Poison Heart (9 page)

It felt like prying, but curiosity got the better of me and I turned the laptop round to see what she’d accessed. As I began to read I physically shrank into myself. On Nat’s Facebook page was humiliation on a scale never before seen. There were numerous comments posted from people at college about Nat being in love with Adam, but worst were the love spells. It looked as if everyone had got together and written their own – some just cringe-making, some completely brutal. No, this was beyond humiliation, and of course it would spread – no wonder Nat was so upset. I distractedly munched my way through the rest of the popcorn, trying to imagine how I’d feel if this was me and unable to come up with anything to console her.

A wan figure with pink swollen eyes eventually emerged from the bathroom. She walked towards me, stopped, and said just four words: ‘Who did you tell?’

I hadn’t seen this coming at all. ‘No one,’ I cried.
‘Of course I didn’t. It definitely wasn’t me. I wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘Only you and I knew about the love spell, Katy. You suggested it at the craft fair.’

I put one hand on my heart. ‘I haven’t mentioned it to another soul, I swear, and I didn’t call it a love spell … you did. I just don’t understand. Adam isn’t even in our college, and not that many people know him.’

Both of them now looked at me and a shadow seemed to pass between us. I knew straight away what this meant – they doubted me.

Nat attempted a watery smile. ‘If you swear you didn’t say anything, then I believe you.’

Even now she refused to get angry and was trying to trust me. It was just like Nat to be so forgiving, and that made it so much worse. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I
felt
completely guilty. After this the atmosphere was ruined and I had to get away. I gave Nat a hug and made my way home. It was only 8 p.m. and I texted Luke as I walked, hoping to offload some of my angst on to him.

He texted me straight back. Operation Genevieve – might have something to interest you X

‘You look like one of those cartoon characters with a rain cloud over their head,’ he joked, noticing my glum expression as soon as he opened the door.

I trudged upstairs after him, my whole body drooping and my feet leaden. I sprawled across his bed and told him what had happened.

‘I’m sure Genevieve is involved,’ I complained, ‘but I’ve no proof. Targeting me is one thing, but hurting Nat just tears me to pieces. At this rate I won’t have any friends left.’

Luke nodded understandingly. ‘I know … which is why you have to fight back.’ He took a piece of paper from his bag and handed it to me. ‘Don’t get too excited. It might be something, or it might turn out to be nothing …’

My eyes quickly scanned the page. It was a copy of a newspaper article about a fire that had killed a married couple. I gave a tired sigh.

‘Look at the date it happened,’ he urged. ‘Christmas Eve, 2001. You said Genevieve’s parents died on Christmas Eve when she was seven, so … do the math,’ he twanged.

‘But she told people her parents died in a car accident,’ I pointed out. ‘And what about the name? These people are called Jane and Paul Morton, Genevieve’s surname is Paradis.’

Luke blew out several times and joined his hands together in an arch, resting his chin on his fingertips. ‘I checked and cross-checked all the fatal accidents and incidents over a two-year period across the entire country. This is the only one on a Christmas Eve where an only child, a daughter, was left orphaned.’

‘What was the daughter’s name?’

‘Grace.’

I jumped off the bed and clutched my head, trying to think straight. ‘That would mean Genevieve had changed her name. And lied about the crash.’

‘Anything’s possible.’

‘Then … she could have lied about the date as well.’

‘Of course,’ Luke acknowledged, ‘but in my experience, when people lie there’s usually a grain of truth … and that date is so specific.’

I moved to the whiteboard, hoping for inspiration. ‘She
is
a complete mystery because she has no past. She could pretend to be anyone and tell people any story about her life.’

Luke’s eyebrows did something alarming and almost reached his hairline. ‘But … is it worth checking out?’

I nodded eagerly. ‘No one who’s ever met Genevieve would forget her easily.’

‘The fire was in a small country village, outside York, called … hang on … Lower Croxton. We’ll drive over there tomorrow and talk to the locals. Do a bit of digging around.’

I winced slightly. ‘Tomorrow I’m supposed to be seeing Merlin … but … he wouldn’t mind this once. I’ll think up an excuse.’

Luke seemed surprised. ‘You’ll not tell him the truth?’

No … it’s just a small fib, and this is so important. I’ll phone him later. When it’s all over he’ll understand.’

