Now he just wants to say yes. But he’s too honest.
‘No,’ he says.
‘Why not?’ asks Anne. ‘Doesn’t sound like you love her.’
‘I don’t,’ he says. ‘But it’s not as simple as that.’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Thea. ‘How much more simple could it be?’
‘She’d be upset,’ he says.
‘But you wouldn’t care, right?’ says Emily. ‘I mean, she sounds like a nightmare.’
‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ he says. ‘Her whole world is about security and being secure. Mummy and Daddy expect that we’ll get married one day. And they don’t even disapprove of me. My mum thinks Carla’s lovely, and they get on really well. The thing is, Carla thinks I’m someone I’m not, and I feel guilty about deceiving her, because the person she thinks I am probably would want to be with her forever.’
‘And it is fun having a secret world,’ says Paul.
‘A secret world?’ says Jamie. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Come on. Don’t you think it’s exciting that she doesn’t know the real you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘Maybe.’
‘Sounds like you thought so when you were with Greg,’ says Thea.
‘I suppose,’ says Jamie. ‘Yeah, I do see what you mean. I like the privacy it gives me. For example, she doesn’t know I’m on the Internet at home – she wouldn’t know what a modem was if one fell on her head – so every time I look up porn it feels more exciting, because . . . Gosh, now I think about it, I get turned on by betraying her.’
‘Do you get turned on betraying people?’ Thea asks Paul.
‘Maybe,’ he says.
‘What about you?’ Emily says to Bryn. ‘Do you lie to women?’
‘Of course. Every man does,’ he says.
‘Aren’t you looking for a soulmate to share everything with?’ asks Emily.
‘No way,’ says Jamie. ‘At least, I wasn’t.’
‘Aha,’ says Anne, picking up on this instantly. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing,’ says Jamie.
‘Jamie’s turn,’ says Emily. ‘Come on, sexy.’
Did she just call him sexy? God.
‘It’s your turn,’ prompts Thea.
‘Oh. OK. I pick Paul. Truth or dare?’
‘Truth,’ says Paul.
‘Have you cried in the last year?’ asks Jamie.
‘Of course,’ says Paul. ‘What a weird question.’
‘I never cry,’ says Bryn.
‘I bet you do,’ says Emily. ‘In secret.’
‘What did you cry about?’ asks Jamie.
‘I think that’s another question,’ says Paul. ‘Emily, truth or dare?’
‘Truth,’ says Emily.
‘Wuss,’ says Paul.
‘Well, you wouldn’t hesitate to make me strip or something, would you?’ she says.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Paul. ‘Anyway, your question. What’s your greatest fear?’
‘My greatest fear,’ says Emily thoughtfully.
‘Didn’t they ask that on the application form for this job?’ asks Thea.
‘Yeah,’ says Jamie. ‘I thought that was weird.’
‘That was the only bit I didn’t lie about,’ says Paul.
‘Did you lie on the rest of it?’ asks Jamie.
‘The bits that were worth it, yeah. Of course.’
‘I said I had a degree in Chemistry,’ says Bryn, and laughs.
‘I thought you did have a degree in Chemistry,’ says Jamie.
‘Yeah, right. And a rocket to fly to the moon,’ says Bryn.
Everyone else laughs.
‘Didn’t you lie?’ Emily asks Jamie.
‘Nope,’ says Jamie. ‘I’ve never lied on a form.’
‘You’ve never lied on a form?’ says Anne. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘So you really are a bright young thing, then,’ says Thea.
‘I wonder if we’ll ever find out what that means,’ says Emily.
‘I think it means we’re fucked,’ says Bryn.
‘No, seriously,’ says Emily. ‘Why kidnap people because they’re clever? It doesn’t make sense. If any old British citizens would do, then why advertise specifically for us? Otherwise, why not go all out and kidnap the Spice Girls or, I don’t know, real VIPs at least. Why us?’
‘You’re assuming that the job interview people brought us here,’ says Jamie.
‘Well, they did drug our coffee,’ says Thea.
‘What if someone else drugged the coffee?’ Jamie says.
