The outside tables and chairs were stacked up next to one of the windows; no one was using them in this awful weather. I hurried up the path to the main doors and threw myself into the glowing warmth of the eatery.
The jukebox was playing a Beach Boys song and the animated chatter of the customers immediately brightened my mood. That is, until I realised what they were all chatting about. Gossiping about. News sure does travel fast around here; news of a dead body apparently travelled at light speed. I said hi to a few people who were sitting at some of the tables - mainly friends of my parents - and then went to sit at one of the only empty booths, near the back. At least there I could detach myself from some of the distasteful conversations going on around me.
There was no sign of Veronica yet so I just sat and fiddled with the cardboard Marilyn Monroe picture that was always placed in the middle of this table.
Each seating area had its own Hollywood or Rock ‘n’ Roll star instead of a table number, so you’d often hear sentences such as “Three double cheeseburgers and curly fries for Marilyn,” or “Four ice cream sodas for Buddy.”
I put Marilyn down again, looking for something else to fidget with, when I spotted V walking out of the kitchen with two giant stacks of pancakes on her tray. I let her take them over to Cary Grant before trying to get her attention. I knew she’d seen my mad waving because she turned in my direction, but her eyes moved over me and she walked back towards the busy bar without saying a word.
I hesitated, not knowing if she’d seen me. I assumed she must be having a tough day; how often did I space out in front of customers at the cinema? So I stood up and walked over to the bar, sliding myself in between everyone else and just managing to get a seat on one of the high stools. Veronica was busy making a cocktail of some kind, and I watched in fascination as she poured in measures of spirits without having to look them up, like I’d have to. I was glad the only drinks I had to pour at the cinema were Cokes or slushies.
I tried to catch her eye but either her mind was somewhere else entirely or she was avoiding me. “V?”
She didn’t look up. “Be with you in a minute.” Her usual sing-song voice was cold and professional. She never spoke to me like that, even when the Diner was really busy, and I’d seen it much, much busier than this before.
I watched as she stuck a strawberry onto a cocktail stick, and I thought about how she’d addressed me. As far as I knew, I was the only person who ever referred to her as V. Well, apart from Will, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t sound anything like him…
A thought suddenly occurred to me. I didn’t see John anywhere in the Diner, but of course he wouldn’t be working after the events of last night. Veronica was close to John, and despite her dislike for his girlfriend, she must have been gutted for him. She was obviously taking it pretty badly if she didn’t even look up to say hi to me.
She finally finished the cocktail and handed it to a tall, blonde woman whom I didn’t recognise. As soon as she opened her mouth, however, I understood why; she had the thickest Southern American accent I’d ever heard (and the only one I’d ever heard in real life).
Little Forest and the surrounding areas received lots of tourists during the summer - mainly non-British travellers who wanted to find that authentic slice of traditional country living - but some visited out of season too.
I found it ironic that this woman had come so far from home and had just ended up in an American themed Diner.
As soon as Veronica had put the money for the drink in the till, she turned to walk off back towards the kitchen, a small tower of dirty glasses in one hand. Exasperated, I followed her and grabbed her arm, perhaps a little too roughly, stopping her in her tracks. “V, are you OK? Is it Emma?”
She turned round and finally looked at me, but her gaze was aimed at my mouth, as if she couldn’t bear to look me in the eyes. I vaguely noticed my stomach churning as she whispered the words I thought would never come out of her mouth. “We can’t be friends anymore.”
Her voice was so low I thought I must have misheard her. “What?”
She looked a little irritated now. “Beth, don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can’t hang out with you anymore.”
I could feel my throat getting drier with every prolonged second that passed and my morning hangover headache was returning with a vengeance. “Why? What are you talking about?”
She finally looked me in the eyes just as tears sprung to hers. “We just can’t. Believe me. I wish…” Tears ran down her cheek, cutting her off mid-sentence. She wiped them off her face and looked down at the floor. “I think you should leave.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. Never in my entire life had Veronica spoken to me like that, and it wasn’t just the words themselves that caused a shiver to ripple through my body. The way she’d said that simple sentence… it was as if she’d had to force herself to speak to me, like I wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
I opened my mouth to respond but realised I had no idea what to say. My mind raced; what could have happened between last night (or, technically, this morning) and now? “But…” I tried to think of a way to keep Veronica talking to me. “Aren’t you upset about Emma? Did you find out this morning? Is that why you were calling me?” I looked round at the customers, some of whom were eyeing us with interest. I wished we were anywhere other than in the middle of the Diner; even with the music playing, the people sitting nearest to us could hear everything we were saying. Or, in V’s case, not saying.
Veronica laughed bitterly, seemingly oblivious to our growing audience. “Some people have more important things to think about than a stupid drunk girl who went off and died.”
I could hear a clattering of cutlery from some shocked eavesdropper but I paid it no attention. I was too busy staring at V, stunned that she could be so cold and heartless about someone’s death. And besides, when did Veronica ever have important things to think about? Apart from work and planning London, she didn’t have anything else going on in her life that I knew about. And if anyone knew, I’d be the one. Wouldn’t I?