‘We can set off early,’ Luke suggested.

I closed my eyes in excitement. ‘Shall we go undercover?’

‘You can wear the fake beard and glasses, Kat, and I’ll … just go as I am.’

I began hitting him with one of his pillows and didn’t stop until he promised to stop taking the mickey out of me.

The thrill of being able to retaliate at last somehow cushioned the awful memory of Nat’s hurt face looking at me in accusation. I barely slept and woke up before seven, tense and hyper as if I’d downed a double espresso before breakfast. I threw open my wardrobe and surveyed the contents. The weather had turned cooler, which meant I needed something warm, and we were heading for the sticks, so I needed practical shoes in case we had to trek across fields or dodge a herd of cows or do whatever people did in the countryside. I settled on combats and a waterproof jacket that Mum had bought for my geography field trip, along with sensible boots I normally wouldn’t be seen dead in. It might be an advantage to look older, so I slapped on some make-up and tried sweeping my hair up, attempting sophistication, but it made me look even more of a schoolgirl so I left it down. I couldn’t face breakfast but filled a small bag with crisps, biscuits, chocolate and bottled water.

Luke looked decidedly dishevelled in old jeans and a thick sweater, sporting just-rolled-out-of-bed hair and stubble. I couldn’t help feeling how nice it was to be heading somewhere different. Our town seemed so much more claustrophobic now that Genevieve was everywhere.

‘Doesn’t Laura mind you giving up your day like this?’

He gave a lopsided smile. ‘Laura likes to hit the shops on a Saturday. You’ve actually saved me from a fate worse than death.’

I was relieved. I had been worried in case our trip was a source of friction between them.

‘What about Merlin?’

‘I told him Mum wasn’t well … it’s only a tiny lie. I want to see him of course, but this is too important to put off.’

‘Doesn’t he think this thing with Genevieve is weird?’

‘Can’t really explain it to him,’ I admitted. ‘His mum thinks she’s great and talented and she just fools everyone.’

‘Poor Kat. She’s got everyone caught in her web, hasn’t she?’

‘Kind of.’ I turned my face towards the window and watched the landscape fly by, wondering when life had got so complicated.

‘Ever been to Yorkshire?’ he asked with a yawn.

I shook my head.

‘We spent a few holidays here when I was a kid,’ Luke began. ‘It has loads of atmosphere – windswept moors, rolling hills and fells, potholes, forests, waterfalls, valleys,
not to mention all the historic spooky buildings. In fact, York is the most haunted city in Britain.’

‘You sound like an advert for the tourist board.’ I laughed.

He gave me a sly wink. ‘I didn’t mention all the famous witches who lived there.’

‘I’m off witches now … remember?’

Luke seemed to liven up as we hit the motorway and spent the next two hours telling me funny stories about his job and his boss. For the first time in weeks I felt myself again. It was almost as if Genevieve’s hold on me relaxed the further we travelled.

‘Phew … we’re definitely in the country now.’ I hastily closed my window as the smell of manure wafted in.

Luke consulted his satnav. ‘Almost there. Only five more miles to go.’

He pulled over into a lay-by to let a tractor go the other way as the road had become single-lane traffic only. As far as the eye could see there were patchwork fields planted with row after row of cabbages and bright yellow rapeseed. The wind cut through the open landscape, shaking the newly bare trees and stirring up the fallen leaves. I could feel its force even though we were safely protected in the car.

‘This is it,’ Luke announced, and pulled over on to a grass verge.

The village was no more than fifty or so properties dotted around a green. Most of the buildings looked like
former workers’ cottages, with small paned windows and low door frames. A few new-build houses contrasted harshly with the old worn bricks and slate roofs. A farmhouse sat proudly on a hill with several barns around. It took me a moment to work out what was odd about Lower Croxton – the silence. I’d imagined jolly farmers riding tractors, sun-kissed children dashing through the corn and women in bonnets carrying baskets of newly laid eggs and warm milk, but there wasn’t a person in sight.

‘Everyone must be inside,’ Luke said.

‘We’ll never be inconspicuous here,’ I complained, noticing the twitching of a net curtain. ‘This isn’t the kind of place where anyone simply passes through.’

Luke stretched as he got out of the car and looked around. ‘We should find the local inn or pub – anywhere the locals hang out.’