‘Seems a bit unlikely,’ says Bryn. ‘What would someone have to do to drug job-interviewees’ coffee? The effort wouldn’t be worth it. They’d have to have infiltrated the interview place and everything. Like Emily says, we’re not important enough for someone to have done that. If we were totally random, then yeah, sure. But we obviously weren’t, and it must be something to do with responding to that ad and what we put on the form.’
‘Exactly. Why us in particular?’ says Thea.
There’s a few moments’ silence. No one knows.
‘Anyway, Emily hasn’t answered her question,’ says Paul. ‘Emily?’
‘I’m thinking,’ she says. ‘I suppose it’s rape,’ she admits eventually.
‘Your greatest fear,’ says Paul.
‘Uh huh,’ she says. ‘Rape.’
‘Is that what you put on the form?’ asks Jamie.
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Yeah. I put it on the form. What did you put?’
‘Death.’ He shudders. ‘That’s the biggest thing I’m scared of.’
‘I put spiders,’ says Thea. ‘I’m fucking terrified of them.’
‘Little furry spiders,’ says Paul playfully. ‘Ahhh.’
She grimaces. ‘Euugh. Don’t. What did everyone else put?’
‘Needles,’ says Bryn, frowning. ‘Never been able to have an injection.’
‘Imprisonment,’ says Paul. ‘Being locked up scares the fuck out of me.’
‘Welcome to hell,’ says Anne, gesturing at their current situation.
‘No,’ he says. Not like this. This is more like being trapped, and people are always trapped. I mean like behind a locked door, like in a prison cell or whatever. On my own.’
‘What did you put, Anne?’ asks Emily.
‘I can’t remember,’ she says. ‘I made something up.’
‘Well, what’s your greatest fear? Didn’t you put that?’
‘Nah.’ Anne smiles. ‘I don’t have one.’
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s getting late. Thea’s been yawning every few minutes for about half an hour now. She’s going to have to go to bed soon.
‘Emily?’ says Jamie.
‘What?’
‘How come your biggest fear is rape?’
‘Hello?’ she says. ‘Have you never watched Crimewatch?’
‘Yeah, I know it’s frightening,’ he says. ‘But those things you were saying before . . . ?’
‘What, about rape fantasies?’ she says.
‘Yeah. You said most people have them. But you don’t.’
‘Who said that?’ she replies. ‘Who said I don’t?’
‘Well, if it’s your biggest fear . . .’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, you wouldn’t fantasise about it, surely?’
Jamie’s looking increasingly uncomfortable as he speaks.
‘There’s a difference between non-consensual sex and rape,’ says Emily.
‘Is there?’ says Thea. ‘I’d like to see you tell that to a date-rape victim.’
‘No, I mean that someone having sex with you when you don’t want to is a bit different from being abducted and having your mouth duct-taped and your tits sawn off,’ she says. ‘And all I fantasise about is some guy forcing himself on me. Obviously I don’t wank over some guy in a mask taking me to a dungeon to kill me. If you want to know the truth, I’m totally embarrassed that I fantasise about it at all.’
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‘So why do you fantasise about it?’ asks Jamie.
‘It’s a guilt thing,’ says Emily. ‘I think. Help me out girls?’
‘Sorry,’ says Anne. ‘I’m still a virgin.’
‘I was raped once,’ says Thea.
‘Really?’ says Jamie. ‘God.’
‘Well, it wasn’t that bad,’ she says. ‘I sort of enjoyed it.’
‘You enjoyed it?’ says Emily.
‘This is so Nancy Friday,’ says Anne.
‘What happened?’ Emily asks Thea.
‘It was a friend’s brother,’ she explains. ‘I was staying over at my friend’s house and sleeping in the spare room. Her mum was ill, and her dad was really worried about her. They were both in bed. The brother crept into my room and put his arm around me. We’d never liked each other, and he didn’t get on with my friend either. Everyone knew he was a bit of a pervert. Anyway, he pushed me on to the bed and told me not to make any noise. He said no one would hear me scream. The thing is, if I had screamed, everyone would have heard. Because I knew that, I wasn’t really scared. In fact, I was turned on.’ She pauses. ‘God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I must be drunk. Anyway, I think we both knew we were acting out a fantasy. I had an orgasm almost immediately. He did too, then he just left the room. We never mentioned it again.’
