Chapter 7
Sadie goes to sleep pissed off.
She tosses and turns, dreaming about a giant armadillo walking across the pool, actually walking on the water, holding a huge bunch of brightly coloured balloons.
She can’t move or shout out because, if she does, the spell will break and he’ll fall in.
The armadillo reaches up and pulls its furry head off and, inside the costume, it’s Grandma, her face a decaying death mask, white bone poking through ruined skin, teeth like yellowed fangs.
Her black lips stretch in a grotesque grin: ‘Once you’re here, you’re here to stay! ’
She starts awake. Grandma and armadillo melt away into the ether. Sunshine streams through the curtains. Outside she can hear birds singing, and the smell of bacon is drifting up from downstairs.
She is still pissed off.
But maybe not quite so pissed off as last night. She probably shouldn’t have shouted at Dad like that. None of this is his fault. He’s trying his best. Like he always does. And now she feels guilty.
‘Urgh.’
She sits up in bed. A giant king-size, way bigger than her bed back home, which was only a measly single.
But then, everything here is bigger, brasher.
A tiny part of her has to admit that the bed is super comfortable and the bedroom – if it was painted a different colour and she got rid of the stupid billowing drapes around the four poster – could be kind of nice.
Still doesn’t make up for a dead guy in the swimming pool, though.
Although at least you have a swimming pool, a small voice chides. I mean, First World problems.
She checks her phone for the time: 8.25 a.m. She’s surprised. She thought she’d wake up earlier, what with the jet lag and time difference, but aside from stirring briefly around 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. and some weird dreams, she’s slept through.
She swings her legs out of bed. Above her, the giant wooden ceiling fan stirs the air around.
There’s aircon, too, which has kept the room at a pleasant twenty-one degrees.
Her bedroom back home (or what used to be home) was always too stuffy in summer or freezing cold in winter, even with the cranky old iron radiator turned up to full.
It crosses her mind again that this isn’t a temporary luxury.
Not like staying in a fancy hotel (not that they’ve ever stayed in fancy hotels). But this, this is their life now.
Dead body in pool.
Cool ceiling fan.
Pros and cons, right?
Yawning, Sadie walks across the shiny wooden floor to the large window and pulls open the blind.
For a moment, the sunlight dazzles her. She blinks, used to pulling curtains on to rain and grey skies.
The view is a little different too. Their old house looked straight across the narrow street into the windows of the house opposite.
A St George’s flag was usually hung outside, and the occupants didn’t always pull their blinds, so on one memorable occasion she had been treated to the sight of their pot-bellied, hairy-backed neighbour pleasuring himself while leaning casually against the window frame and smoking a cigarette. Gross.
No treats like that here. Opposite, Home and Spry glows in the morning sunshine. The sprinklers are active again, keeping the lawn verdant. No movement behind the curtains, though. Maybe Dale and Nancy are having a lie-in, or perhaps they’re already out walking Ruffles.
The street is a little busier this morning.
She spots a fit-looking woman in micro shorts and a cropped top jogging down the opposite side with a small white dog on a leash.
In the other direction, a trad mom in white jeans and a strappy top leads a small, blonde-haired girl and boy by the hands.
The little girl clutches a bright pink balloon.
Sadie stares at her, the nightmare suddenly surging back into her head.
Grandma smiling a cadaverous grin, holding that damn armadillo head and a bunch of balloons.
Like some hideous Donnie Darko and Pennywise mash-up.
She turns quickly from the window, a shiver rippling through her. She rubs her arms. She’s only wearing a vest and knickers. She should get dressed.
She surveys her suitcase, hastily flung open last night to grab her toiletries.
Her clothes are still rolled up inside. She’s not quite sure why she brought so many warm clothes.
Jeans and sweatshirts, hoodies. She kneels and rummages through, throwing stuff to one side and finally dragging out a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt. She slips them on.
The box with Zelda inside is tucked beneath the bed. Sadie slides it out and opens it. Zelda’s tiny white bones gleam (Sadie cleaned her thoroughly before their journey). Her skull is smooth and elegant, mouth open in a snarl, revealing those sharp feline teeth.
In life, Zelda wasn’t a pretty cat. A rescue, her auburn fur always looked a little patchy. Her tail had been broken, so it was amputated halfway down and the stub never grew fur. One eye was blind and cloudy.
Her mum had chosen Zelda. Dad said that Mum always picked the broken ones, and Mum would always tell him: ‘They’re the ones that need rescuing most. Why d’you think I picked you?’
Of course, as it turned out, maybe her mum was the broken one, after all.
She was right about Zelda though. The imperfections were the things that Sadie loved about Zelda.
