The Bridal Party Read online

  The Bridal Party

  J. G. Murray

  The hall is empty. Everyone has piled their luggage onto trolleys and gone, filtering out through the exits with phones pinned to their ears. The only sound is the churn of the carousel; it crawls around the sides of the room, snaking in and out of the wall.

  One blue piece of luggage remains. It has a name tag on it – but not with the name of anyone who was on the flight. It just says: Nicky Tam. It goes round and round, slowly circling the airport room as if on a forgotten fairground ride. It is ignored; unclaimed.

  When the airport staff come to inspect it, the first thing they will notice is the stains. The blotches.

  And then they will see the redness, dripping out of the corner and onto the conveyor belt.

  For weeks and months to come, there will be a dark stain on the belt. No matter what chemicals are applied to it, the mark will endure. Staff will keep thinking that it has gone, finally worn off; but then they will see it entering the hall again, emerging from the dark hole in the wall.

  Returning, endlessly.

  Now

  One

  ‘Well here it is, I think. Matches Tamsyn’s description, at any rate.’

  Clarisse’s voice cracked a little when saying Tamsyn’s name. To compensate, she shot a smile at the others in the car. I’m not upset, the smile tried to say. Everything is on track.

  It didn’t convince a soul, least of all Nada, who took her hand off the wheel just long enough to give Clarisse’s knee an encouraging squeeze. The two of them had been friends since university, and she could tell from years of experience how to gauge Clarisse’s mood. The bride-to-be was trying her best to keep everything together; she just needed support and, ideally, an absence of any more bad news.

  It was hard, however, not to think of Tamsyn’s absence, the empty seat in the car.

  Nada peered through the windshield to the country road winding ahead. They were at the bottom of a wooded valley; the trees were bunched closely together on either side of them, and a pattern of branches intermingled over their heads. It didn’t seem like the sort of place where there would be Airbnb accommodation: all they could see was woodland, carpeting the hills with shades of autumn.

  ‘It’s very out of the way,’ she commented.

  ‘I’m just following what Tamsyn put in her email,’ Clarisse said defensively, her voice wobbling a little again. ‘She explained it really clearly.’

  ‘I’m sure she did, it’s just that there’s nothing here,’ said Nada. ‘I suppose it must be a little cottage, tucked away somewhere. Probably easy to miss. Gaia, are you awake?’

  There was a vague noise from the back. Gaia had been out drinking last night, much to Clarisse’s irritation, and had drifted in and out of sleep throughout the drive.

  ‘The house is around here – keep a lookout!’

  Gaia made another nondescript noise of acknowledgement, but Nada, looking into the rear-view mirror, saw that her eyes were still firmly closed.

  ‘I think we’re on our own,’ she told Clarisse.

  ‘I guess so,’ came the answer, much more mournful than Nada would have liked.

  It was hard work. As Tamsyn had planned the trip, every conversation seemed to lead back to her; every question, every moment of doubt, was a reminder that she wasn’t there. It made their efforts to keep things light-hearted seem pointless.

  The bridal party had assembled at Gatwick Airport that morning, eager to question Tamsyn about the weekend. It comprised Clarisse’s four closest friends: Nada and Gaia, who she knew from university and work; and two school friends, Afreya and Elena. Tamsyn had been a consummate, if mysterious, maid of honour, and the four of them had received countless messages from her throughout the past few months. Up until the week before, she’d been in frequent contact, emailing to give information about what to bring and asking what food and drink everyone preferred … and yet the actual details of the weekend had always been hazy. She had made the decision that the weekend would take place on the island of Jersey, a region she knew well from her early childhood. But no one had any idea of where they were going to stay, or what they were going to do – least of all Clarisse, who’d been kept so completely in the dark, she hadn’t even been told where they were going..

  But as they had gathered together at the airport, a message from Tamsyn had come in to their WhatsApp group.

  I’m so sorry, hon. I can’t be there this weekend. My mum’s in the hospital, I hope you understand. Have a great time. I’ll forward the details on to Nada. Everything has been worked out.