I pulled a face at the word ‘locals’, and Luke pulled my hood over my eyes. ‘It isn’t the
Village of the Damned
, Kat.’

I frowned. ‘Doesn’t seem to be a pub around.’

Luke pointed straight ahead. ‘What about that building? There’s a notice outside.’

‘It used to be the dairy,’ I said without thinking, and he stared at me in amazement.

‘You know that for certain?’

‘No.’ I laughed in embarrassment, not wanting to explain the déjà-vu feeling. ‘I mean, it looks like it was once a dairy.’

We walked towards the sign which advertised fresh
farm produce, and Luke took my arm in a strangely old-fashioned way.

‘I’m too young to act like an old married woman,’ I complained.

He stopped and gave me an appraising glance. ‘When I went away to uni you were still a brat with braces on your goofy teeth.’

‘You visited plenty of times in three years, Luke,’ I said. ‘You were just too busy enjoying yourself to notice me.’

‘I’m noticing you now,’ he said, and for some reason my stomach felt peculiar. ‘And you’re still a brat, Kat.’

I managed to kick the back of his calf as we walked. He chased me to the green and wrestled me to the ground with a rugby tackle while I screamed at him to get off, wondering what the villagers would make of us.

‘We’ll start with the farmer’s wife,’ Luke said, brushing grass from his jeans. ‘She’ll be fifteen stone with ruddy cheeks and arms like a wrestler. She’s bound to have lived here for fifty years and know every birth and death for miles around. Her daughters will look like milkmaids and her sons will wear dungarees and chew pieces of straw.’

I didn’t even smile because panic began to rise. ‘We can’t just blunder in there. We have to work out a story first.’ Luke completely ignored me and kept on walking. ‘Luke? We have to get our stories straight …

He waved one hand dismissively. ‘Just leave it to me. I’m a journalist. This is what we do best.’

The girl sitting on a high stool had raven hair, a white face, purple lips and kohled eyes. The leather miniskirt, fishnet tights and Doc Martens didn’t quite go with the milkmaid image, nor did the piercings in her nose, eyebrow or cheek. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud as Luke’s jaw dropped. She didn’t seem remotely interested in why we were here or make comments about ‘strangers’ and ‘not being from these parts’. She looked us up and down with a sulky expression, then went back to reading a book. Luke was dumbstruck, despite my attempts to elbow him in the ribs. I noticed a small round table and two chairs in one corner.

‘Do you sell sandwiches or drinks?’ I asked hopefully.

‘I can do a ham or cheese roll with a hot drink,’ she said, turning a page.

‘Two ham rolls with tea, please. We’ve had quite a long drive.’

No reaction. She disappeared into the back while Luke and I stared at each other.

‘Milkmaid!’ I hissed, and Luke kicked me under the table.

‘She looks like something from a zombie movie,’ he whispered.

Luke didn’t share my love of old properties so I didn’t bother enthusing about the thick crumbly walls or the beauty of the ancient crossbeams. Everything had been left original and exposed down to the tiny recessed windows. We heard a rustle of material and I put one finger on my lips
to warn Luke not to speak. A woman bustled in, carrying two plates, and I deliberately refused to catch his eye. She was a caricature of a farmer’s wife, even more exaggerated than his description – huge dimpled red face framed with grey hair, and an apple-shaped body under a large apron.

‘Well, well,’ she began, setting the plates in front of us. ‘What brings you to our neck of the woods?’

I suppressed a smile. ‘We’re … just passing through. We wanted to take the scenic route, see some countryside. We’re from the city … smoke, smog and all that.’

‘We have seen cows before,’ Luke joked at my expense.

I pulled a stupid face at him behind her back. ‘Have you lived here long?’

‘All my married life,’ she answered stoutly. ‘The farm has been in my husband’s family for three generations. You’re sitting in what used to be the dairy.’

Luke made a noise of surprise but I ignored him. ‘So you’d know everyone from the village?’

Her eyes darted suspiciously between us. ‘I would.’

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but I jumped in first. ‘It’s just that … I’m trying to organize a family reunion, and there’re people who live in this village who might be … sort of relatives of mine.’

‘So you haven’t really come to admire the countryside,’ the farmer’s wife commented, vigorously stirring a pot of tea. I was parched, but she made no effort to bring it to our table. ‘And what’s their name?’