Dastardly Deeds (19 page)

‘
There
you are!’ said Tessa brightly. She was wearing a T-shirt that read
I
♡
 Santorini
. It stretched so tightly across her chest that the heart had turned into an elongated island.

‘Yes, here I am indeed.’

‘I saw you come up here before but then couldn’t find you. Are you in hiding?’

‘If I am, then not very well.’ I gave her a tight smile to soften the words. I couldn’t afford another dispute. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Well, I know this is weird.’ She paused, as if waiting for me to chime in with an assurance that it wasn’t. When this didn’t happen, she hurried on. ‘It’s just you’re the only person who would know … who’s been there. That is, I need your advice.’

I regarded her evenly. ‘You haven’t told him.’

‘No. Not yet.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘I mean, I
will
. Of course, I will. It’s just …’

‘You bitch.’

The voice, flat and harsh, came from behind Tessa. She spun around as I stared over her shoulder, both of us stunned into silence. Phoebe strode forward, coming to a halt beside Tessa. She was at least fifteen centimetres taller. Her eyes were focused on me.

‘You bitch. How
dare
you talk to me like that.’

I blinked. Her face was transformed, her eyes black pools of fury.

‘So I’m
stupid
? Offensive? A
sad
case of
desperate
?’

‘How dare
you
,’ I retorted, finding my tongue. My anger had reappeared instantly. ‘You accused me of attention-seeking! Of being some type of tramp!’

Her expression didn’t change. It was like she hadn’t heard me. ‘So people are trying to
avoid
me?’

‘Who said that?’ asked Tessa incredulously.

Phoebe pointed accusingly at me. ‘
She
did.’

‘Oh, Phoebe. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. Nell, tell her—’

‘I did mean it,’ I said stubbornly. ‘Every word.’

‘And my hair?’ Her finger continued to jab the air for a moment before falling. ‘My
hair
is ridiculous? Have you even
looked
in the mirror?’

‘At least I don’t look like a middle-aged reject from Woodstock!’

‘Now then.’ Tessa raised her hands soothingly. ‘If we just calm—’

‘
No
,’ said Phoebe, spitting the word out. ‘I
won’t
calm down. She has to
pay
.’

I heard Tessa gasp but didn’t realise why until I looked down. Astonishingly, astoundingly, Phoebe had picked up one of the dirty knifes from the low table. It was only a steak knife, and not terribly large, but the serrated edge glittered. She held it towards me, her knuckles white. Disbelief scrabbled at my throat.

‘Phoebe, put down the knife,’ said Tessa shakily.

‘Shut up.’ Phoebe did not even glance in her direction. Her eyes were fixed on me. ‘So I’m a middle-aged reject, hey? Well, I
hate
women like you. You think you can have anything you want.’ Her voice trembled with fury. ‘You think you
deserve
anything you want.’

‘Actually, no, I don’t,’ I said, surprised by the reasonableness of my tone. My stomach was jelly. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’

‘
Crap!
’ she shouted, the word like a bullet. She pointed the knife as if it was her finger. ‘You ponce around, just expecting everyone to pay you attention. And they do! Then you
flirt
with them, leading them
on
, and never caring that there are some people around who
really
care! You’re all the same.’ Her voice broke on the last word. ‘You
bitches
.’

Comprehension dawned. It probably would have dawned earlier if not for bizarre nature of the situation. My eyes widened. It was almost as unbelievable as the knife. ‘You … you did it.’

‘Shut up.’

‘You killed Anna and April.’

‘I said shut up! But yes, I did it! Happy now? They were just like you.’ Her mouth curled into a sneer. ‘Attention-seeking. Selfish. Picking up men and spitting them out. They deserved it.’

‘And Kim Satchwell? You thought she was me. Or Deb. Did she deserve it too?’

She rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Tessa was looking from one of us to the other, with her gaze occasionally dropping to take in the knife. It took longer for her to realise the implications of our exchange. ‘What?
You
killed April? In Rome?’

‘Climb over the railing,’ said Phoebe suddenly.

Tessa took a step backwards and almost immediately the knife flashed in her direction. She stopped.

‘Climb over the railing,’ repeated Phoebe. ‘Now.’

‘Let her go,’ I said as I tried to gauge the distance between us, and whether I could take her down. She was a big woman. ‘Tessa has nothing to do with this. And she’s pregnant.’