She had character and a purr that rumbled right through you.
Zelda wasn’t standoffish or cold like a lot of cats.
She liked to be cuddled and fussed, and Sadie never once saw her try to chase or trap a bird or small animal.
Death has turned her back into a hunter, Sadie thinks. Fierce and beautiful. She swallows down a lump in her throat, then kisses Zelda’s skull, which still smells faintly of the earth, closes the lid on the box and pads downstairs.
She finds Dad in the kitchen, cooking. She stares at him in shock.
Dad is a terrible cook. He manages dinner as long as it’s pasta, stir fry, chicken or anything else that can be heated with minimal effort.
He often jokes that Pot Noodles are his speciality.
Dad never cooks breakfast. Dad’s idea of breakfast is a black coffee and the occasional sneaky cigarette outside the back door which they both pretend she doesn’t know about.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks.
Dad turns from the grill, where he is placing the waffles. Actual waffles. What the fuck? Bacon is cooling on another grill, and in a bowl is what looks suspiciously like fruit.
He grins, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Well, I thought I’d start the day with a traditional American breakfast.’
‘Ah.’ She nods and folds her arms. ‘I see.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah. You’re overcompensating.’
‘No, I’m …’ His shoulders sag. ‘Okay. Yeah. I’m overcompensating. I don’t even like fucking waffles.’
Sadie pulls out a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘Me neither. But I’ll take some bacon.’
Dad serves some bacon on to a plate and puts it in front of her.
‘Ketchup?’
He shakes his head. ‘Syrup.’
‘Yuck.’
‘Yeah.’
He plonks a glass of orange juice next to the bacon and then takes the seat opposite. He has a cup of black coffee in front of him, and from the faint smell of smoke, he’s already had breakfast.
‘So?’ She pops a piece of bacon into her mouth. It’s actually pretty good. ‘What are our plans for today?’
‘Ah.’
She stares at him. ‘I know that “Ah”. That’s a bad “Ah”.’
‘Okay. I meant to tell you last night but, you know—’
‘Go on.’
‘Principal Lockhart is coming round at eleven thirty with his daughter, Ellis.’
Sadie pulls a face. ‘Why?’
‘Lockhart wants to give me a guided tour of Serenity.’
‘And, what? I’m supposed to go on a play date with his daughter?’
His pained face answers the question.
‘For fuck’s—’
‘Then he’s offered to take us to lunch at the Serenity Falls Hotel.’
‘Whoop!’
‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a way to get out of it.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. I’ll cope.’
She shoves more bacon into her mouth and takes a sip of juice.
Dad glances at his phone. His face looks strained.
‘What?’
He quickly puts the phone down. ‘Nothing. Just, I think there’s a glitch with the security cameras.’
‘Oh. Want me to look at the app?’
‘No, I’ll sort it.’
‘You and tech? Really? Hand it over.’
She reaches for the phone, but he snatches it away. ‘I said I’ll sort it.’
Sadie flinches. Dad rarely raises his voice. Even in school, he had a rep for being laid-back, casual even, in his teaching. That’s why what happened was so out of character. But she doesn’t want to go there again.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, almost immediately. ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’
‘’S’okay.’
‘No, it’s not. I’m just a bit tired.’
‘Don’t tell me – you didn’t sleep.’
‘Actually, I think I did.’
Sadie stares at him in shock. ‘Whoah – that’s a first.’
Dad has always suffered from insomnia, for as long as she can remember.
‘I know.’ He shakes his head. ‘Maybe that’s why I feel off this morning.’
‘Your body’s probably in shock.’
‘Yeah.’ He chuckles.
‘Anyway, you want to wrestle with the tech on your own, be my guest.’
‘Thanks.’ A pause. ‘Look, I know this has been a lot … and that’s even before that kid decided to take a dive in our pool. But—’
‘It was a freak accident. I get it.’
‘Can we try to move past it?’
‘Sure.’
‘And five years seems a long time. I know that too. But maybe there’s some wiggle room.’ A rueful smile. ‘And once you’re eighteen you can do what you like. Move out. Move back to the UK.’
‘You trying to get rid of me?’
‘For years, but no takers.’
She grins. ‘I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.’
‘True.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ she says. ‘About last night.’
‘Forget it. Last night was last night. Today is a fresh start. No more dead bodies or any more weirdness … and that is a sentence I never expected to say.’
And talking about weirdness has just reminded Sadie about the old woman handing out leaflets for the missing kid. ‘Remember – if you see Davey, you let me know.’
‘There was one thing,’ she starts … but she’s cut off by a sudden heavy thudding on the glass doors. She jumps. Dad’s head shoots round.