  The atmosphere had instantly transformed from giddy excitement to a kind of mournful silence. For a few minutes they’d pored over the message as if the words held some sort of coded information. Then the conversation had resumed in low voices, straining to keep cheerful while simultaneously showing concern for Tamsyn. What had happened to her mother? Had anyone heard of her being ill before? Wasn’t the text a little … abrupt? They’d tried to call her, but couldn’t get through, fuelling more speculation.

  As the discussion turned in circles, some continued to profess their anxiety about Tamsyn, while others made an effort to move on to happier topics for the sake of Clarisse, who had reacted to the news by going disconcertingly quiet and shaking her head in disbelief

  Nada had mostly stood apart while the others crowded around each other, trying to figure out her own sentiments. While Tamsyn was part of the older circle of school friends, along with Afreya and Elena, they’d all spent enough time together to be close. It felt odd that Tamsyn had never mentioned illness in her family – especially given Nada’s own difficult experiences with it.

  Checking her emails, Nada had seen that there was a string of messages forwarded from Tamsyn about rental cars, flights and accommodation. There was no other information included, nothing more about her mother. Nada had gritted her teeth and sat down to decode all the booking confirmations and receipts in her inbox. While there was a slight frustration at being designated the sensible one and having to suddenly shoulder the responsibility of organisation, there had also been some relief at having a task to do. Single-handedly, she had thought, she could turn this around and rescue the weekend.

  After a frustrating back-and-forth, it had been decided that all they could do was keep to Tamsyn’s instructions and get on their flight. But still, in the departures lounge, and waiting in line to board, conversations had become stilted and short, and everyone glanced at their phones nervously every few minutes in case there was an update. When they’d all sat down in the plane, the air had been thick with worry.

  Not the best start to a hen do.

  ‘There it is,’ said Clarisse now, pointing to a private drive off to the right.

  Through all the confusion and the whispers in the airport, no one had ever doubted that Tamsyn had taken her maid of honour duties seriously. They’d all agreed that if she wasn’t here, it was because of something serious, as it was clear that she’d planned something special. And as Nada pulled off the public road, they received the first sign that she had indeed done exactly that. Finding themselves on a lane that wove up the wooded hill, the road disappearing behind them, it began to look as though she had rented somewhere big – grandiose, even.

  ‘Are you sure this is it?’ Nada felt compelled to ask. It was the kind of property that, when you lived in London, seemed unthinkable. Who actually owned a place like this?

  ‘I think so,’ Clarisse replied, looking at the map on her phone. ‘It said Herodias House at the turn-off, right? Tamsyn did say she’d found somewhere nice …’

  Emerging from the woods, they found themselves on the kind of driveway that led to the houses of rich suitors in period dramas, and Nada, without thi
nking, took her foot off the accelerator.

  They slowed to halt, and everyone gawped at what lay ahead.

  Before them was a boulevard lined with autumn-reddened trees, cutting across a luxuriously spacious stretch of grass. On their right, the lawn was lined by woodland, sloping down into the valley. On their left, however, the view opened out to flowing hills and the grey sea beyond.

  ‘Gaia, have you seen this?’ Nada said.

  Gaia stirred in the back seat. ‘Mate …’ she said, sweeping her mass of dark curls to the side of her face and taking in the view for the first time. ‘Is this … ours?’

  ‘I guess so,’ answered Nada, starting the car up again. ‘And this must be the house.’

  Sure enough, at the end of the boulevard, crowning the top of the hill, was a clump of trees and the building itself. It was lined with vines, its grey facade coloured crimson, yellow and green; with such thick foliage, the windows were like eyes peeking out from behind bushes. At first it seemed dwarfed by its surroundings, but the closer they got to it, the more imposing it became, rising high above the surrounding treetops and gazing out to sea.

  ‘Wow,’ breathed Nada. ‘How did Tamsyn find this place?’

  They inched forward, blood-coloured leaves shifting about the car, until they came to the courtyard at the front of the building. Gravel greeted their arrival with a satisfying crunch under the wheels, and Nada parked outside the door.

