26

She found the collar caught on the side gate, the lead still attached.

In the back garden Stella petted the dog.

Mae slipped the collar over its head.

‘What’s going on?’ Stella said.

‘I’m taking the dog back.’

Stella shook her head, the tears filling her eyes. She tried to take Mae’s hand.

‘Please,’ she said.

‘It’s not ours, Stella.’

‘No, Mae. Please let me keep her. There’s not long, they don’t even miss her.’

Mae said nothing.

‘I put up posters,’ Stella said, desperately. ‘Mrs Baxter took me out after the party and we put up posters. I did what you said, but no one has come for her.’

Their grandmother stood in the doorway. ‘There’s not long, Margaret.’

‘You want to pay to feed it?’ Mae fired back. She pulled on the lead. The dog got up but tried to pull back towards Stella.

‘I hate you,’ Stella said. ‘You’re mean and everyone knows it and that’s why no one asked you to the Final and that’s why Abi moved away.’

Their grandmother leaned down and held on to Stella as she sobbed.

Mae walked in silence, the dog pulling back, her muscles burned, the last days had taken a toll.

The collar gave an address on Parade Hill, at the top of Ocean.

She stopped as a truck rolled through the gates of the Prince house.

She saw Hugo directing it, met his eye and he waved her over. She tied the dog to the gate.

‘You all right?’ he said.

She nodded.

‘Can’t believe you saved her like that.’

‘Neither can I,’ Mae said.

She followed him down the side of the house. Past the glass garage that housed the rare Ferrari, and the swimming pool, lit from beneath, the blue so heavenly Mae fought an urge to dive straight in, sink to the bottom and wait out the next weeks.

The hole was cavernous now. Hugo lifted a barrier and stepped onto the metal plinth, motioned and she stood beside him.

He pressed a green button and they gripped the rail tightly as the lift groaned and creaked. It took them down, past packed earth, dense rock torn by mechanical hands. Lights had been punched into the stone and shone out eerily.

It stopped far below and Mae craned her neck to see sunlight.

The bunker.

Steel like a vault.

A heavy door was propped open. Metal walls, secondary power from generators as tall as Hugo. They walked through the entranceway and it opened out to a sprawl of harried workmen, electricians with clipboards, an architect with measuring tape.

‘Looks expensive,’ Mae said.

‘I heard my dad talking about trying to offload the chalet in St Moritz.’

‘Jesus, no,’ Mae said, a hand to her mouth.

Ahead they came to a small group. Hugo walked over to his father, who stood with other men but dismissed them when he saw his son.

‘You’ve been with Hunter this morning? You weren’t home,’ Jon Prince said.

‘Gym.’

His father nodded at that, then glanced over at Mae. ‘You just bringing girls down here, Hugo? Remember what I said.’ He gripped Hugo’s arm and squeezed it so hard she saw Hugo flinch. And then Jon Prince seemed to remember they weren’t alone. He aimed a tight smile at Mae. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, there’s no way planning can stop me now.’

He was taller than his son, perma-tanned, his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. He pressed a hand to Mae’s lower back, must have felt her tense but didn’t move it.

He spoke of secondary air, a year’s worth of supplies, the ability to compost, the infrastructure to be self-sufficient.

‘I think we’ll stop her. But if we don’t, we’re prepared.’ They looked at the kitchen, pared-back stainless steel, elegant. Survival would not be basic.

‘How many people can you fit in here?’ Mae asked.

‘It depends on how long you want the air supply to last,’ Jon Prince said. ‘The less inside, the better.’

‘What’s that room?’ She pointed.

‘That’s for the Ferrari. It’ll likely be the only one left in the world soon enough. Of course there’s others building underground. The Chinese government. The Russians. Basically anyone with the means. But that car. They only built a handful.’

‘It won’t save you,’ Mae said, and the men around stopped, Hugo and his father watched her, the noise cut to dead silence. ‘It won’t even buy you time.’

