‘Right,’ Scott joins in. ‘Come on, Amelia. It’s not like you don’t know what you did – give the rest of us a peek at your rotten core.’
‘What about you, Scott?’ James says. ‘I don’t recall seeing your memory yet.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Scott says, with a small laugh. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re saving the best for last.’
Amelia tightens her headlamp and switches it on. ‘Guys, come on,’ she says, trying to take control. ‘I think we need to get going. It’s not far now. Let’s just get to the house and see what happens next.’
‘Oh,’ Lucy says, ‘so that’s a no then, Amelia? Not going to be sharing your little secret?’
‘Let’s just get to the house,’ she repeats tightly, barely able to get the words past her constricting throat.
Lucy makes a disgusted sound, but drops it – at least for now.
‘Maybe the cops’ll be there.’ Scott pulls on his waterproof jacket. It’s too cold now to go outside with just shorts and a T-shirt; his sweater is long gone. ‘They’ll be there to check things out, after Harvey called an ambulance for Giles and Brenda, right?’
Lucy shakes her head. ‘I doubt that. We’re just guinea pigs, aren’t we? They’re going to give us a slap-up meal, say thanks for our time, then pay us off and tell us to keep our traps shut.’ She flicks her headlamp on. ‘That’s what I think, anyway. I bet the others are all being pampered as we speak.’
‘Even Brenda?’ Amelia zips up her jacket.
‘Especially Brenda. OK, so they left it a bit longer than they should’ve, but of course they were coming for her. Of course they have the medication she needs to get better. Right? I mean, what’s the alternative? We’ve all said this: Giles called it right from the start. It’s a game. They kicked it off with a fake plane crash, but none of us reacted. So they stepped it up—’
‘Oh man, you’re right!’ Scott says, grinning. ‘The clues were right there at the start. He’s a goddamn games designer! That’s why he disappeared early on. He’s in on it all – I’d say Tiggy was part of it too. She was too calm when Giles’s body washed up like that.’
‘What do you mean, his body?’ James says. ‘Are you saying it wasn’t his body at all? That this is all a big, stupid hoax?’
Lucy laughs. ‘Have any of you seen that slasher flick called April Fool’s Day? This bunch of teens head out to an island, and they start getting bumped off one by one, until there’s one girl left – you know, that usual crap. Anyway, she’s traumatised, crying her eyes out, she’s just seen all her friends get horribly mutilated . . . then she goes into this room and they’re all there going “Surprise!” because the whole thing was just some big elaborate stunt. Seriously? One of the sickest things I’ve ever seen. Can you imagine?’
‘You think this is what’s happening here?’ Amelia crosses her arms, frowns. ‘It’s all just a joke?’
Lucy shrugs. ‘Has to be. What did the invite say? “Luxury island adventure” or something like that? And it’s been nothing of the sort. Top secret. Limited info. Then all this weird tech stuff . . . which, I have to say, I still can’t explain. There’s no doubt that my big secret is real. We’ve all confessed the same, right? Well, except you, Amelia. We’re still waiting for that.’
‘We’re waiting for Scott’s too,’ Amelia snaps, turning away from the cave and letting her headlamp shine a path ahead. She starts walking and James catches her up, leaving Lucy to continue to wax lyrical with her theory, a few paces behind – with Scott avidly agreeing and adding his own thoughts on it all. They sound happy, now that they’ve convinced themselves it’s a game. Scott is talking about the Michael Douglas movie now. The Game was a genius piece of cinema, to be fair. So realistic. So terrifying.
‘You don’t agree, do you?’ James says quietly.
They are walking at a steady pace, being careful to follow the lamplight. On their right, the sea is barely visible, just a dark expanse with occasional breaking white waves, and that rhythmic lull as they crash into the rocks.
‘I want to believe it,’ she says. ‘It’s just that . . . well, I thought I had it worked out earlier. A very different scenario to the one that Lucy and Scott are painting right now. One that involves my big secret. Someone I knew – a long time ago.’
He doesn’t look at her. ‘But why? Everyone’s got a horrible secret. We’re all the same . . . what makes you think otherwise?’
She frowns, unsure about whether to say more. She glances across at the blinking lights of the bigger island in the distance. She wants to be wrong, but the longer she’s been here, the more her own long-buried memories have pushed their way to the surface. It sounds narcissistic, but it makes sense. She’s the only one who has a real link to this place. All that Famous Five stuff had swung it for her in her mind. This is about George, trying to get a message to her. She knows it. But she also knows that if she says it out loud she’ll sound crazy.
James lays a hand on her arm. ‘You don’t have to tell me. It’s obviously not going to be forced out of you, like it has been for us.’
‘That’s the thing. That’s why I’m sure I’m right and Lucy is wrong. You see . . . I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my tracker didn’t work. I think our host wanted me to remember it all for myself.’ She sighs. ‘That’s why I’m sure this is all about me. And the rest of you . . . the rest of you are just pawns.’
James looks back at the other two, and she does the same. They’ve got their arms linked and they’re walking carefully, laughing at something. Both sure now that everything is going to be OK. ‘Well, whatever you do,’ James says, dropping his gaze, ‘don’t tell the others.’
‘Oh?’
He looks like he wants to say more, then he stops, shakes his head. ‘Forget I said anything.’
She frowns. She wants him to continue. Wouldn’t it be better if she told the others now? At least then they could arrive at the house together, safe in the knowledge that everything will be fine, and that their secrets will be safe from the wider world. Because they might not know it yet, but Amelia does. This is all just a game. The host is showing off – toying with them all. Because the host doesn’t care about them or what they’ve done.
The host only cares about Amelia.
She stares at James from the corner of her eye, taking in his expression. For a moment, she thinks he looks scared. ‘James . . .’
His expression shifts again. Then he points at something up ahead. ‘Look!’
She follows his line of sight and she can see what he’s pointing at. Right there in front of them. Nestled into a dip in the wide expanse of dark, undulating grassland. Smoke from a chimney. Lights.
They’ve made it to the big house, at last.
Amelia
T - 1
The house looms bright before them. Hidden away from the rest of the island in this dip, with its own small bay. The lights around the building give it an eerie glow, and the water rolling up to the private beach twinkles in the moonlight. The big house is certainly that. Painted white, with ornate pillars on either side of the huge doorway. Two large windows split up by a grid of tiny frames. The interior light is muted, the view in obscured slightly by gauzy fabric hung at the windows. If it wasn’t so dark outside, it’s possible you wouldn’t be able to see inside at all – but as they get closer, Amelia makes out shapes and shadows in the window to the left, the outline of various pieces of furniture and occasional movement inside. Behind the window to the right all is still.