The Pull of the Moon (20 page)

Afterwards we lay facing one another with the sheet pulled up to our waists and our legs casually entwined beneath it, talking as easily as if we hopped into bed together every day.

‘How did you find out about Simon?’ I asked. (I was naïve still – assuming Trudie had spotted some secret signal I had missed.)

‘He told me,’ Trudie said. ‘We talk a lot.’

I was mildly stung by this. I had known him longer than Trudie, but he had never confided in me.

‘Did you mind?’ I asked. ‘That he didn’t fancy you?’

Trudie flicked aside a long strand of hair which had fallen across her face. ‘Course not. I don’t mind going out with lads – but I prefer to do it with girls.’

I tried to keep my face from registering shock. In spite of all that we had just engaged in, I found the idea rather difficult to absorb. ‘But you don’t mind boys?’ I was still
trying to make sense of it, searching for some context.

‘It depends on the boy. I’d go out with Simon or Danny if they asked me – but not somebody like that awful Josser. Did I tell you I saw him in town again yesterday? He tried to
speak, but I just ignored him.’

‘I keep hearing a bike in the lane,’ I said. ‘I hope it isn’t him – snooping around.’

‘Anyway, I prefer to have girls,’ Trudie reiterated. ‘That’s why they threw me out of school. Me and another girl. They got our parents in and agreed between themselves
that we had to be separated. I’m supposed to be starting a new school in September and I’m never to make contact with Bev again. That’s why I ran – left.’

‘Trudie – how old are you?’ I was propped up on one elbow, looking straight at her. She had her back to the bedroom door, which was ajar, and for a second I thought I saw the
gap darken, signifying the presence of someone on the landing. ‘Who’s there?’ I said sharply.

Trudie turned immediately, but there was no answer and nothing to be seen. ‘It’s only Murdered Agnes,’ she said cheerfully. It was her stock answer to any creak of the
floorboards or fleeting shadow.

‘Suppose it was Simon or Danny.’ I spoke without conviction: it had been no more than a shadow at the periphery of my vision. I wasn’t confident there had been anything there
at all.

‘It won’t have been,’ she assured me. ‘They’re both working flat out to be in time for the builder – anyway, what if it was?’

Trudie’s casual attitude to our being discovered in bed together was a wake-up call. I was supposed to be Danny’s girlfriend. I might be mad at him and I might not think what I had
just done with Trudie constituted quite the same level of infidelity as going with another man; but I couldn’t kid myself that he would be exactly delighted to find me in bed with our female
housemate. Bottom line here – this was not on the same level of friendship as going shopping with Cecile.

‘Look, Trudie,’ I said. ‘This was great and everything, but I don’t think we should say anything about it to Danny – or Simon. Not yet, anyway.’ (Not ever,
said a voice in my head. This is bent, for goodness sake – this is an episode you don’t share with anyone – end of story.)

‘Okay.’ Trudie wasn’t in the least perturbed. ‘I can keep a secret.’

‘Good. I need to sort things out, you see, between me and Danny.’

‘Of course.’ Trudie leaned forward to brush her lips against my forehead. ‘I won’t say a word. Not until everything is sorted out – then maybe you could move into
my room?’

‘We’d better get up now,’ I said quickly. ‘They’ll wonder where we’ve been – and what we’ve been doing.’

‘Oh, tell them we’ve been cleaning up,’ said Trudie, airily. ‘They’ll never notice any difference.’

Trudie dressed almost as swiftly as she had shed her clothes and having done so she went down to retrieve the dry washing for me. Then she hung about while I got into some clothes – a pair
of cut-downs and a cheesecloth top, still warm from the line – and gave me another kiss before we walked downstairs together. My heart was pounding as we entered the kitchen, but the boys
were still outside. I set up the ironing board and began to work my way through the basket of dry washing, focusing on the job in hand as if my life depended on it, while Trudie glided around the
kitchen making our evening meal.