‘That is so not rape,’ says Emily.
‘So you fantasise about it as well?’ Jamie says to Thea.
‘Well, kind of,’ says Thea. ‘All women do. Like Emily said, it’s a guilt thing.’
‘I don’t understand,’ says Bryn.
‘Well, if the guy’s totally in control you don’t feel like a slut,’ she explains.
‘Yeah,’ agrees Emily. ‘It’s like if wanting it makes you a slut, then not wanting it sort of purifies you. You can enjoy the sex without the guilt of having initiated it. And you can do all these dirty things without having to admit you want to. In your fantasies at least,’ she adds. ‘Did you watch Killer Net?’ she asks everyone.
‘Yeah,’ says Paul. ‘That was pretty cool.’
‘You know that bit where the virtual woman’s in the alleyway?’ asks Emily. Paul nods. ‘Well, I got totally turned on at that bit. I imagined some guy pushing her up against the wall and having sex with her. But then all of a sudden she was getting her head bashed in with a hammer. I felt sick, because I’d been turned on and then that happened. I’m so scared that if it happens to me it will be because I’ve fantasised about it, and at the moment that he’s sticking a knife into me I’ll be thinking, Well, girl, you got off on this, how does it feel now? It’s like all the guilt I thought I was saving by having the fantasy in the first place just comes back as fear. I won’t walk down dark alleys, or go home on my own, or walk in empty parks,’ she says. ‘Ever. But all those places are where my fantasies take place, and all the things that happen in my fantasies are things I’d do anything to avoid in real life.’
‘Maybe it’s like two poles of the same magnet,’ says Bryn. ‘The two can never meet.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ says Emily.
‘That’s profound,’ says Jamie.
Paul laughs. ‘Are you sure you mean the same magnet?’ he says.
‘It’s very Freudian,’ comments Anne.
‘What?’ says Emily.
‘The guilt not going away. Surfacing in your fears.’
‘I bet it would go away if you liked yourself more,’ says Jamie.
‘Men can’t understand,’ Emily says to him angrily. ‘It’s hard to like yourself when you’re a woman and you’re surrounded by stuff telling you to hate yourself, or that you’re not good enough or thin enough, and detailing the bad things that can happen to you just for being a woman. Imagine picking up Men’s Health or Playboy or whatever and reading about penis mutilation? Don’t you think that would fuck you up? It just doesn’t happen, does it? All magazines are about screwing women up, even the women’s magazines. What is it with all the diets and stories about rape and sudden death anyway? Like we need scaring more.’
Emily continues. ‘The worst thing I ever read in a magazine was this feature on rape. You know, the kind with three case-studies? The first story was about some girl walking down a dark road and some guy jumping out and forcing her to have sex. I got off on that story. The next one was more of the same, but the third one was about some guy who talked his way into a girl’s flat after he helped her with some groceries she’d dropped outside. She was a really cautious girl, but he saw her cat food and started chatting about it or something, saying he had a cat too, and being really friendly. I can’t remember all the details, but he was really nice and made coming into the flat the most natural thing in the world. Next thing, the poor girl was being raped, which is bad enough. Then the guy left the room and put on some loud music. She thought the ordeal was over, but he’d actually gone into the kitchen to get a knife to kill her. He’d turned up the music so no one could hear her dying. She escaped somehow, but fucking hell. Imagine that. Being murdered with one of your own knives, with your own music playing, by some guy who’d been chatting to you about your cat? I had nightmares for weeks after reading that article. I hate women’s magazines.’
‘That’s a horrible story,’ says Paul. He looks genuinely upset.
Suddenly, there’s a noise from the top of the house. Everyone jumps.
‘Fucking hell,’ says Jamie. ‘Shit.’
‘Hot Christ,’ says Paul.
‘What the hell was that?’ says Bryn.
‘Possums?’ suggests Anne.
‘Possums?’ says Emily.
Anne shrugs. ‘It’s always possums in Neighbours.’