A moment passed till Jon Prince laughed. And then the other men joined him as Hugo wandered towards the lift.

As Mae turned to follow, Jon Prince stopped her. ‘You were the one with Hugo when … the Manton girl.’

Mae nodded.

Up close he was even bigger, his eyes even colder. Something about the way he looked at her left her fighting a shiver.

‘You were friends with her?’

Mae did not answer.

‘But she didn’t say anything beforehand? She didn’t mention any names, people she thought might have upset her?’

He stood so close Mae took a step backwards and found herself pressed against the steel wall.

‘You see, Mae. Sometimes girls your age, they see things that aren’t really there.’

‘Pretty sure girls my age see just fine.’

He looked over at Hugo, something passed between them.

Maybe Jon Prince could see the look on her face, because he stepped back and smiled.

Hugo walked her back to the gate.

‘Your father,’ Mae said, ‘does he know Abi’s dad?’

‘Who do you think is building the bunker?’

She watched him head back in, then turned and walked the dog along Parade Hill.

The steady hiss of sprinklers.

At first she didn’t know if she imagined the music, so beautiful she stopped still and moved towards the kerb.

It floated from the open window of the pretty cottage behind. Mae sat down on the kerb, closed her eyes and breathed deep. Some nights she could barely breathe. She thought of her parents, wondered if they would be proud of her but knew deep down they would not. She was not a girl to be proud of. In her bag was a small bottle of vodka she had stolen from the supermarket in Newport. The woman at the checkout had been too old and too trusting, like the world was still good, like it had ever been good.

The music died. She smelled barbecue smoke.

Mae turned when she heard the gate open and watched as Sally Sweeny heaved a bin out in front of the house.

‘Hey,’ she said.

Sally startled, like she’d never had another kid so close to her home.

‘Mae,’ Sally said. ‘Is that Benjy?’

Sally knelt and stroked the dog.

‘I found him.’

‘He belongs to my neighbour Mr Leonard. He ran away during the fire at Candice’s house, must’ve got scared. I kind of hoped he wouldn’t come back. Mr Leonard is one of those people that takes out his problems on his dog.’

‘That music, what was it?’

‘Prelude in E minor. Chopin.’

‘It kind of broke my heart.’

Sally smiled sadly. ‘It’ll do that, Chopin. They played it at his funeral. He requested it.’

‘He had his own music played at his funeral. Badass.’

‘Who’s your friend?’

Mae saw Sally’s father at the door.

The cottage was beautiful. The roof thatched, the grass neat. Mae opened the white gate and walked up the path, the sun hot on her neck.

There was a cross-stitch.

BLESS THIS HOUSE.

The man was short, his blonde hair parted neatly at the side.

‘I’m Sally’s stepfather, Oliver. Please come in.’

Inside, white walls and floral curtains, dark beams crossed the ceiling. She smelled apple pie.

Sally’s mother appeared in the kitchen doorway and stroked the dog, gave it a bowl of something and watched it curl up. She wore a red apron and a smile that matched her husband’s. ‘I’m Barbara, but everyone calls me Barbie.’

Looking at her perfectly styled hair and make-up, Mae could believe it.

She followed them through the kitchen.

More signs on the walls.

AS WE FORGIVE THOSE WHO TRESPASS AGAINST US.

FORGIVENESS IS THE GREATEST GIFT.

LOVE. COMPASSION. FORGIVENESS. ACCEPTANCE.

The garden sprawled with flowers, so many Mae was dizzy with the colours. Across was a tall maple tree, a swing hung from the branch. Mae followed Sally over.

‘They suspended you then,’ Mae said.

‘Totally worth it.’

Through the bushes she caught sight of the neighbour’s kids, running through a sprinkler and laughing.

‘Are you here to convert me, Mae?’

‘Yes.’

Sally smiled, squinting into the sun. ‘This swing, it’s been here since I was small. You ever wish you didn’t have to grow up?’

