Lost Innocence (30 page)

Alicia smiled. ‘Do you come here a lot?’ she asked.

‘Not so often now, but Marianne and I had our wedding reception here…Well, you know that because you came. Sadly, it’s gone downhill a bit since then. The food’s generally still good, but the place is looking tired, don’t you think? It could do with a major overhaul. I don’t know what the rooms are like, but I believe they’re still a few hundred quid a night, so I guess we have to hope the beds are comfortable and the facilities are good.’

‘I’m sure they’re excellent,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes on the menu. He’d surely never have made that remark if he’d known Craig and Sabrina used to come here.

‘Mum, they’ve got Parma ham with figs,’ Nat piped up.
‘That’s what she’ll have,’ he told Jolyon. ‘It’s one of her favourites.’

‘And brill,’ Alicia added, feeling certain it was what Craig would have chosen if it had been on the menu when he was here. She tried to imagine what Sabrina’s tastes were, until realising she was only hurting herself she put the menu down and picked up her drink.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, mainly because she loved listening to Nat talking about his ambitions, and felt proud of how closely he listened to Jolyon. This was the most animated she’d seen her son since Craig’s passing, and knowing it was his love of the law that was bringing him out of himself, she could only feel grateful to Jolyon for understanding Nat’s need and for being there in a way only a man – and a lawyer – could.

He was going to be all right, she told herself, when they finally drove away from the hotel with Jolyon’s affectionate farewells still ringing in their ears. She didn’t need to worry about him; he was a determined and intelligent young man with his path already carved out and enough people caring for him to make sure he stayed on it. It wasn’t that he didn’t need his father any more, because that would never be the case, but thanks to Robert’s invitation to the cricket, and Jolyon’s reassurances tonight, she was no longer feeling quite so weighted by the burden of trying to fill the gap alone.

The following night Georgie and Annabelle were jumping and gyrating with the crowd in the middle of the Copse. There were so many people there already that they were practically dancing as one, their bodies supple and sinewy, lit by darting lasers and shrouded in a viscous haze of fake fog. The beat was electric, thudding and pounding, buzzing through limbs, exploding in heads, jerking its victims in seizures of bliss, while the ground pulsated, the trees vibrated and the whole night came alive with sound. DJs and their high-tech wizardry formed a hexagon around the open glade, tossing, rotating and scratching the rhythm from jungle, to techno, to acid and gabba. A forest of arms reached towards the stars, fingers outstretched as though to catch
the electronic blades that fenced the black air. Substances were passing like candy, from Ecstasy, to mushrooms, to cannabis, LSD and cocaine. Empty vodka and sambuca bottles littered the undergrowth, along with Red Bull cans, alcopop cartons and cigarette packs. Couples writhed and laughed, screamed and howled, and disappeared like wraiths into the darker depths to discuss life, politics, the universe, or to make out till the moon faded to nothing and the sun came up like a tangerine cheese.

Annabelle had been rolling around Lovers’ Dip with Theo, and she was ready to go again. It was a night for sex, drugs, sounds and more sex. The boy dancing with her now was a god. He was rubbing himself against her and she raised her arms to let him right in. She loved his hands on her hips, shaking and grooving her, she wanted more, more, more.

Georgie slunk off with Carl.

Annabelle continued to dance. Katie and Catrina closed in on her. Melody appeared with Kennedy. Petra disappeared with a new friend. Archie was spreadeagled on the grass reciting poetry to the planets.

Georgie came back and put her arms round Annabelle.

‘I love you,’ she shouted in Annabelle’s ear.

‘I love you too,’ Annabelle shouted back. She took a joint that was passing, inhaled deeply and handed it on.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Georgie sang out at the top of her voice.

‘Where’s Carl?’ Annabelle yelled.

‘Who?’

‘
Carl
.’

‘Over there.’ Georgie waved an arm dreamily, then her head fell back as she laughed.

Annabelle yelped as the boy she’d been dancing with grabbed her from behind and turned her round.

‘I’m Neil. What’s your name?’ he shouted.

‘Princess Annabelle,’ she answered, shimmying into him.

He grinned and dropped to his knees, holding her hips as she gyrated into his face.

‘Are you into vodka?’ he yelled.

‘Bring it on,’ she yelled back.

He plunged into the crowd and she turned back to
Georgie. ‘This is amazing. I want to have sex with everyone, even you.’