  For a brief moment, no one moved, letting it all sink in. Then, never one to sit still for long, Gaia leapt out of the car in a burst of excitement, crying something about nabbing the best room before the others got there. There was no middle ground with Gaia: she was either overflowing with energy or fast asleep.

  Nada studied the unfamiliar set-up of the rental car until she found the lever to unlock the boot. She was about to join Gaia at the back of the car when she realised that Clarisse had not stirred from the seat beside her, and was staring ahead as if afraid to move.

  ‘Clarisse …’ Nada looked at her. ‘This is going to be great. I mean, this place …’

  Clarisse sighed. ‘It’s amazing, but it’s amazing because Tamsyn booked it, you know? She should be here. And it’s all so unlike her. I’ve sent her another text; still no reply.’ She shook her head. ‘Just give me an hour or so and I’m sure I’ll stop worrying about it.’

  ‘An hour or so and maybe I can pour us the first drink of the weekend?’ Nada offered, opening the door and climbing out of the car.

  ‘Nada!’ protested Clarisse as she stepped out as well. ‘It’s not even two o’clock yet!’ It was an overly theatrical reaction, and yet her look of pretend shock had a hint of genuine surprise. Nada was hardly one to encourage copious drinking.

  Gaia dumped her suitcase on the gravel and said: ‘Girls, we’re on hen-do time, remember? Alcohol restrictions are off. Once the others get here with the food and drink, the party begins!’

  Clarisse shook her head but also gave a little giggle, and Nada and Gaia exchanged a look of relief. It was a good sign.

  They had all agreed before they boarded the flight that they were going to make sure Clarisse had a good time, no matter what.

  Two

  The house was every bit as impressive as it looked from the outside.

  Tamsyn had forwarded the instructions from the owner, and they’d spent a few minutes figuring out how to access the key box. But once the fumbling was over and they’d got in, it was immediately apparent that they were somewhere exceptional, and the girls quickly separated, drifting around the rooms and uttering sounds of awe across the halls to each other.

  It was the sort of house that made you feel small: the corridors were long enough to swallow up the sound of your footsteps, and the stone walls seemed thick enough to hold another set of rooms inside them. Despite this, however, it was not forbiddingly grand or unwelcoming; there was a rustic quality to the decor that was comfortable and homely, with rich oak furniture and thick rugs colouring parquet floors.

  Most promisingly, Nada found a large fireplace in the living room. The sight brought a smile to her lips. Whenever she had imagined this weekend, she had pictured the group of friends gathered around a fire, tipsy on wine. At the other end of the room there was a long dining table: the perfect place for meals, drinks and games.

  ‘The setting for tonight’s revelries,’ Gaia pointed out as she and Clarisse joined her, looking at the sofas grouped around the fireplace and the table

  ‘Revelries? Have you got something planned?’ asked Clarisse with mock-suspicion.

  ‘Oh please,’ Nada said. ‘Gaia’s always got something up her sleeve, even on quiet nights. God knows what she’s got in store for this weekend.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it. It’s going to be wicked.’ Gaia’s eyes shone with excitement.

  The words had the desired effect. Clarisse squirmed gleefully, happy with the promise of mischief. There was still a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she was playing her part well enough, and that was going to have to do for now.

  Something caught Nada’s eye. ‘Well that’s a bit weird,’ she said.

  Hanging on the wall not far from the fireplace was a painting. She had barely noticed it at first; it had seemed to blend in with everything else in the house. But the more she looked at it, the more remarkable it became.

  All the other paintings in the house were pleasant but unremarkable landscapes of Jersey. There was even a series of pictures on the opposite wall that just depicted the same cliff from different angles, all named Geoffrey’s Leap.

  But the one that had attracted Nada’s attention was altogether different.

