‘Who do you think I am?’ The woman smiled.
I gasped. ‘Polly? Are you Polly?’ The woman who had been more jealous of Bethany at university than even I had. My head was reeling and, with one eye on the gun, I moved backward. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
She smiled, a demonic smile. ‘We finally meet again, Sophie. I killed your friend and now I want you dead.’ She flung the gun from side to side as she talked, my eyes never leaving it. ‘And now I have your precious daughter who frankly deserves a better mother.’
I screamed, my hand flying to my mouth. It was hard to believe this woman was capable of murder, but I saw it now, that look in her eyes. She was more than capable. She was crazy, obsessed with me. Obsessed with Bethany. And now she had Amy.
‘Where’s Amy? Polly, where’s Amy?’
She didn’t speak, just looked at me: all-knowing. We stared at each other: the past rushing at us from all directions.
‘It was you! All along, it was you … I told you to leave me and Bethany alone. And after Bethany died, you just disappeared. I thought it was over.’
‘It’s time you realised that you can’t always get rid of your demons.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I couldn’t believe, after twenty years, I was staring into the face of the woman who had stalked me and Bethany, who had decided she wanted a relationship like we had. Like sisters. I had found a box of photos on my bed, once, of me and Bethany. Every single photo she had taken was of us together. The woman was nuts.
‘Oh come on, Sophie. You know what I’m talking about. Your demons. The drink, the drugs, the counting to three. Like that’s going to keep the demons at bay. Then there’s me.’ She smiled. ‘Your other demon. Your stalker.’ She laughed, it was a hollow, bitter laugh.
‘You are no longer a part of my life. You have not been a part of my life for twenty years,’ I shouted, despite my legs buckling with terror.
Polly sneered at me. ‘The girl who can do no wrong at the firm despite turning up to work drunk, despite having endless time off for therapy.’
‘Where’s Amy?’ I moved forward, I needed to get to my daughter. ‘Tell me she’s safe.’
‘She’s not safe. But she wasn’t safe with you either, was she?’
She was enjoying this: it was the thrill.
‘I think we should go upstairs to where it all began,’ she said, her voice strung out, her eyes bulging with excitement. ‘A trip down memory lane, you know?’
‘You’re sick.’ I felt another rush of nausea.
She strode toward me, laughing, almost deliriously, and I stepped backward, falling hard against the stairs. Dragging me up, as if I weighed no more than a feather, she turned me around and pressed the gun to my temple. ‘Let’s go see where it all began.’
I gulped and shuffled forward.
‘Come on, go,’ she said, shoving me up the stairs, the gun knocking the side of my head as we moved.
‘Where are you taking me? To see Amy?’
She laughed. ‘I told you. She’s as good as dead.’
I thrashed against her. ‘No! She can’t be. You never said that.’
She turned coy. ‘Didn’t I? Oh, because that’s what I meant.’
We reached the landing. I knew she wanted me to head toward the light but I couldn’t. Images of Bethany rushed at me. She pushed me hard toward the door, open just a crack, the light stuttering.
I flinched as she jabbed me once more with the gun. Polly told me to get moving and she propelled me into the room with such force I fell to the floor.
The last twenty years disappeared in that moment.
‘Sophie, get up,’ she snarled.
Scrambling to get to my feet, my head reeled, my eyes fixated on the spot where Bethany had died.
‘Where’s Amy?’ I shouted. I wanted to get away from there, from the memories of the men looking at us with lascivious smiles. ‘I need to see Amy.’ I took my phone out. ‘I’m going to ring the police.’
Polly shoved the gun in my face. ‘Put that thing away.’
‘No, this needs to stop.’
She scowled and held the gun up again, her once pretty face demonic. ‘I know how to use this thing, you know?’
‘Listen.’ Fear pulsated through my body as I realised then exactly where Amy was. An image of Bethany by a cliff spun to the forefront of my mind. ‘I’m going to the cliff. That’s where she is, isn’t it?’ I needed Polly to take me to the exact location so I went on, played into her psychology. ‘I want proof that Amy is …’ I paused, unable to say the next word. ‘Dead.’
She laughed again, almost overexcitedly. I realised this was all a big game to her. She was enjoying every moment.
‘Polly,’ I said, ‘it doesn’t matter if I don’t ring the police anyway because they will be here any second now. DI Ward isn’t stupid, she will be onto you.’
She stared at me. ‘No, she won’t. I’ve managed so far.’
‘You’re mad, I tell you!’ The familiar ringing had started up in my ears again, I felt faint but I had to remain strong. I had to get to Amy.
‘What did you say? Did you call me mad?’ Anger replaced Polly’s excitement.
‘Polly.’ I came toward her, adrenaline pumping through my veins. ‘Just show me exactly where my daughter is.’
‘Yes, OK,’ she said and wiped the sweat from the top of her lip. ‘You’re right, we need to go to the cliff, let the fun really begin.’
Bile rose in my throat as I thought about the many stories I had heard about the cliffs; folktales and horror stories passed down from one university generation to another, from one local to the next.
Without warning, I felt the gun in the small of my back and looked over my shoulder at Polly.
‘Go.’
I was guided out of the room, Polly hanging back threatening to shoot if I ran; adopting her acting role once more.
‘For god’s sake,’ I screamed at her. ‘We need to go faster!’
We stepped out of the house. The line of pine trees bent against the force of the wind, the rain slashing across our faces.
‘Come on!’ I shouted to her over the driving rain. ‘Take me to see Amy.’
‘Where’s your car?’
‘Up on the hill, but I’ve run out of fuel,’ I said, my voice shrill. ‘Please, Polly, come on!’
Polly shrugged, a picture of calm. ‘There’s a canister of petrol over she – there.’ She pointed, her face lighting up with an excited smile. ‘I was going to torch this place. You know, erase history.’
I ran to where she pointed and picked up the metal can. It was heavy and I stumbled forward under its weight. I looked back at Polly who stood unmoving. ‘Are you coming?’
Begrudgingly she followed me up the hill as I jogged then walked back to the car, my breathing ragged. The rain came at us and the cold, coastal wind whipped around our already soaking bodies.
I snatched at the petrol cap, its smooth, wet surface impossible to grip. After another try, I managed to unscrew it and, lifting the petrol canister, poured the fuel in. Polly laughed delightedly as the canister kept slipping from my grasp. Once it was empty, I threw it to the side and I clambered into the car, indicating Polly to get behind the wheel.
She did as she was told but then turned, and looked at me. ‘Actually, you know what, you drive.’
Exasperated I got out and we exchanged places. Polly climbed in the back seat.
‘Polly, we don’t have time to be messing about, just tell me exactly where my daughter is,’ I shouted, my nerves jagged. ‘We’ll drive there now. This whole thing needs to stop.’
She laughed as she shut the door. ‘She’s by the cliff, like you guessed. But you would know that, wouldn’t you?’ She smiled, ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘She’s tied up, right on the edge.’ Polly snorted. ‘A bit like you.’
Horror shot through me. ‘No! But Amy can’t even swim.’
I started the car and after it sputtered to life, I sped off.
‘Which way?’
‘Go left at the end.’
I gave Polly a sidelong look, she was laughing hysterically and I realised she was totally out of control.