V stared back at me, her face burning red. Was she angry? Embarrassed? Upset? For the first time in my life, I had no idea what she was thinking.
“V… I know you didn’t like Emma but don’t you think you’re being a bit insensitive? Where’s John? Have you seen him?”
She shook her head impatiently, almost violently. “No, I haven’t. And I don’t care if he comes in or not. I’m not in the mood, just…” she broke off, as if unsure of what to say next. She took a deep breath before she started talking again, this time louder and with more force. “I don’t want to talk to you. Just go!” She raised her voice even more on the word ‘go’ and the last remaining background noise in the Diner abruptly stopped. There wasn’t even any music playing now, and I vaguely wondered when the Beach Boys track had ended.
“Come on, V.” I tried to keep my voice down but knew it was useless; everyone in the Diner was listening so hard they may as well have all been leaning towards us with their hand cupped around one ear. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what the hell’s going on!”
Veronica looked stumped, as if she’d expected me to just burst into tears and run out of the Diner like a child. To tell the truth, the thought had occurred to me.
“Just go!”
I stood my ground. “No.”
Her shoulders slumped and her eyes started darting about the room frantically. In the end she just said, “Fine, I’ll go,” and headed towards the door.
I caught up with her just before she got outside and she whipped round in a fast, violent motion, throwing the stack of glasses at me.
I ducked just in time for them to go flying over my head, and I winced as I heard them smash spectacularly on the tiled floor. People at the nearest tables flinched away from the glass, and from what I could tell, none of it had found its way to any of the patrons.
I looked at V, shocked and furious. Her lovely pale skin wa
s rapidly blotching out in a dirty red colour and her eyes were wide, staring at me in surprise. Her actions had obviously shocked even herself. She looked round the Diner again, taking in the broken glass and stunned expressions.
“If you value your life, stay away from me.”
Without another word, Veronica pushed open the main doors and disappeared into the dark night.
It was a good twenty seconds or so before the silence was swept away with hushed, gossiping voices. I tried to ignore the fascinated glances as I walked over to the broken glass in a daze. If I valued my life? I knew Veronica was melodramatic, but that was taking it a bit too far.
“Um, hey Beth. I’ll clean that up.”
I looked up to see Justin Hanks smiling at me nervously.
“Oh, thanks.”
He bent down and started using a dustpan and brush to gather up the fragments. “Been a bit of a dramatic day, huh?”
I nodded automatically before turning and walking out of the Diner. I needed some fresh air.
The night seemed to be colder and darker than just a few minutes ago and the icy wind hit me in the face as the Diner door slammed shut behind me. I looked back at the warm, cosy-looking light coming through the windows and retreated to the pavement of Main Street. The road was illuminated by numerous street lamps, but it still looked dingy and uninviting in comparison. Veronica was nowhere to be seen.
I turned my attention towards Little Forest Castle, which was standing tall over the village, its ragged form barely visible against the pitch-black night sky. In the daylight it was a celebrated cultural landmark that looked protectively down over Little Forest, but at night it cut a formidable shape in the landscape, looming over the village with only the dense tangle of trees to separate it from the usual hustle and bustle of Main Street.
I took one last look at the Diner and headed towards the castle.
***
My dad had worked at the Castle Tourist Centre (and by Tourist Centre, I meant a little wooden hut at the bottom of the hill) for as long as I’d been alive, and he felt very protective of the whole place, so I knew I could count on him to still be there even after closing time.
I walked through the little entryway (that housed all of the tourist brochures detailing exciting things to do in the county of Covershire) and into the main ‘exhibition room’.
This room involved one corner from which he sold tacky tourist souvenirs such as neon pencils and plastic rulers, a counter that served as my dad’s desk, and various mini exhibitions of some of the local legends and folk tales.
As expected, my dad was hunched over one of the displays, cleaning the gold plaque entitled, ‘Little Forest Castle: A Tale of Murder and Revenge’. He was in his own little world - one I wished I could join him in - and he hadn’t heard me walk over.
I cleared my throat, unconsciously imitating his most annoying habit, and said shakily, “Hi, Dad.”
He turned round in surprise - obviously registering the pathetic tone in my voice - and rushed over to me, dropping his feather duster in the process.
He studied my face while I peered back at him, noticing how tired he looked. His dark hair had been greying for a while now, and was seemingly out of place on his youthful, smiley face, but tonight it seemed to match his features perfectly. The skin on his chin had broken out into a blotchy rash, his usually warm brown eyes seemed distant, and there were dark circles etched underneath, ageing him by at least five years.
“Elizabeth, what’s wrong?” His use of my full name - reserved solely for either when I was in trouble or upset - interrupted my thoughts and finally made me break down. I shook my head, trying to hold the tears in, and my dad pulled me in for a giant hug. His fleece jacket smelled of damp foliage and I wondered if he’d been walking through the forest that day. After a few seconds I pulled away from him, wiping the tears off my face with the sleeve of my coat.
“Did you hear about Emma?”
Understanding flooded into his face, but there was a split second when I thought I caught a ripple of something else; could it have been relief? What else did he think I’d been up to?