Her proximity unnerved me. She kept singing to herself – little snatches of songs, while the sunshine danced across the ceiling whenever she moved a knife or some other utensil. She
fetched me a glass of water without my having to ask, smiling as she put it down beside me. I tried to smile back, but all the time I was wondering about Danny. Our earlier fight had yet to be
resolved. And what on earth would he say if he found out about me and Trudie? Then there was Trudie herself: as the glow of our sojourn in bed faded, I was beginning to question what madness had
possessed me. Talk of moving into her bedroom was nothing short of crazy. I had come here as Danny’s girlfriend – I was
still
Danny’s girlfriend. Normal girls didn’t
move into a double bed together. What the hell had I been thinking, letting her climb into my bed, encouraging her to do those things?

The guys worked outside until approaching eight o’clock, which gave me time to both finish all the ironing and work up a positive fever of nerves. We ate at the kitchen table that night. I
am not sure whether anyone else sensed that the atmosphere was edgy. Perhaps it was only me, preoccupied by competing uncertainties, desperate to avoid catching Trudie’s eye lest I
inadvertently betray myself to the others. I kept glancing in Danny’s direction, but he was concentrating on his meal. We weren’t exactly not speaking, but we didn’t say a lot to
one another either – which left most of the talking to Simon and Trudie.

‘What’s the plan for tonight?’ Simon asked as we were finishing our meal.

‘Maybe Danny could play for us,’ I suggested, by way of an olive branch.

‘I don’t feel like it,’ said Danny. ‘How about our little wager, Trudie? It’s a fine dry night.’

‘There’s not much moonlight,’ said Trudie.

‘You never said there had to be any.’ There was a faint sneer in Danny’s voice. ‘Not backing down, are we?’

‘Of course not,’ said Trudie. ‘I was just thinking about seeing our way in the dark, that was all.’

‘There’s a torch in my car,’ said Simon.

‘One torch between four,’ I interposed – but Danny was way ahead of me.

‘There’s a flashlight in the pantry,’ he said. ‘And a small torch.’

‘Oh honestly,’ I tried to sound dismissive. ‘Who wants to go stumbling round the woods by torchlight?’

‘We do, don’t we, Si?’ said Danny. ‘Been looking forward to it all day. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’ He stood up to get another beer,
passing close behind my chair. ‘Chicken,’ he said, in a voice too low for the others to catch.

I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. It was already growing dark outside. I didn’t want to join in with the excursion to Bettis Wood; but neither did I want to stay on my
own in the house.

‘I’m up for it,’ Simon was saying. ‘We don’t need any special equipment, do we, Trudie? Joss sticks? Candles? Medallions of St Theresa of the Roses, anything like
that?’

Trudie took it in good part. ‘Nothing at all – only torches.’

‘We don’t have to wait till midnight, do we?’ asked Danny. ‘Because I’ll be asleep by then. I’m absolutely knackered.’

‘Worth it though,’ said Simon. ‘All we’ve got to do is layer in the sand tomorrow. Then we’ll be ready for the concrete man, the day after.’

‘We can go now, if you want,’ said Trudie. ‘The time is almost right for something to happen. I can sense it. In fact things are happening for some people already.’

I glanced at her nervously. Several times during our meal she had come close to saying too much. Simon was watching me and I experienced the alarming sensation that he knew exactly what Trudie
was getting at. I felt the colour rising in my face.

‘So,’ said Danny. ‘It’s agreed. Tonight’s the night for the ghost hunt.’

‘How about you, Katy?’ Simon’s eyes were still on me. ‘Are you coming with us or not?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Count me in.’ Safety in numbers. At least the others would be with me in the wood – better than staying alone in the big empty house.

There was quite a delay before we set out. Trudie and I both decided to put some warmer clothes on, but whereas I dithered in the bedroom uncertain what to wear, she must have changed quickly
and was already standing in the hall with Simon when I came downstairs. They had evidently been talking, but as I approached he cut off abruptly and went into the kitchen. I caught his last words
though – ‘. . . get hurt if you don’t leave her alone . . .’

‘What’s he talking about?’ I hissed, as I joined her in the hall.

‘He’s just being an old woman,’ she said. ‘He’s got a problem with you and me.’

‘What do you mean – you and me? You haven’t told him, have you?’

‘I didn’t have to. He walked past the bedroom this afternoon and saw us.’

‘Oh God,’ I whispered. ‘He’ll tell Danny for sure.’

‘Well, someone’s got to,’ said Trudie. She spoke so carelessly – as if it didn’t matter at all.

‘No,’ I said. ‘He mustn’t ever find out. Don’t you understand? You’ve got to make Simon promise.’

