for what had happened.
The mood had lightened a little after the talk about Janey, but the elephant, although acknowledged, hadn’t gone anywhere.
‘Hey, Miss Katie. You OK?’ Alisha asked.
Katie nodded and gave her a kind smile. ‘Of course. How are you?’
‘I’m peachy. You looked a million miles away.’
‘I’m fine, I promise – just sleeping with my eyes open,’ Katie said, sweeping her hair off her face. ‘Today’s been a long day.’
As if on cue, the unmistakeable, tall silhouette of Ben ambled over the sand towards them. As much as she’d love to be a fly on the wall of whatever was about to happen, Alisha had no
desire to play the gooseberry.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna get ready for bed.’
Katie took a deep breath, clocking Ben at the same time. ‘I’ll be in in a minute.’
Alisha walked over and kissed her on the head, noticing that Katie still used the same shampoo – it smelled like toffee. It was a reminder of how close they’d been once upon a time.
Alisha wasn’t sure they were any more. The gesture felt awkward. It was as though Janey had been the stitching holding them together. After she jumped, everyone fell to pieces, tumbling miles
apart in different directions.
Alisha turned and left Katie alone with the tide and the embers – and Ben. As she passed Ben, she gave him a smile of encouragement but continued towards the villa. Her flip-flops clacked
on the stone tiles as she climbed the stairs, allowing her fingers to brush the hedgerow that grew along the perimeter.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a sleek green lizard dart under the cover of a flat stone, quicker than lightning, and she made a mental note to try to photograph the little fella tomorrow
if she could find him. She was getting accustomed to doing things alone – it was starting to feel like that was her lot in life.
When she arrived at the top terrace, she paused before the sliding doors and looked back at the bonfire. Ben was nestled beside Katie, his arm around her shoulders. Obviously, Alisha
couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were deep in sombre conversation, both shaking their heads with down-turned mouths and furrowed brows.
Then Katie rested her weary head on Ben’s shoulder and, with his free hand, he stroked her hair.
Alisha sighed. She felt happy for her friend and, at the same time, utterly, utterly lonely.
SCENE 8 – RYAN
P erhaps it was the wine or maybe it was the whir of the air-conditioner, but Ryan couldn’t sleep. Gritty black-and-white flashbacks filled
his head – fast edits to confuse yet tantalise the audience. Hundreds of disturbing, violent scenarios played out in his mind’s eye however much he tried to block them. He pictured
Janey’s last minutes at the top of the cliff. Did she fight? Had she been dead already when she’d got there? He imagined a lone car parked in the hotel car park with the boot open. He
saw a figure, shrouded in black, take Janey’s body out of the trunk and drag her to the edge of the cliff.
He rolled over, making a ‘hmph’ noise. Who was he kidding? It had been suicide. His overactive brain was making up stories. Stupid and illogical Janey’s death may have been,
but it had been the final episode so someone had had to die. Those were just the rules of television – the big finish.
He rolled over, the thin, sweaty sheet becoming tangled in his bare legs. He was hot and bothered. With a sigh he rolled off the bed and opened his bedroom door. Not turning any lights on, he
crept past the other bedrooms. The air smelled of night-breath and he could hear Greg gently snoring alongside Erin, the lucky cow.
He tiptoed into the lounge where Ben was sprawled face-down on the sofa-bed. Like Ryan, he wore only his boxers and moonlight filtered through the gossamer drapes onto the smooth canyon in the
centre of his back. It looked hot – even though Ryan didn’t fancy Ben in the
The mood had lightened a little after the talk about Janey, but the elephant, although acknowledged, hadn’t gone anywhere.
‘Hey, Miss Katie. You OK?’ Alisha asked.
Katie nodded and gave her a kind smile. ‘Of course. How are you?’
‘I’m peachy. You looked a million miles away.’
‘I’m fine, I promise – just sleeping with my eyes open,’ Katie said, sweeping her hair off her face. ‘Today’s been a long day.’
As if on cue, the unmistakeable, tall silhouette of Ben ambled over the sand towards them. As much as she’d love to be a fly on the wall of whatever was about to happen, Alisha had no
desire to play the gooseberry.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna get ready for bed.’
Katie took a deep breath, clocking Ben at the same time. ‘I’ll be in in a minute.’
Alisha walked over and kissed her on the head, noticing that Katie still used the same shampoo – it smelled like toffee. It was a reminder of how close they’d been once upon a time.
Alisha wasn’t sure they were any more. The gesture felt awkward. It was as though Janey had been the stitching holding them together. After she jumped, everyone fell to pieces, tumbling miles
apart in different directions.
Alisha turned and left Katie alone with the tide and the embers – and Ben. As she passed Ben, she gave him a smile of encouragement but continued towards the villa. Her flip-flops clacked
on the stone tiles as she climbed the stairs, allowing her fingers to brush the hedgerow that grew along the perimeter.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a sleek green lizard dart under the cover of a flat stone, quicker than lightning, and she made a mental note to try to photograph the little fella tomorrow
if she could find him. She was getting accustomed to doing things alone – it was starting to feel like that was her lot in life.
When she arrived at the top terrace, she paused before the sliding doors and looked back at the bonfire. Ben was nestled beside Katie, his arm around her shoulders. Obviously, Alisha
couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were deep in sombre conversation, both shaking their heads with down-turned mouths and furrowed brows.
Then Katie rested her weary head on Ben’s shoulder and, with his free hand, he stroked her hair.
Alisha sighed. She felt happy for her friend and, at the same time, utterly, utterly lonely.
SCENE 8 – RYAN
P erhaps it was the wine or maybe it was the whir of the air-conditioner, but Ryan couldn’t sleep. Gritty black-and-white flashbacks filled
his head – fast edits to confuse yet tantalise the audience. Hundreds of disturbing, violent scenarios played out in his mind’s eye however much he tried to block them. He pictured
Janey’s last minutes at the top of the cliff. Did she fight? Had she been dead already when she’d got there? He imagined a lone car parked in the hotel car park with the boot open. He
saw a figure, shrouded in black, take Janey’s body out of the trunk and drag her to the edge of the cliff.
He rolled over, making a ‘hmph’ noise. Who was he kidding? It had been suicide. His overactive brain was making up stories. Stupid and illogical Janey’s death may have been,
but it had been the final episode so someone had had to die. Those were just the rules of television – the big finish.
He rolled over, the thin, sweaty sheet becoming tangled in his bare legs. He was hot and bothered. With a sigh he rolled off the bed and opened his bedroom door. Not turning any lights on, he
crept past the other bedrooms. The air smelled of night-breath and he could hear Greg gently snoring alongside Erin, the lucky cow.
He tiptoed into the lounge where Ben was sprawled face-down on the sofa-bed. Like Ryan, he wore only his boxers and moonlight filtered through the gossamer drapes onto the smooth canyon in the
centre of his back. It looked hot – even though Ryan didn’t fancy Ben in the
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