‘It was a race when we were young, to be the first to go with a boy, drink, smoke. Now we want time to stop.’

‘Maybe it has. Maybe it stopped ten years ago. I heard about Sullivan Reed.’

‘Yeah. You think it was him?’

‘It doesn’t look good.’

Barbie and Oliver beckoned them over.

They’d already laid a place at the table for Mae. She couldn’t say no. Oliver stood by the barbecue, flipping burgers.

Mae sat beside Sally and watched her parents. It was orchestrated, a picture-perfect snapshot of family life.

Barbie brought out sides, steaming potatoes, salad and buns. She touched her husband’s back each time she passed him. Mae wondered about intimacy, how it could endure, how they could be so content. It was like they hadn’t heard, or didn’t want to know.

Pork chops. Sausages and burgers. Chicken legs and great hunks of steak.

Sally filled her plate before her parents had poured the wine. Started eating before Barbie bowed her head to say grace.

Mae sat and watched as Sally methodically worked her way through the food. Ketchup spilled down her chin, mayonnaise streaked down one cheek.

Sally’s parents exchanged looks but neither said anything.

Barbie tucked a napkin into her top and nibbled on a rib.

‘I saw the posters in town,’ Barbie said. ‘This dance then …’ Sally shovelled in a mouthful of potato. Barbie waited, watching, patient.

‘Have you got a date yet, Sally?’ Oliver said.

Sally ignored him, reached for a third burger and washed it down with a glass of Coke.

‘The school will still let her go, despite what she did to that poor girl’s hair,’ Barbie said.

‘The boys at school are arseholes,’ Mae said.

Sally aimed a grateful smile at her.

‘You’re still beautiful,’ Barbie said.

Sally worked on her third pork chop.

‘Maybe go easy on the food, we have company.’

‘Doesn’t bother me,’ Mae said.

Barbie stared at her daughter. ‘Gluttony is a sin.’

Sally stared right back as she bit a sausage in half.

‘I worry about you. You know she can barely sit behind the piano now. Has to stretch herself. Such talent and she’s intent on wasting it.’

Mae glanced at Sally, who looked about ready for Selena to hit.

‘You know I used to wake her at four, seven days a week. People think it’s a gift, to be able to play piano like that, to sing like Theodore does. But it’s earned, Mae.’

Mae watched Barbie as she spoke. She looked delicate but Mae could sense a toughness beneath. And Oliver, for his part, he sat there mute, like the conversation wasn’t happening.

‘Everyone’s talking about Sullivan Reed,’ Barbie said, shaking her head. ‘Did you know him, Mae? So sad what these kids are doing now. The drugs. All the alcohol. I heard about what happens at the beach at night. I’m just glad my Sally has her head screwed on right. Of course she’s too large to be invited out now.’

‘Actually,’ Mae said. ‘That’s why I came over. I was going to ask Sally to come over to my house to watch a movie tonight.’

‘Oh,’ Barbie said. ‘That would be nice, right, Sally? Sally doesn’t like to go out in the evening. Not even to church. Those kids by the beach, they can be so cruel if you’re …’ she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘a bit fat.’

Sally stared through her mother.

‘You know, I bought a painting from Sullivan Reed once,’ Barbie said.

‘The beach scene?’ Oliver said. ‘I did wonder where that had come from. But then I wondered about everything when I came home. I barely recognised Sally. But I know she’s still in there.’

‘Sullivan was actually very sweet. He was over the moon when I bought it.’

‘He works on commission,’ Sally said, her mouth full of coleslaw.

‘No. I think he was excited for the artist. It’s rare for people to care that much now. For someone to want to help someone else.’

‘He’s a murderer,’ Mae said.

Barbie took it in her stride. ‘Their sins and lawless acts will be forgotten. He’s a merciful God, Mae.’

Sally put down her food. ‘You know what else God said? An eye for an eye.’