to look at my reflection in the back of the spoon.
I laugh to myself as I hold it up, taking in my new look – a new look given to me by a trainee make-up artist, no less.
Oh. My. God.
I mean, no one looks great in the back of a spoon, right? It stretches your face, throwing off your proportions like a funhouse mirror. What it doesn’t do, however, is give you thick black eyebrows that are so close together they’re almost merging, pale blue eyeshadow that hasn’t done the rounds since the millennium, and blusher that would make a clown, well, blush. Oh, and don’t get me started on the tarantula legs that have replaced my eyelashes.
Silly me, thinking that a trainee make-up artist would be a step up from me, a regular person with no training. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kitty had done a bad job on purpose, to make me look silly.
‘Are we ready to eat?’ Pat asks.
‘Jamie isn’t here yet,’ I point out.
‘Yeah, where is Jamie?’ Mikey enquires, his brow furrowed. ‘I haven’t seen him for hours.’
‘Do you know, I have no idea,’ Pat says. ‘I set him on with his chores, as I did the rest of you and, when I went back, poof, he had vanished.’
Pat says this with an eerie level of calmness, considering he just told us that our friend has vanished in a blizzard.
‘Dylan, doesn’t Nicole look pretty?’ Kitty says to him, changing the subject.
‘Yeah, really nice,’ Dylan says – an absolute lie – before turning his attention back to Pat.
Well, casually stating that our friend has vanished isn’t exactly something you just gloss over, is it?
‘Vanished?’ I blurt.
‘How long has he been missing?’ Mikey asks.
Mikey is definitely the responsible one – after myself, of course. I’m glad I’m not the only one concerned by this.
‘Oh, hours,’ Pat says. ‘But it was tiring work, that I gave him to do, so perhaps he’s asleep. I don’t imagine he’ll turn up for dinner. Come on, let’s tuck in.’
‘Yes, let’s not let the food go cold,’ Trish adds, taking to her feet, leaning over the large table to remove the cloches. ‘We thought, with you lot being our special guests, and having worked so hard today, that you deserved a special treat so, in your honour, we managed to rustle up some meat from somewhere.’
Her smile beams as she proudly uncovers the main event – the meat – all carved and ready to serve.
Dylan’s sharp intake of breath catches us all by surprise, as we all turn to look at him to see what’s wrong.
He looks white as a sheet as he stares over at the food in the centre of the table.
‘I know, impressive,’ Trish says, clearly misreading Dylan’s reaction. ‘I’ll be mother.’
Trish starts piling our plates high with meat, roasted vegetables and a healthy pouring of gravy. It smells delicious, but I can’t stop looking over at Dylan, trying to work out why he’s suddenly so freaked out.
‘Dig in,’ Pat announces as he eagerly grabs his cutlery.
‘We’re actually all vegetarians,’ Dylan blurts.
‘What?’ Trish replies. ‘You never said before?’
‘Did I not?’ Dylan replies. ‘Sorry, yeah, no, we don’t eat meat. None of us. We’re all vegetarians. Right guys?’
I cock my head curiously, unsure why we’re doing this, but he must have his reasons.
‘Yep, all vegetarians,’ I echo.
‘Well, that’s disappointing to hear, after all the effort we went to,’ Pat replies. ‘But I suppose you can just eat your vegetables.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Mikey replies, trying to be polite.
‘No! No we can’t,’ Dylan quickly adds.
‘We can’t?’ I say and, again, it sounds more like a question than an answer. ‘We can’t.’
‘It’s contaminated,’ Dylan says. ‘By the meat. But, listen, you guys enjoy your dinner, we’ll give you a bit of space, and then we’ll come back in for dessert, okay?’
‘You don’t have to leave,’ Kitty says. ‘Stay.’
‘That’s okay, have family time, we’ll go sit in the lounge,’ Dylan insists. ‘Shout us when dessert is ready.’
‘Well, okay,’ Trish says. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Great, thanks, see you in a bit,’ Dylan says as he heads for the door. ‘Come on guys.’
We take to our feet and follow Dylan into the hallway but, instead of going into the lounge, he heads for the bottom of the stairs.
‘We need to get out of here,’ he blurts, his skin still white as a ghost as he wipes his mouth with this hand. ‘My God, we really need to get out of here.’
‘What? Why?’ Mikey asks. ‘It seems like we won’t get picked up until morning.’
‘The snow is the least of our worries,’ Dylan replies. ‘It’s Jamie.’
‘Pat said he was probably asleep – that sounds like Jamie?’ I say.
‘Shit,’ Mikey says quietly. ‘Thinking about it, he’s not in there, I went in to get my socks off the radiator, there was no sign of him, but his clothes were in there, so he’s still in his workwear.’
‘No, he isn’t,’ Dylan says solemnly. ‘He’s in the dining room.’
‘No, Dill, he wasn’t there,’ I remind him. ‘Whatever booze you have stashed – God knows where – must be strong. He wasn’t in there with us, remember?’
‘Oh, he was,’ Dylan insists again. ‘I think we were eating him.’
I snort with laughter… until I realise he isn’t joking.
‘Dill…’
‘Think about it,’ he interrupts me. ‘One minute they’re talking about the meat shortage, next they’re giving Jamie a “special job” for a “big strong boy” or whatever. And then there’s that barn, the one with something inside it, that Pat was adamant we couldn’t see. Plus, think about it, Jamie definitely has the most meat on him. If you were going to eat one of us, it would be him.’
‘You’ve lost your mind,’ I tell him. ‘It’s weird, and alarming, that Jamie has vanished, but, come on, Dill, they’re weird farmers, they’re not cannibals or monsters.’
‘Have you seen your face?’ he asks me. ‘They’ve made you look like a monster. I’m telling you, none of this is normal. At first I thought I was being daft, then I thought dangerous spirits…’
‘The only dangerous spirit is the one you’re sipping when we’re not looking,’ I point out, trying to laugh it off.
‘I don’t think he’s right about us eating Jamie but I do think something is weird here,’ Mikey says. ‘Perhaps we should go out and look for him.’
‘Yeah, and I’m pretty sure Kitty is planning on cutting all my hair off, while I’m asleep, which I don’t fancy at all . We could head back to the bus?’ I suggest. ‘Maybe he went back for something, like a charger or…’
‘Or we were just about to eat him,’ Dylan says again.
‘Probably best we get him out of here anyway,’ Mikey says to me directly. ‘The press will have a field day, if he accuses these people of… I can’t even say it.’
‘Let’s go to our rooms, grab our things, have one last sweep for Jamie, and meet here, as quickly as we can,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe it’s best if we sneak out?’
‘I think so,’ Mikey adds.
‘Me too,’ Taz chimes in.
‘I know so,’ Dylan says. ‘I’ll stand guard here. Come on, hurry, we’ve only got until they’ve finished eating.’
‘Okay, let’s make it quick,’ I reply.
We all head off in our assigned directions, apart from Dylan, who has taken point at the door.
My heart pounds in my ears, as I run up the stairs, to Kitty’s room, to grab what few things I have here. I know it sounds silly, because I just left her in the dining room, but I’m half expecting her to be in her room when I get there, smiling manically before she pounces on me and shaves my head. Or perhaps that’s just the horror movie fan in me but, either way, cannibals or not, I cannot wait to get out of here.
Let’s just hope we all make it.