and fumed. How could what had seemed to be so good go south so quickly? If only Helena hadn’t worn that dress. If only Richard hadn’t been such a letch as to fall for it. And the most annoying thing was, the woman didn’t even seem to be aware of the reaction she provoked in him. Only a night after he’d had sex with Melanie, and she’d managed not to spew, he was looking elsewhere. Did he think Helena’s scrawny little body was any more capable of bearing fruit than her own?
She searched for the moon but it wasn’t up yet. From out in the dark, she thought she heard the occasional strum of a guitar, but maybe it was just her ears playing tricks. The surf was loud, almost drowning out the cicadas. The light spilling from the cabin obscured some stars but there were still quite a few sparkling overhead. Not as impressive as the other night when she’d had her walk on the beach, but more than she could see in the city.
Movement caught her eye. A flash of lightness amongst the trees. Helena? Her entire body tensed. But no, the woman would not be out in the scrub at night. Especially if she wasn’t feeling well. But Melanie lingered, peering for another sight of that lithe body, feeling again the confusion evoked by their kiss.
A curlew called, and was answered by a scream. Goose pimples covered her arms; her nape prickled. What bird had made that piercing sound? She listened intently, but heard only surf, a faint whisper of branches in the breeze. The cicadas were silent.
There! A flash of movement. She peered into the darkness where the lights of the cabin made the palest tree trunks glow. She thought she’d seen someone, just for a moment. A face, pale, dark-fringed…
Suddenly cold, she went back inside and was relieved to find Richard off the phone, muttering as he manoeuvred the mouse.
She walked over, reaching to hug him. A pane opened up and she saw Leanne’s message window, text crawling across the square. Richard hit reply, began typing. The letters took a long time to appear. He growled.
Melanie changed trajectory and headed for the bathroom. All the times they’d come up here, she’d never heard a scream like that. The impression of a white face in the trees followed her; a face with green animal eyes shining in the night.
Ten
Melanie awoke feeling as if she’d been hung out on a washing line all night, her body stretched thin, her eyes filled with sand. A note on the table said Richard had taken the Jeep to the village. His laptop was gone.
She scrunched the note and threw it in the bin.
A cup of tea and a grapefruit for breakfast, the last of the apple and blackcurrant juice. Maybe she could ring Richard to get more juice from the store and buy something for dinner. She really couldn’t be bothered cooking.
The cabin was stifling, and ever so quiet. Outside, honey-eaters snapped at each other. A light breeze barely ruffled the trees. The tin roof creaked.
Her novel failed to hold her attention, the text blurring under her weary, distracted gaze. The bite on her neck itched like a cold sore.
‘To hell with it.’
She dressed in khaki boardshorts and a tank top under a long-sleeved shirt, and applied make-up to try to hide the worst of the dark rings and pallid cheeks. She pulled her hair back, considered a small ponytail, then let it hang mussed. It gave her a girlish appearance, youthful, almost carefree. She tried to smile but failed, and pulled on a cap to lock her fringe out of her eyes.
Melanie grabbed the plastic bag with Helena’s dress, donned her sandals and figure-cloaking serape, and walked to the door. A sweeping stare through the glass revealed nothing unusual, just a line of menacing clouds out to sea, and the chartreuse-coloured ocean, restless and foaming. She shook away last night’s uneasiness, stepped out into the bright, baking sunshine, locked the door and set off for Helena’s cabin. Should she ask about her missing underwear? Maybe it’d be best to just
She searched for the moon but it wasn’t up yet. From out in the dark, she thought she heard the occasional strum of a guitar, but maybe it was just her ears playing tricks. The surf was loud, almost drowning out the cicadas. The light spilling from the cabin obscured some stars but there were still quite a few sparkling overhead. Not as impressive as the other night when she’d had her walk on the beach, but more than she could see in the city.
Movement caught her eye. A flash of lightness amongst the trees. Helena? Her entire body tensed. But no, the woman would not be out in the scrub at night. Especially if she wasn’t feeling well. But Melanie lingered, peering for another sight of that lithe body, feeling again the confusion evoked by their kiss.
A curlew called, and was answered by a scream. Goose pimples covered her arms; her nape prickled. What bird had made that piercing sound? She listened intently, but heard only surf, a faint whisper of branches in the breeze. The cicadas were silent.
There! A flash of movement. She peered into the darkness where the lights of the cabin made the palest tree trunks glow. She thought she’d seen someone, just for a moment. A face, pale, dark-fringed…
Suddenly cold, she went back inside and was relieved to find Richard off the phone, muttering as he manoeuvred the mouse.
She walked over, reaching to hug him. A pane opened up and she saw Leanne’s message window, text crawling across the square. Richard hit reply, began typing. The letters took a long time to appear. He growled.
Melanie changed trajectory and headed for the bathroom. All the times they’d come up here, she’d never heard a scream like that. The impression of a white face in the trees followed her; a face with green animal eyes shining in the night.
Ten
Melanie awoke feeling as if she’d been hung out on a washing line all night, her body stretched thin, her eyes filled with sand. A note on the table said Richard had taken the Jeep to the village. His laptop was gone.
She scrunched the note and threw it in the bin.
A cup of tea and a grapefruit for breakfast, the last of the apple and blackcurrant juice. Maybe she could ring Richard to get more juice from the store and buy something for dinner. She really couldn’t be bothered cooking.
The cabin was stifling, and ever so quiet. Outside, honey-eaters snapped at each other. A light breeze barely ruffled the trees. The tin roof creaked.
Her novel failed to hold her attention, the text blurring under her weary, distracted gaze. The bite on her neck itched like a cold sore.
‘To hell with it.’
She dressed in khaki boardshorts and a tank top under a long-sleeved shirt, and applied make-up to try to hide the worst of the dark rings and pallid cheeks. She pulled her hair back, considered a small ponytail, then let it hang mussed. It gave her a girlish appearance, youthful, almost carefree. She tried to smile but failed, and pulled on a cap to lock her fringe out of her eyes.
Melanie grabbed the plastic bag with Helena’s dress, donned her sandals and figure-cloaking serape, and walked to the door. A sweeping stare through the glass revealed nothing unusual, just a line of menacing clouds out to sea, and the chartreuse-coloured ocean, restless and foaming. She shook away last night’s uneasiness, stepped out into the bright, baking sunshine, locked the door and set off for Helena’s cabin. Should she ask about her missing underwear? Maybe it’d be best to just
Similar Books