  The first thing that was noticeable about the painting was how dark it was. It was like the frame had been dipped into black paint, and only a yellow-and-green pool of colour in the middle survived. All around the edges, thunderclouds and tumultuous sea blurred into each other. In the centre, a horde of women were riding on horseback out of the sky, piercing through the clouds with a flash of sickly yellow. They were bare-breasted, their robes flowing from their middles as they charged forward. The leader wore a malicious grimace, her eyes full of rage as she readied her bow and arrow to shoot. Underneath them was a crowd of panic-stricken women on a dark beach, fleeing for their lives, terror written across their features. Some of them already had arrows embedded in their backs and limbs, about to tumble onto the sand with their mouths agape.

  ‘A bit creepy, isn’t it?’ said Nada. ‘I mean, it’s completely out of place.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ answered Gaia, pointing at the bottom of the frame. It said: The Wild Witch Hunt of Herodias, 1862.

  ‘Isn’t that …’ Nada began.

  ‘… the name of the house. Herodias.’ Clarisse finished Nada’s sentence. Her voice was strangely quiet.

  ‘So the house was named after her?’ Nada pointed at the warrior leading the hunt. ‘That’s odd.’

  ‘Let’s google her,’ offered Gaia.

  ‘That’s a point – is there Wi-Fi here?’

  Making their way back to the entrance hall, they found a folder with information for visitors. Gaia took it and sat down in the living room, twisting her tall, gangly frame into one of the strange contortions she insisted were comfortable for her, with one leg curling around under the other. She flicked through the pages until she came to the section about the internet and pulled out her smartphone.

  ‘It says there’s no reception here, so visitors rely on the landline and Wi-Fi. We’re supposed to log on to the HerodiasGuest network, but my phone can’t seem to find it. You?’

  Clarisse and Nada took out their own phones, but they couldn’t connect either. Gaia puffed in frustration, but put her phone away; Clarisse, however, kept hers in front of her, her brows knitted, refreshing the network list again and again. ‘How is Tamsyn going to contact us? What if she changes her mind and wants to come and join us?’ she said quietly.

  ‘Well, she knows where we are and what we’re doing
better than anyone, right?’ answered Gaia.

  ‘Come on,’ said Nada, suddenly conscious that too much time was being spent on the Wi-Fi and the painting. They were, after all, the only causes for concern in otherwise impeccable accommodation. Already she could feel the strain of constantly keeping the mood upbeat, but she was determined not to let Clarisse slip. ‘Let’s go and find our rooms. I can’t imagine the others will be long.’

  Once Afreya and Elena arrived, the house would start to feel a little fuller. And, Nada hoped, a little more festive too. Right now, the scale of the place made it feel daunting, unknown. Like they didn’t quite belong there yet.

  Clarisse nodded reluctantly, putting her phone away, and they left the room with one last glance at the painting.

  The upstairs floor was labyrinthine, with sets of smaller rooms tucked away in every imaginable corner. They had to split apart again to explore the bedrooms.

  ‘I think I’ve found your room, Clarisse,’ Gaia called from across the hall.

  Nada and Clarisse followed the sound of her voice. Sure enough, this was the only candidate for the best bedroom in the house. The wide windows let in streams of light, and outside there was a view of the green Jersey hills, spotted with white cows There was also an en suite bathroom, and the large, luxurious bed was heaped with layer upon layer of unnecessary pillows.

  ‘You’ll manage, right?’ grinned Gaia.

  Clarisse smiled. ‘I’ll find a way to cope,’ she said. The words were clearly meant to be sarcastic, but they didn’t quite come out that way.

  Nada walked to the window. ‘You can see the sea from here,’ she said, almost to herself. Beyond the rolling greenery there was a ribbon of grey. Upon arrival at the airport, when they’d bought coffee and rented their cars, it had been easy to pretend that they were in England still. But here, the sea delineating the skyline was a stark reminder that London was a world away, on the other side of the horizon. She suspected that it was exactly why Tamsyn had picked Jersey, along with the fact that she’d grown up there and knew it well: it was far from the troubles of their everyday existence. And yet something in that sight made Nada’s insides squirm a little. She’d rarely been this far from home, or from her mum, and hadn’t been abroad in a long time.