A large black guy with dreadlocks stands outside. He wears shorts and a purple polo shirt emblazoned with the company name: Jules’ Pools. He’s holding some kind of pump contraption and has a large length of thick hose wrapped around one sturdy bicep.
Jules (if that’s who he is) grins and waves through the glass. ‘Hey there!’
Dad raises his eyebrows at Sadie, then stands and pulls the doors open. ‘Hi.’
Jules holds out a meaty hand. ‘Here to clean your pool.’
Dad shakes it. ‘Thanks for being so prompt.’
‘At Jules’ Pools we pride ourselves on our prompt and efficient service, sir.’
‘Err – how did you get in here, by the way?’
‘Oh—’ Jules glances over his shoulder. ‘I just let myself in through the back gate. Hope that’s okay? Often folk just want me to get on with it.’
‘Err, yeah. To be honest, I didn’t know we had a back gate.’
Jules chuckles. ‘Oh yeah. You might want to latch that if you don’t want just anyone walking in.’
Dad smiles politely. ‘You’re right. I’ll do that.’
Jules’s face grows more sombre. ‘I heard someone drowned.’
‘Yes.’
Jules shakes his head. ‘That’s tough. Ain’t had nothing like that for years.’ He waves a hand. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll give it a thorough going-over.’
‘That’s good to hear. You want a drink or anything while you get set up?’
‘Man, I would love an iced coffee. Milk. Two sugars.’
‘O-kay.’
Jules turns away and starts unwinding his long hose. Dad looks at her and mouths, ‘Iced coffee?’ with a helpless shrug.
Sadie rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll make it,’ she says.
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, you can load the dishwasher.’
While Dad starts grabbing plates, Sadie sets about making Jules his coffee. ‘Y’know, iced coffee is literally like normal coffee with ice in it,’ she tells him.
He pulls a face. ‘Coffee is hot. It’s meant to be drunk just shy of scalding. On this hill I shall die.’
Sadie stirs the milky coffee, tips it into a long glass, then takes it over to the fridge and dumps a good amount of ice into it. She stirs it again. ‘Better than a swimming pool, I guess.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Too soon?’
Her dad makes a ‘so-so’ motion with his hands.
Sadie smiles. Then she walks back across the kitchen and steps outside. Once again, the heat hits her like a sledgehammer.
I am never going to get used to this, she thinks.
Jules is kneeling by the side of the pool, arranging the hose. The balloons, now slightly deflated, are still bobbing at the shallow end.
‘Iced coffee,’ she announces.
‘Thanks.’
Sadie puts the glass down on the garden table. Jules looks up and smiles at her. ‘I’ll get this thoroughly cleaned, balance the chlorine levels, leave the filtration running. That’ll take a couple of hours. Should be fine to swim in by this afternoon. Bet you’re eager to take a dip, right?’
‘Not really.’ She folds her arms and squints at him. ‘You ever had this happen before?’
He sits back on his heels. ‘Usually, it’s animals. Raccoons, rats, pets. They fall in. Can’t work out how to get back out.’
‘Armadillos?’
‘Can’t say we ever had one of them.’
‘No people?’
‘There was this old lady, couple of years ago. Didn’t put her glasses on and just stepped right in. Sank like a stone. No one found her for a week. Man, she blew right up.’ Jules holds his hands wide to demonstrate.
Sadie swallows. ‘Nice.’
‘And years ago, this little kid fell in his family’s pool and drowned.’
‘A kid?’
‘Yeah. Real sad. Must be almost thirty years ago now. My dad was running stuff back then. I was in high school. But I still remember it.’
‘What happened?’
‘His mom was out. Grandma wasn’t paying attention or something.
Kid wandered off. By the time they found him, it was too late.
I always tell people: you got kids, you put a gate on.
’ He shakes his head. ‘Cute kid. I’d see him with his mom, riding his scooter.
He used to wear this cowboy hat like that cartoon character from the Winsom movies … what’s he called?’
Sadie stares at him. All the saliva seems to have evaporated from her mouth.
‘Buddy?’
‘Yeah. That’s it. Apparently, the hat was the first thing anyone spotted, floating on the water.’ Jules suddenly straightens and flushes. ‘Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about all this right now.’
‘No. I mean, it’s fine.’
She thinks about the leaflet still in her shorts pocket. Yellow T-shirt. Cowboy hat. Bright smile.
She clears her throat. ‘D’you remember the name of the kid that drowned?’
Jules scratches his head. ‘It was a long time ago. Maybe Danny—’ And then he catches himself: ‘No. Davey. That’s it. Davey Junior.’