Lucy should start scooping the ice, but she wants to hear this. If she’s here to get something to use in her column, she needs as much gossip as she can get.
‘I thought it was porn at first,’ Tiggy continues. ‘You know. For our little love nest.’ She tries to laugh. ‘I thought that whoever is doing this hasn’t done their research, because me and Giles . . . well, let’s just say we don’t need any help to get going.’
Lucy scoops the ice and throws it into the bucket. Lucky little bitch. She can’t remember the last time she had a decent sexual encounter where the other participant gave more than a passing glance at her bits before trying to ram himself in. Tiggy’s recall of Giles’s memory feed sounds completely legit, based on what she’s heard about him. And if that scene is real, then there’s a pretty good chance that Tiggy’s is too. The thought makes her feel sick. She stands up quickly, ready to speak, but she is instantly disarmed as Tiggy smiles at her.
‘Hey,’ she says. ‘I’d really love that coffee now.’
‘Coming right up.’ Lucy takes the ice bucket back to the other side of the bar. She wants to kick herself for distracting them just as Tiggy was getting to the good stuff.
‘The sun’s out again,’ Amelia says, climbing off the stool. ‘We’re going to sit on the loungers for a bit. Maybe someone could bring our drinks over?’
Lucy smiles sweetly. She’ll get more out of Tiggy if she’s nice to her.
‘Sure,’ James says. He has a gauze dressing on his cheek; the area around it is scrubbed clean. ‘I’ll bring them.’
Brenda closes the lid of the first aid box and tries to catch Lucy’s eye. We need to watch her, the look seems to say. Lucy agrees.
Because Lucy’s real mission here is to uncover someone’s big secret – which, if she achieves it, will not only land her a scoop (ever and always a goal) but conveniently overshadow whatever might yet be mined from her own dark past.
Amelia
‘How are you feeling now?’ Amelia asks Tiggy, after giving her a few moments to relax on the sunlounger.
Tiggy offers her a weak smile. ‘I’m OK. Thank you.’ She glances over at the bar, where the others are chatting and pretending not to look their way. ‘I’m glad you suggested we come over here. Everyone was being very kind, but, well . . . it’s all just a bit overwhelming. Everyone seeing that memory, in their heads. I can’t begin to understand how that works . . .’
‘Memory?’ Amelia frowns. ‘It wasn’t you though, was it? That’s what you said. Someone’s faked the scene, and they’ve managed to implant it in anyone who’s wearing one of those ear things. Just like the one of Giles at the visitor centre.’
Tiggy is silent. She won’t make eye contact. ‘Look, I didn’t want to say anything over there, with all the others. I . . .’ She hesitates, trying to find the words. ‘I’m not sure who to trust yet. I mean, I had a nice chat with Brenda earlier, but I know I was the one doing all the talking. James seems nice. I’m just not sure yet about Scott. And as for Lucy . . .’
Amelia looks at the bar again. Lucy is putting two cups onto a tray. She obviously senses Amelia’s gaze, and quickly turns away. The others seem to be engrossed in something that Scott is saying. He’s explaining something, pointing at things. James is nodding.
‘What’s wrong with Lucy?’ she says.
Tiggy groans. ‘Where do I start? She’s a gossip columnist. If there can be any more of a low-life profession than that . . . although, hang on, isn’t James a paparazzo?’ Tiggy glares at the two of them. ‘God, they probably know each other, don’t they? They’re both here to soak up our grubby little secrets. Urgh. I want to go home now.’ She shouts up to the sky. ‘If you’re listening, Big Brother, can you come out of your secret hidey-hole and get me the hell out of here, please?’ She puffs out a breath and crosses her arms over her chest, bringing her knees up and burrowing her face down in the same way she’s done every time she’s been upset before.
‘I’m not sure James is a paparazzo as such,’ Amelia says. ‘He hasn’t really spoken about it. And you know, I haven’t seen him take one single photograph.’
Tiggy’s head flips up. ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? He’ll wait until you take your top off or something. Bloody leeches, the lot of them.’
‘I’ve really no plans to take my top off,’ Amelia says, puzzled. ‘Listen. Why don’t you just tell me about this party. These girls. The scene that was projected might not be real, but I have a feeling that you were there . . . that something might’ve happened.’
Tiggy drops her legs over the edge of the lounger and twists round to face her. ‘What, you don’t believe me now? You think I hurt her? You think I’m capable of pushing a champagne flute into someone’s face? Some awful bitch’s face? Some awful bitch who, along with her hideous bitch friends, had been taunting me, bullying me, goading me – about Giles, about his behaviour, about me, about my job, my family . . . my looks. Telling me all the time that I’m ugly, I’m not good enough?’ Her face is bright red now, and the words come out in a stream of angry spittle. ‘You actually think I did that?’
Amelia looks at the others, who are all watching with interest now. ‘Did you?’ she asks quietly. ‘You didn’t tell me about the glass before. You said there was an angry scuffle . . . I mean, I knew you were holding something back, but what you describe – the glass in her face – seems . . . extreme.’
There is a long silence, and Amelia starts to feel she’s gone too far. Her heart flutters, waiting.
Tiggy drops her head into her hands. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I did do that. I did glass her. It was this moment of pure rage. That thing people say about the red mist descending? It’s true. It’s actually true.’
Amelia swallows. Although she’d started to suspect it, she’s still struggling to believe that this small, vulnerable girl could be capable of such a violent act. She glances across and sees that James has picked up the tray and is about to bring their coffees over. Their eyes meet and she gives him a small shake of her head, and he stops, setting the tray down on the bar. ‘Let’s go back to the others, shall we?’ A shiver passes over her. Suddenly she is desperate not to be alone with Tiggy.
Tiggy shrugs. ‘Are you going to tell them?’
The vulnerability is here again, and it’s hard to compute. Maybe it was a one-off. Amelia shakes her head. ‘Not right now. I don’t think it would help anything, would it?’
Tiggy whispers a ‘thanks’ as they walk across the sand.
‘Hey, you’re back,’ Scott says, swivelling round on his stool. ‘We were just chatting about this place, trying to work out what we’re doing here. It’s not really what anyone expected, right? Any more word from Giles yet?’
Tiggy shakes her head.
James opens his mouth to speak as Scott swivels round again, and then stops. ‘Hey, did you hear that?’ He peers at the corner of the hut. ‘I thought I heard it before, but then I convinced myself I’d imagined it.’