‘Well this isn’t fucking Neighbours,’ says Thea.
There’s no more noise from upstairs.
‘That didn’t sound like a bat or a bird,’ says Emily.
‘Or a possum,’ says Paul.
‘Maybe something fell off a shelf,’ suggests Jamie.
‘What, twice in one day?’ asks Paul.
‘Maybe it’s a dodgy shelf,’ says Emily.
They sit there waiting for more noises, but there are none.
‘Maybe it’s a ghost,’ says Paul.
‘Paul!’ says Emily.
‘What’s scary about ghosts?’ he enquires.
‘Can we talk about something else?’ asks Emily. ‘I feel weird.’
‘OK, well whose turn is it?’ asks Jamie.
‘I think I might go to bed,’ says Thea, yawning. ‘I’m pissed.’
‘Party pooper,’ says Emily.
‘We can carry on without her,’ says Jamie. ‘Can’t we?’
‘I suppose,’ says Emily.
‘Aren’t you scared of the ghost?’ asks Paul.
‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ she replies.
‘I’d be more scared in that case,’ mumbles Bryn.
Thea ignores him. ‘Anyway, goodnight,’ she says.
Everyone says goodnight, but they seem more interested in the game.
‘It’s Anne’s turn,’ says Emily.
Thea walks out of the door and shuts it behind her.
It’s much colder out in the hall. Freezing, in fact. Totally drunk, Thea finds it hard to maintain any kind of straight line while walking down the hall, and the stairs seem to be best tackled on all fours. Once in her room, she doesn’t bother to get undressed, but climbs into bed fully clothed, giggling at nothing. She’s still pissed off with whoever kidnapped her and made her come here, and she’s worried about the odd noises. But for some reason – she expects it’s the alcohol – all this just seems really funny. And another thing is making her laugh: suddenly it seems as if now’s as good a time as any to give masturbation a try.
Under the covers, feeling like a kid reading after lights out, Thea reaches up under her skirt. It feels weird, slipping her hand under her knickers. This isn’t something she does regularly for any reason other than maybe to take her knickers off. But even then, she would usually just yank them
from the sides, rather than do what she’s doing now. When she touches her vagina, it feels really odd. She’s never touched it like this before. She’s never really felt her pubic hair unless it’s been wet (in the bath or shower). Not knowing what to do next, she investigates the area, looking for her clitoris. Several of her boyfriends have found it in the past, and she’s definitely had orgasms before, but she’s never had to find it herself.
Just as she’s about to come, there’s a noise from outside her door.
‘Shhh. Thea’s asleep,’ says someone; it sounds like Bryn.
For fuck’s sake. Thea removes her hands from her vagina and unspreads her legs. She can feel the sexy feeling leave her like a spirit leaving a dead body. Are they coming in here? She hopes she’s not the target for some stupid dare. She can hear a whispered discussion, and Anne humming something which sounds familiar.
As they all burst in her door, she recognises it as the theme from Ghostbusters.
‘Do you mind?’ she says to them, pulling the covers over her head.
They seem pretty drunk.
‘We’re going ghostbusting,’ says Emily. ‘Do you wanna come?’ She’s slurring her words.
‘No,’ says Thea. ‘Fuck off and let me go to sleep.’
‘Suit yourself,’ says Paul. ‘Bye.’
Ten minutes later they’re all standing outside the attic room again.
‘Thought you were tired,’ Paul says to Thea.
‘I was,’ she says. ‘Till you woke me up.’
‘So who’s breaking in?’ asks Emily.
‘Do you want me to pick the—’ begins Bryn.
‘No,’ says Paul. ‘I think we’ll get in via traditional methods.’
‘Huh?’ says Jamie.
‘It is his dare,’ says Anne.
‘Is this part of Truth or Dare?’ says Thea. She sighs. ‘For God’s sake.’
‘Stand back,’ says Paul.
Everyone stands back. He kicks the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s dark inside. Bryn takes a deep breath. His lungs fill with putrid air.
‘It stinks up here,’ says Emily. She waves her hand in front of her face.
‘Yeah, this ghost really smells,’ says Anne.
Paul ventures in first, feeling for a light switch.