My dad nodded solemnly. “Terrible business, the police were hovering around all morning. I didn’t think you two were close?”
“We weren’t…”
“Then why are you so upset?”
I tried to avoid thinking about Veronica. “I worked with her, Dad! I only saw her last night,” I tried to block the image of her leaning against the wall of The Pit, “and now she’s dead. Of course I’m upset.”
He pulled me in for another hug. “I’m sorry, Beth. I wasn’t thinking, it’s been a… a tough day.”
I looked down at the floor to avoid his gaze and took a deep breath. I’d come here to see a friendly face, but what I really wanted to do was tell someone about V. “OK, you’re right, that’s not all. I was just at the Diner and…”
My dad looked suddenly anxious, and I realised my embarrassing blubbering must have scared him more than I thought. “Yes?”
I took another deep breath, picturing V, red faced and angry, shouting at me to leave. “Veronica threw me out. She said she didn’t want to talk to me and that I had to leave. She yelled at me! Everyone in there was staring at us. She said horrible things about Emma as well, it was so heartless. I don’t understand, the last time I saw her we were laughing and discussing leaving, and now… she’s never been like that with me, Dad. Ever.”
All of this came out in a quick rush of stunted sentences, and after I’d finished there was a moment of silence. I looked up at my dad. He seemed deep in thought, brow furrowed, mouth open slightly. I waited for him to say something.
“Why did Veronica throw you out?” He asked it casually, but I could hear the anticipation in his voice.
I shrugged. “No idea, she wouldn’t tell me.”
I could have sworn my dad exhaled slowly, letting himself relax again.
“Well, technically she didn’t throw me out. She ran out instead, but not before she threw some glasses at me.” Just saying it out loud sounded stupid and unbelievable.
My dad suddenly looked concerned, but a bit disbelieving too.
“She missed.”
His previous worry seemed to melt right off his face. “Oh, good.”
Great. So people could throw whatever they wanted at me, as long as I had the good sense to dodge them. Parents were weird.
“Why would she do that to me?”
I was asking myself more than anything, but as soon as I uttered those words, my dad snapped out of his contemplation and looked at me, surprise etched on his exhausted features. “Why would I know anything?” His tone was sharp and defensive.
“I just meant… what could make her act like that?” I said quietly, wondering why my dad seemed to be acting in a similar way.
He relaxed again. “Darling, I don’t think I’m the best person to be asking about what goes on in young women’s minds.” He chuckled to himself, but it sounded higher and louder than his usual laugh.
He turned back to the plaque he’d been polishing. “And besides, maybe it’s for the best. You and Veronica do spend an awful lot of time together, it might be good to start… hanging out with other people.”
I stood looking at the back of his head, speechless. My parents loved Veronica, so why on earth would he say something like that? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He still seemed to be intently examining the plaque. “Oh, nothing. Just a thought. Look, why don’t you go home while I finish up here, and when I get back I’ll cook you whatever you want.”
I agreed absent-mindedly, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. “Dad?”
“Yes?” He was still staring at the display, and I waited in silence to see if he’d turn round. He didn’t.
I was about to say ‘never mind’ when a thought occurred to me. “How come Rick Wood was in the forest at seven a.m. this morning?”
This time he did turn round. “He was
?”
I nodded, knowing I shouldn’t be ‘divulging the information’ as Rick had put it but not really caring. “He’s the one who found Emma.”
My dad narrowed his eyes at me. “How did you know that? He never mentioned anything to me…”
“Paul Lawrence kind of let it slip out when he was questioning me.”
He rushed over to me again. “They questioned you? Why?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I did work with her, and I saw her last night.” The less said about that the better. “Didn’t they question you? For working here?”
He nodded. “Not that I could help, really; I didn’t get here until eight. I suppose if Rick hadn’t have been here it could have been me finding her…” His eyes glazed over, and I mentally thanked Rick Wood, idiot or not, for sparing my dad that horror.
“What a way to go.”
My dad nodded. “Let’s hope they catch whoever did this.”
I nodded too, before his words sunk in. “What? She knocked herself out and choked… didn’t she? What do you know?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Oh… yes, she probably did. It’s just I overheard Rick and… what’s his name?”
“Paul?”
“Yes, Paul. They seemed to think there was someone else with her… I’m not sure I should be telling you this, Beth.”
I gave him the most innocent smile I could. “Dad, she was my friend…”
He hesitated, then nodded. “They said her dress had been torn, as if someone had ripped it off… but they couldn’t find the missing fabric anywhere.”
I laughed involuntarily, causing more concern to flood my dad’s face. I knew it. I knew it!
I tried to control myself and decided to change the subject to something less brain-achy. “Does Rick usually go for walks that early in the morning?”
He seemed to think for a bit, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I never get here that early.”
I nodded, giving him a quick smile. “Never mind, I’ll see you later.”
I plodded outside and looked around the Tourist Centre car park, empty except for my dad’s new hybrid car, a little burst of modernity amongst the ancient forest surroundings. I wanted to put off going home for a bit; I didn’t think I could handle my mum’s inevitable gossiping about Emma yet.