Phoebe flicked a glance down towards Tessa’s stomach. ‘That’s too bad,’ she said, sounding regretful. ‘I
am
sorry. Honestly, I didn’t even know you’d be here. But hang on – didn’t
you
sleep with
her
husband?’ She pointed the knife at me. ‘That’s pretty slutty behaviour. Which makes you two peas in a pod anyway.’

‘It most certainly doesn’t,’ I said pedantically. ‘I haven’t slept with
her
husband.’

Tessa grimaced. ‘I don’t actually have one.’

‘Well, when you do, I promise I won’t sleep with him. Especially if it’s Darcy.’

‘Shut
up
!’ yelled Phoebe. She took a deep breath and then lowered her tone. ‘Or I’ll kill you right here. Now climb over the railing.’

I shook my head. At almost at the same time Tessa lunged towards Phoebe and the knife whipped around once more. But this time, largely due to Tessa’s momentum, it sunk into her upper arm. It went in like the flesh was butter. They stared at each other in shock, and then Tessa opened her mouth to scream. Phoebe moved quickly, pulling the knife out and clapping her spare hand across Tessa’s mouth. The scream emerged as a muffled gurgle of pain. Blood had already soaked her sleeve and was forming rivulets down her skin.

‘Christ!’ I said, taking a step towards them.

Phoebe jerked the knife up to Tessa’s throat. ‘I’m not going to ask again,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Climb over the bloody railing.’

Tessa’s eyes were huge. I scrambled over quickly, being afforded a brief, giddying view of the rippling sea far below, before planting my feet on the narrow ledge and leaning forward to grip the railing tightly. My heels were in the air. I wasn’t going to look down again,
couldn’t
look down again. Surely we weren’t that far away that we hadn’t been heard. Surely someone would be here soon, with help.

Phoebe pushed Tessa forward, still with the knife up and one hand over her mouth. When they got to the railing, she jammed her against it. I shuffled away.

‘I’m going to remove my hand now,’ said Phoebe. ‘And you’re going to join your friend. But if you scream, I’m going to stab both of you. Understand?’

Tessa nodded, her eyes still fixed on me. Her arm was now slick with blood. It probably wasn’t the right time to point out that she wasn’t, in fact, my friend. Phoebe took her hand away slowly, keeping the knife up, and then nodded towards the railing. Tessa hoisted one leg up, wincing as she grasped the top to pull herself over. Within moments she was standing beside me.

‘I actually
am
sorry,’ said Phoebe to Tessa. ‘About your baby. I really didn’t know you’d be here. Just
her
.’

I felt a surge of anger, even amid the fear. She was going to make us jump. ‘They’ll catch you, you know. And you’ll be the most hated person in Australia. You call me names but you’re far worse. You’re selfish and bitter and judgemental. You’re a
murderer
. You’re so much worse than me. Than anyone.’

She stared at me and shook her head. ‘I’m not like you. And I’ll prove it.’ She suddenly lurched to her left and hoisted one of the red-and-white lifebuoys from its cradle. She paused, staring at the rope that looped from it to the railing, and then looked at me with an odd smile before lifting the knife. I flinched, steeling myself. But nothing came. I opened my eyes to see her sawing at the rope. As soon as it was free, she put it aside and started on another, breathing heavily.

There was a pool of blood on the decking. It glistened. The other cutlery, or even my empty scotch glass, would have been useful as a weapon but they were out of reach. I glanced at Tessa. Her face was pale. I couldn’t see her injured arm from this side but the fingers clasping the railing were slippery with blood. The knuckles of her other hand were bone-white.

‘Here you are.’ Phoebe passed one of the freed lifebuoys over the railing to Tessa. I acted without thinking, yet full of the knowledge that this might be our only chance. I launched myself towards her, scrabbling at the knife. For a moment we clutched at each other but I was hampered by having to keep one hand on the railing. She brought her arm back, crooking the elbow before driving it into the side of my head. I reared back, nearly losing my grip. Fear and pain ricocheted through my temples.

‘You
bitch
,’ said Phoebe, her voice shaking. ‘That’s what I get for trying to do the right thing!’

