Guilt Trip (14 page)

It was on
iTunes, in Luke’s music. And so, although I wanted more than anything to get
out of there, I hesitated. I had to know. Scanning down the list of what seemed
to be mostly rock music, I came to the ‘N’s. And there it was: Nirvana -
Come as you are.
The song I’d been
humming. The song from my dream.

I thought
about the iPod I’d seen by his bed. Is that where he listened to it - alone, at
night? Billie’s song.

Back in
my room, I locked my door, put on the safety chain and angled the chair firmly
under the handle.

Having
hidden the wallpaper scraper at the back of my wardrobe, I sat on my bed, laying
the diary out in front of me. Opening it, a warm, woody perfume rose up from
the paper. The scent of Billie.

She was
obviously artistic. Her handwriting was very stylised, and she’d decorated many
of the pages with doodles - patterns made up of swirls and exotic flowers and paisley
designs. But then, on the other hand, there were also areas where words or
whole lines had been scored out in an ugly way, the pen scratching at the paper
in an attempt to obliterate the words. And some of the pages were missing,
ripped out clumsily so that the ragged edges remained. These were the extra
bits of paper which I had found with the diary, scribbled over and scrumpled up
at the back of the hole.

I glanced
at a couple, but most of the text was indecipherable, having been crossed out
over and over again.

But now
it was time to start from the beginning. To read Billie’s memories. To find out
what she wanted to tell me.

<><><>

Aged
sixteen, Billie had moved to the area after her parents had separated in what
she referred to as ‘a bitter divorce’. Luke’s mum was an old friend of Billie’s
mum, and she’d generously offered her the job of waitress at the pub, on a
live-in basis.

Billie’s
mum had given her daughter the diary as a symbol of their new life. A fresh start.
The beginning of better times.

But the
first few entries weren’t happy. It was the summer holidays when they arrived, the
tourist season, so her mum’s job kept her very busy, and being new to the area,
Billie had no friends. She complained of endless, boring, lonely days.

That is,
until she got to know Luke.

He lived
at the pub with his parents, though he was a little older than Billie, working as
a tour guide/expedition leader, mostly in the Devil’s Lair
area. At first, he appeared in the diary only now and again. A casual
acquaintance. Nothing much. But that changed after Billie’s father showed up,
and he and Billie’s mum had a huge row in the bar. Billie ran to her room in
tears, distressed, and it was Luke who came to look after her. She described
them lying together on her bed, Luke cradling her in his arms, listening to
her, comforting her.

I paused
for a second, remembering a similar evening in Dad’s room, when Luke had been
so sweet to me. I’d thought he was wonderful. So caring. And all the time he’d
simply been repeating the past. Reliving his memories through me.

And so
Billie found herself falling for him. And for a while, everything was good. The
margins of her diary at this point were covered in a myriad of heart patterns,
and the entries were full of Luke, describing him as ‘sweet’ and ‘funny’ and ‘romantic’.

She wrote
that they liked the same music, and that he’d introduced her to some older
bands, including Nirvana, which she loved immediately.

She
described the thrill of sitting on the back of his motorbike, speeding across
the fells, visiting waterfalls and mountain tarns.

But their
favourite pastime was to use Luke’s work-keys to get into Hell’s Mouth
after hours. They’d play their
favourite songs on a portable player and drink a few beers on the platform
overlooking the Hall of Teeth. And there they’d imagine their future life
together. And they’d make out, Luke treating her with complete and utter
devotion.

But as summer
ended, and Billie started at the local college, things changed. She began making
friends - building up a social life. And Luke didn’t like that. He’d had her all
to himself that summer and didn’t want to share her. He became insecure, paranoid,
convinced that she would leave him.

And so he
started trying to control her, monopolising her on nights out with her friends,
making her leave early so that they could spend time alone. Though outwardly amiable
and fun with others, he managed to keep Billie from them as much as possible,
isolating her, preventing her from bonding too closely with anyone else.

And once
when she
did
manage to go out without
him, he followed her to a club where he found her dancing with other kids from
college:
male
and female. And he certainly
didn’t like that. As soon as they were on their own, he accused her of being a
disgusting drunk - a slut, throwing herself at other boys.

And so
their loving relationship was deteriorating, her diary becoming peppered with
unpleasant incidents, many roughly crossed out or torn from the book. I guessed
Luke had done that, trying to blot out the bits of their history that he didn’t
want to remember. The bad times. Trying to convince himself that it had all
been perfect.

At first
it wasn’t much - a harsh word, or an uncomfortable silence - but she could soon
bring him round. Until one day, when she was telling him a funny story about a
boy from her class, he ‘shut’ her ‘careless mouth’ with a slap. In the diary
she wrote that he was horrified at having hurt her. And he’d had such sorrow in
his eyes that she’d forgiven him, even blaming herself for being thoughtless,
for making him jealous. For hurting him.

And the
next day he’d bought her a gift, and spoiled and loved her, and he kissed her
more sweetly than ever. And everything seemed to be good again.

Until the
next time. Until she needed to be ‘taught another lesson’.

As I
read, at first I couldn’t understand why Billie hadn’t simply broken up with
him. Left him. Nobody should have to put up with that.

But then
I thought about myself. I too had experienced his mood-swings, though to a
lesser degree. I too had put up with his anger in order to receive his affection.
I thought back, in disbelief, to how I’d momentarily blamed myself for
upsetting him that time he’d heard me humming Nirvana. And at one point I’d
even thought he had a right to tell me off for drinking, that I’d deserved his
lecture. And the worst time, when he’d been livid at finding me trespassing in
his bedroom, I hadn’t rebelled at all, hadn’t told him where to get off. No, I’d
simply sat there crying, wishing he’d be nice to me again.