Georgie howled like a banshee and pulling Annabelle into her arms she planted her mouth over hers. As they kissed their hands roamed one another’s bodies, and when someone pulled them apart another mouth found Annabelle’s. Then she was kissing someone else, and someone else again. The whole party was turning into a great big gorgeous orgy of kissing.

Neil found her again, and hooking her about the waist virtually carried her off into the trees. He had vodka and cannabis and a small supply of C. She drank and smoked and blinked back tears as she snorted the white stuff into her brain. He was kissing her and undressing her and she was loving it all. There were other people nearby, writhing in the grass. The music boomed and thwanged. It was all the way inside her, beating her heart, rushing her blood, pumping air in and out of her lungs. She was the music…

On the far side of the Copse Nat was holding a beer and watching the heaving, throbbing throng of dancers. Though the beat was drumming into his brain, and he was moving in rhythm, he felt detached, coldly sober and verging on anger at how hard he was finding it to get into. He’d been to raves before and had easily got off his face with the rest of them, but tonight it wasn’t happening. He wanted to let go, to end up so hammered and junked that he’d blend into the anonymous, sweating, pulsating mass of humanity. He wouldn’t know where he ended and the next person began. He could stop being him and float off somewhere into blissful ecstasy. The huge hole inside him would be filled up, the blackness would be lightened. No more questions, or doubts, or fears, everything would go back to the way it should be, the way it had been before.

He took another swig of beer, but it tasted foul. He tried the joint Simon handed him, and inhaled right down into his lungs, waiting for the steadying flow of calm. He dragged on it again and again. It wasn’t working. His tension was building. He wanted to yell and rage. Words he dared not speak were erupting inside him, screaming
through his brain, searing across his chest… Everything was wrong, nothing was right any more…

‘Talk to me, baby,’ someone murmured in his ear, but he didn’t hear.

He thought he knew her, but wasn’t sure and didn’t care. He was one of the trees in the wood, she was the ivy, creeping all over him, but easy to tear away. He stopped registering her. He couldn’t see any more. He couldn’t hear or speak. He could only feel the lights cutting him open like blades, and the emptiness inside that was growing and growing and filling with frustration and hate. What was the point of anything? The world was a meaningless place. He was useless, his mother was hurting, and his father wasn’t coming back…

As Annabelle danced back into the party she was jerking around with the beat, eyes half closed, arms outstretched, writhing around everyone she passed. She found Georgie with Theo and Cat, sprawled on the grass, punching hands and nodding heads to the hardcore sound. She sank down with them and grabbed a bottle of Bacardi.

‘Have you seen Nat yet?’ she slurred as Georgie fell against her.

Georgie’s arm carved a semicircle through the flashing air. ‘He’s over there, somewhere,’ she said, pointing nowhere in particular. ‘With Melody.’

Annabelle staggered to her feet.

‘Cool,’ Theo murmured, noticing her lack of panties.

Grinning, she lifted her hem to give him a better look. She’d left them in the grass. She didn’t need them any more.

She found Nat on the far side of the Copse with Melody draped around him. Simon was with a girl Annabelle had never seen before.

‘Hey,’ she drawled, almost lurching into Nat as she tried to drag Melody off him.

‘Hey yourself,’ Melody slurred, and put her head back on Nat’s shoulder.

Annabelle’s eyes bored into Nat’s. Flashes of red, green, yellow and blue sliced across their faces. Her lips curved in a smile as she lowered her gaze to his mouth.

He turned his head away to drink more beer.

Annabelle reached for Melody again and twirled her into the swaying mass of bodies. When she turned back Nat was walking away, picking a route through the dozens of glowsticks that had sprung up in the undergrowth like electronic mushrooms.

She went after him, keeping her distance, expecting him to look back, but he didn’t.
He knows I’m following. It’s what he wants. I love him, I love him, I love him.

She caught up with him on the bank over Lovers’ Dip. He was standing still, staring at nothing. The music remained a throbbing presence, sprinkled with talking and laughter. Bodies were all over the place, against trees, under bushes, sprawled out randomly in the grass.

Catching his hand she dragged him down into the dip. Gravity pulled him, but he didn’t stop at the bottom, he snatched his hand away and walked on.

‘Come on, you know you want to,’ she laughed, skipping after him.

He walked on, increasing his pace. He shouldn’t be too far from the bridge by now.