Tessa’s mouth had dropped open. With the lifebuoy tucked awkwardly between her and the railing, she looked like some weird version of a nautical clown. The heart on the T-shirt was framed by the lifebuoy. I felt a hiccup of hysterical laughter surge into my throat, where it swelled and then burst. Phoebe had taken a step back. She placed a hand against her sternum and took a few steadying breaths, her eyes closed. I tightened my grip on the railing, ignoring the pounding in my head, half thinking that I might have time to scramble over and mount another attack. Her eyes flashed open.

‘Put it round you,’ she said to Tessa. ‘You won’t be connected to the ship but it’ll give you a fighting chance. Then we can let the fates decide.’

‘That’s not a fighting chance,’ I said grimly as I helped Tessa clumsily pull the lifebuoy over her head. It jammed across her chest. ‘The fall alone will probably kill us, and if not then the cold of the water will. You may as well not bother.’

‘So you don’t want one?’ Phoebe held the second lifebuoy. ‘Shall I just leave it?’

I stared at her. ‘No, I’ll have it.’

‘Say please.’

‘Please.’

She smiled as she passed it over. I grabbed the severed rope and slipped the buoy awkwardly over my head. It dropped into place around my waist but the breadth pushed me even further from the ship. I kept my eyes on Phoebe, not just because I needed to, but because anything else might require me to look down.

‘Now jump,’ she said to Tessa. The simplicity of the two words contrasted bizarrely with the implications.

‘I can’t,’ said Tessa. She was crying. ‘I just can’t.’

Phoebe looked at her. It was the expression of someone who has just seen a fly land on her meal. Tessa was a distraction, an irritation, and she wanted her out of the way before she turned to me. I was the main attraction. She pointed the knife at Tessa. ‘Jump.’

Tessa gave an imperceptible shake of her head. What happened next unfolded in slow motion, but took only a matter of seconds. Phoebe lunged forward and Tessa let out a thin squeal as she reared back. Almost immediately her hands slipped from the railing and, with one foot still on the ledge, she did an odd, surprisingly graceful half-pirouette towards me. Then she was falling. I instinctively reached out a hand but the soft material of her T-shirt slid through my fingers. Before I could even register that she was gone, a massive weight wrenched me backwards. I felt my fingers pull from the railing and with a huge effort, dragged my upper body forward. I realised that Tessa had grabbed the looped rope of my lifebuoy and was now hanging behind me. I could hear her whimpering. The front of the buoy had rammed upwards, against my ribs. The pressure was unbearable.

Phoebe was staring at us, clearly astounded by this turn of events. Her eyes darkened. She dived towards me and then leant out, over the railing, so close that her left breast pressed against my shoulder. My hat went tumbling backwards. Through the pain and the pressure, I realised that she was trying to force Tessa to let go. What I did next was done out of anger-fuelled instinct. There were no thought processes involved, no deliberation, except for one white-hot, crystal clear thread of certainty: if I was going to die, then so was she.

I let go off the railing and instead flung my arms around her upper body, clasping my hands behind her back. She instantly and neatly slipped over the railing, emitting just a grunt of surprise. It was almost too easy. But then we were falling. The relief of losing the pressure on my back was drowned by a wave of black fear. I wanted to scream but, as we gathered speed, the whoosh of the air sucked all sound from my lungs. Cabin lights streamed past like comets. At some point, arms flailing, we had all let go of each other, but I couldn’t see anyone else. Everything was terror, except for the smallest sliver of awareness that began shouting instructions.
You’ll be hitting the water soon so hang on to that lifebuoy. Close your mouth. Keep your legs together. Take a breath.

I sliced into the water feet first, the roar of my entry almost deafening after the soundlessness of the fall. It was piercingly, shockingly cold. Deeper and deeper I plunged into the darkness, until it seemed that it would go on forever, that I was too deep ever to resurface. Finally the momentum slowed and the buoyancy of my lifebuoy began dragging me back up. After an eternity I bobbed to the surface, like a cork, gasping for air.

Any pleasure I might have taken in my survival was overwhelmed by urgency. I had surfaced into the wake of the ship, white water churning around me. I waved my arms, screaming. The ship was so close that I could see the individual cabins, the sliding doors, the gay umbrellas at the rear of the pool deck high above. My voice began to crack but I kept one arm raised until it became obvious there was no point. The ship continued on without hesitation.