It made
no sense to allow someone to exert such power over you. And yet Billie and I
had both done so.

But then
I remembered how
young
Luke had behaved
in the bathroom episode. Nobody could put up with that, could they?

But then,
Billie didn’t have any really close friends, did she. Not that she could
confide in. Luke had seen to that. And her mum had her own problems with her
Dad. And Luke was the boss’s son. If she caused trouble, they could lose their
home.

So, all
in all, she was caught. Trapped. Silenced.

And then
I came to the part I knew. The bathroom. Billie was at the basin. But she
hadn’t locked the door properly. Either that, or Luke had somehow managed to
fix it that way. And just as she was reaching for the tap, he walked in on her.
And - well, I knew what was to come. I had experienced some of it myself. But I
couldn’t read Billie’s version, as most of the incident was illegible, scored
out over and over, torn out and scrunched up. Whatever had happened that day, Luke
obviously couldn’t face reading about it. It must have been bad.

But now I
was startled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Mel?”

It was
him.

I sat
there, still and silent.

“Mel?”

I didn’t
move.

“Mel. I’m
sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

He was
talking about what had happened in his bedroom. When he’d called me Billie. It
seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Mel. Open
the door.”

He
started to rattle the door handle.

“Mel.” He
was more insistent now. “I said open the door.”

But then suddenly
he stopped, and I could hear him leaving. And then there were different voices
on the landing. I checked the time. Yes - it was getting late: the other guests
would start coming to their rooms now. Going to bed. He’d have no choice but to
leave. I was only sixteen after all.

Once I
was sure he’d gone, I turned back to the diary. The next section was messy, written
in a shaky hand.

‘I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have. It
was a moment of madness.

He bought that bear as a peace offering, even
though he still says it was my fault - that he was only trying to be romantic
and I spoiled it by reacting like that.

So when he finds out what I’ve done with it, he’s
going to feel so hurt. So angry. But I have no other choice. No alternative. I
have to go to him. Tell him. Explain.’

She was
talking about the bear. The pink teddy bear. It had been
hers
. And it sounded like it had been given to her by Luke after
the violent scene in the bathroom.

I thought
back to Luke’s words in the tacky souvenir shop: “You girls and your cuddly
toys.” He’d given her a child’s toy as a treat. ‘A peace offering’. As if that
would make up for what he’d done.

But she’d
done something to it. Something she regretted. And I knew exactly what that
was. She’d taken it to the Changing Well, hadn’t she, and allowed it to be hung
up on the wire.

I thought
back to when I’d first seen it there. How I’d suddenly felt so liberated. So
strong. Those must have been Billie’s emotions I’d been feeling. Her ‘moment of
madness’. And so I guess that’s why she’d done it: some kind of crazy, rebellious
revolt against Luke’s tyranny. At last.

But then,
the euphoria of rebellion over, she’d regretted her actions, knowing she would
have to pay for them - somehow. I thought back to how my mind had been plunged
into despair. Into complete and utter terror. I’d experienced Billie’s fear,
her real dread of Luke’s reaction. Of what he would do to her.

And yet the
diary said she intended to ‘go to him’, to tell him about it - to ‘explain’. I
couldn’t even imagine the courage needed to do that.

But when
I turned the page to find out more, I was faced with a blank sheet. For there
the entries stopped.

I didn’t
understand. I flicked through the rest of the pages - but they were all empty.

However there
was
something else: a paper tucked
inside near the back. It was a newspaper cutting. I looked at the headline:
Girl Dies in Tragic Cave Accident
.

And underneath
was a photo of a familiar face. The girl who’d been haunting me. Billie.

I read the
first couple of paragraphs. Apparently Billie and Luke, described as ‘a young
couple’ had been on the viewing platform overlooking the Hall of Teeth at
Hell’s Mouth
.
The paper called it ‘an
amorous tryst’
.
Billie had been ‘unwisely’
sitting up on the railing, and she’d fallen. A group on a tour heard her cry
for help as they neared the cavern, and found Luke desperately trying to pull
her up as she hung on for dear life. But just as they reached the pair, she
slipped from his grasp, falling to her death on the limestone floor thirty
metres below.

So that
was the terrible accident. That was how she’d died. Poor Billie.

And no
wonder Luke couldn’t get over her. He probably blamed himself for what had
happened. For his inability to save her.

<><><>

Suddenly,
I was interrupted by a faint scratching at the door.

 
“Mel,” Luke whispered softly. “Mel. Please…”

Poor Luke.
How he must have suffered over the years. The guilt of being alive when she was
dead. Like Survivor Syndrome. It almost excused his treatment of me, using me
as a Billie substitute.

But now I
could hear fumbling at the keyhole. He was trying to unlock the door. I ran
forward, but was too late. The chair overbalanced and the door opened a
fraction, only to crash to a halt as the safety chain stopped its path.

“Mel. Let
me in.”

I stood
there, hesitating, caught between fear and forgiveness. It must have been so
hard for him. To see her die like that.

But then
he grew impatient at the delay, pushing at the door again, sticking his foot in
the gap to prevent it from shutting. “Mel!” His voice had a sharper edge to it
now. And his tone snapped me back to my senses. What was I doing, feeling sorry
for him? He didn’t deserve my pity.

“Mel -
I’m warning you…”

His words
chilled me, and I experienced again the utter terror which Billie had felt after
she’d allowed the bear to be hung up at the Changing Well.

And so I
didn’t even have to think about it. Not at all. It was instinctive. Billie may
have been trapped into silence. But not me. Not any longer. And so I opened my
mouth. And screamed.

It took
about ten seconds. And then I heard doors opening and angry voices asking what
was going on.