Trudie just looked at me and laughed. She pushed open the kitchen door and went sailing in. I trailed in after her, praying that she would keep her mouth shut, but knowing full well that she
might choose to say something at any moment – she was utterly irresponsible.

We found both the boys in the kitchen, faffing about because the batteries in the smallest torch were nearly dead. Some spare batteries were finally located on the top shelf of the pantry and
inserted into the torch, after which there was still the whole locking-up-the-house fandango. Only when we were standing outside the locked front door did Simon extract his torch from the car boot,
at which point it became evident that it had been in there for some time. When he switched it on it emitted no more than a sickly orange glow, which faltered a couple of times before settling into
a jaundiced beam.

‘It needs new batteries.’

‘Have we got any the right size?’

‘Oh, do come on,’ I exclaimed. ‘Let’s go if we’re going. At this rate we’ll be hanging around all night.’

Simon hesitated. No one appeared to be inclined to unlock the door and embark on another search for batteries, so he shrugged and said he thought it would be all right and we finally set off.
The footpath which ran down the side of the field looked strange and unfamiliar – as if it took on a completely new aspect after dark, showing a side of its character we didn’t normally
see. Not frightening, I told myself – just different.

Trudie led the way as eager as a child on a trip to the circus. I had chosen clothing which I thought appropriate to the undertaking – jeans with a long-sleeved cotton shirt buttoned over
the top – but Trudie had gone for the Bus Stop look: full-length skirt, smock top, floppy cardigan and a long silk scarf wound round her neck. She had commandeered the small torch and as she
set off along the footpath, I saw it cleaving the darkness like a pale spear. Danny walked immediately behind Trudie, carrying the big flashlight; then came Simon, assisted by his much feebler
beam, and I was last in line – without any means of illuminating the path at all. Under normal circumstances Danny would have been alongside me every step of the way, but I guessed he was
teaching me a lesson.

Simon’s torch was focused well ahead of where I was putting my feet, so I found it best to keep my eyes away from the lights and concentrate hard on where I was going. Noises play tricks
in the dark. I almost convinced myself that I could hear someone breathing behind me on the path; but when I stopped to listen there was nothing there. I hurried on again, not wanting to be left
behind.

Once inside the wood we were surrounded by the sound of the trees. Their movements seemed louder at night. Branches creaked as if taking advantage of the darkness to stretch and flex more freely
than they felt able to do in daylight. Now that we were no longer confined to single file, I manoeuvred myself so that I was walking slightly to the right of Simon. Until then he had been between
me and the others, and it was only when I drew level with him that I realized Trudie had got some way ahead of us.

‘Trudie,’ I called. ‘Hang on. We don’t want to get separated.’

I don’t think she heard me. My words had not emerged as loudly as I intended, and the noise of the trees increased at just the wrong moment.

‘It’s okay,’ said Simon. ‘She said the playground was the place to go. We know where it is. We’ll soon catch her up.’

‘If you go down to the woods today, be sure of a big surprise,’
sang Danny.

Trudie was getting too far ahead. ‘Trudie,’ I called again.

At that moment the two torches alongside me were both extinguished. Someone – Danny, I was almost sure – emitted one of those maniacal cackles of laughter: the stage villain about to
pounce on his prey.

‘Come on, guys,’ I said. ‘Stop pratting about.’ My voice sounded hollow and squeaky in the dark, a strange mixture of annoyance and pleading. No one responded. There was
a rustle to my left and I braced myself for whatever surprise was about to come out of the dark. I hated them in that moment – hated all three of them. Any minute now they were going to jump
out and make me scream. It was the sort of stunt my big brother used to pull all the time. I stood rigid in the darkness, experiencing a familiar sense of rising panic, while fighting down the urge
to cry. My tears had always been big brother’s victory.
Katy’s such a cry-baby.
‘Come on,’ I said again. ‘You’re not being fair. I’m the only one
who hasn’t got a torch. Switch them back on.’

I was greeted by another mad cackle of laughter, which appeared to come from further away than the first. This was followed by Simon’s voice from somewhere on my left. ‘Fuck it. The
battery must have gone.’

He sounded genuine. I clenched my hands at my sides. There was no need to panic. Danny was close at hand with a big flashlight.

‘Danny,’ I called out.