‘It’s only sex,’ she cried, trying to take his arm. ‘Let’s do it.’

He turned round to look at her, his face harsh with frustration. ‘What part of no don’t you understand?’ he demanded.

She laughed happily. ‘The part that’s a lie,’ she told him, and letting herself topple into him she encircled him with her arms and tried to kiss him.

Turning his head away, he grabbed her wrists and thrust her aside.

‘What’s wrong?’ she cried gaily. ‘Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re still a virgin.’

Ignoring her, he kept on going.

‘Why don’t you let me show you how to do it?’ she offered, dancing round in front of him. ‘Come on, we both know you want to…’

‘Get out of the way,’ he cut in roughly.

‘What’s the problem?’ she laughed. ‘If it was good enough for your dad and my mum, why shouldn’t it be for us? It’ll be like a generational carrying of the …’ She stopped as his hand closed like steel on her arm.

‘What are you talking about?’ he growled, but even as he asked the question memories were rushing and changing and falling like the flashing contents of a kaleidoscope into the base of his skull.

‘You’re lying,’
he raged in a tone that made her face drop.

‘Take it back,’ he roared. ‘Admit you’re lying.’ Tears were starting from his eyes.

‘Don’t,’ she cried as he tightened his grip on her arm. ‘Let me go,’ and shoving him away she turned to run, but her foot caught on a root and she crashed to the ground. Her buttocks were exposed, her legs were apart. She tried to get up, but he was on top of her, pinning her down. His hands circled her throat, squeezing and choking her.

She struggled to throw him off, but he was too heavy, she couldn’t move.

His rage and grief were out of control. He barely knew what he was doing. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything except hold her there.

‘Nat,’ she gasped. ‘Nat… Let me go. I…’

‘Take it back,’ he shouted, ‘take it back.’

The music boomed and throbbed; furious splinters of light sparked through trees, and still there was her, writhing beneath him, shouting, screaming, but all he could hear were the terrible words she’d spoken.

Chapter Thirteen

It was just after nine on Monday morning when Annabelle let herself into the kitchen.

Sabrina was sitting at the table, hanging on the line to BT, ready to tackle them over a decision to scrap rural phone booths. ‘You’re back early,’ she said to Annabelle, barely glancing up as she scanned her list of objections. ‘Did Georgie’s mum drop you off?’

It took a moment for her to realise that Annabelle was still standing in front of the table, saying nothing. She looked up and her insides slowly to turned to ice. ‘My God,’ she murmured, putting the phone down.

‘Don’t make a fuss,’ Annabelle said.

‘What’s happened to you?’ Sabrina rasped, so stunned by the injuries to her daughter’s face that her mind couldn’t function.

Annabelle tried to answer, but the words became mangled in her throat as she struggled not to cry.

‘You have to tell me,’ Sabrina urged, going to her and pushing back her hair to get a better look.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘What happened?’ Sabrina said forcefully. ‘You have to tell me.’

‘I – I was raped,’ Annabelle choked.

Sabrina froze with shock. ‘What do you mean?’ she said stupidly.

‘I was
raped
,’ Annabelle shouted. ‘Don’t you know what that means?’

‘Oh my God,’ Sabrina mumbled, starting to shake. This couldn’t be happening. They needed to start this again. ‘Are – are you sure?’ she stammered.

‘How can I not be sure, you idiot!’

‘Annabelle, stop,’ Sabrina cried, grabbing her as she turned to storm off. ‘I’m sorry. I – it’s…Are you OK?’

‘What do you think? Look at me.’

Sabrina was looking. Someone had attacked her baby and all she could think was that it couldn’t be true. ‘When did it happen?’ she asked.

‘On Saturday night.’

Sabrina’s eyes dilated. ‘But why are you only telling me now?’ she cried. ‘Where have you been?’

‘At Georgie’s. I couldn’t come home, because I was afraid you’d make a fuss.’

‘What, and now I’m not supposed to?’

‘No, I just… Don’t shout at me. It wasn’t my fault.’

Not realising she’d raised her voice, Sabrina wrapped Annabelle in her arms. ‘No, no of course it wasn’t,’ she said, feeling waves of horror coming over her. ‘Oh my baby, my poor baby.’ Tears were starting from her eyes. What was she going to do? How could she make this all right? ‘We have to call the police,’ she said decisively. ‘If someone’s hurt you…’