[Wordsmiff]

CHAPTER EIGHT


As dusk approached and it started to get a bit darker, they decided to take a break and finish off the rest of the sandwiches.

They all sat on the floor in a circle and chatted about general stuff. Kirsty and Becky did not know about Edward and Amy didn’t want them to know, so neither she nor Melanie mentioned him.

“So, if there’s no water,” Kirsty enquired, “How do I have a bath or shower?”

“You don’t,” Amy stated.

“What?” Kirsty yelled, “I can’t go a whole weekend without a bath.”

“You’ll survive,” Amy said.

Melanie took out a few candles and placed them in suitable locations around the room. She struck a match and lit the candles, brightening up the room somewhat.

As there was still a bit of natural light, and the barest glint from a streetlamp, entering through the window, they decided to change into their nightwear. Amy and Melanie wore pyjamas and slippers.

Amy had decided that, even though her camcorder had a night-vision facility and the night was still early, she would not bother to get any more footage of Kirsty until the next day. She left the remote control in her jeans and just decided to chill out with the others and enjoy the sleepover for a bit.

Becky and Kirsty were a bit more daring in their choice of nightwear and had both had brought skimpy nighties and went barefoot.

“So, how come there’s all these dolls here?” Becky asked, looking round the room, as she changed.

“Don’t know,” Amy lied. “Maybe the previous owner had little kids.”

“Little kids don’t play with realistic, fully operational, inflatable men and women,” Becky said.

“Isn’t this place supposed to be haunted?” Kirsty asked.

“Yeah,” Becky said. “The old man that used to live here, apparently.

“Hey,” Kirsty said, “You don’t suppose these were his?”

Amy just shrugged. It was not the time to discuss Edward.

“Right,” Amy said, slumping onto the bed and changing the subject. “What now?”

“How about some music?” Becky asked.

“It’s not that No Direction, is it?” Kirsty said.

“No,” Becky said, “I’ve brought something good.”

“Like?” Amy questioned.

Becky went over to her bag and pulled out a portable CD player and a CD. “Beatles!” She put the disc into the machine and connected up a set of mini-speakers to the earphone socket. She switched it on.

The music started and the Beatles began singing.

“I need a shit,” Melanie said, over the first song.

“Don’t choose your words carefully, Mel,” Becky said, sarcastically, “Just say what you’re thinking.”

Melanie ignored her, got up and took a toilet roll from her bag.

“You can’t use the toilet,” Amy said, “It doesn’t flush. We don’t want your poo stinking us out all weekend.”

“Go outside in the garden,” Kirsty added.

Melanie didn’t seem to be in the mood for arguing. She took a torch and went out onto the landing. Her footsteps could be heard going downstairs.

After a couple of songs, Kirsty and Becky grabbed hairbrushes to use as microphones.

The next song got going. Amy watched, agog, as Kirsty and Becky joined in with the song, singing and dancing along with the music, mostly out of tune and not certain that they were getting the words right, but they were just having a good time.

Amy couldn’t help noticing certain exchanges of looks between the two girls as they sang. Was there something between them, she wondered.

Becky: Well, shake it up, baby, now...
Kirsty: Shake it up, baby.
Becky: Twist and shout...
Kirsty: Twist and shout.
Becky: C’mon c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now...
Kirsty: Come on baby.
Becky: Come on and work it all out...
Kirsty: Work it all out.

Becky: Well, work it all out...
Kirsty: Work it all out.
Becky: You know you look so good... (she looks at Kirsty)
Kirsty: Look so good.
Becky: You know you got me goin’, now...
Kirsty: Got me goin’ (Kirsty exchanges a seductive glance with Becky)
Becky: Just like I knew you would...
Kirsty: Like I knew you would.

Becky: Well, shake it up, baby, now...
Kirsty: Shake it up, baby.
Becky: Twist and shout...
Kirsty: Twist and shout.
Becky: C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now...
Kirsty: Come on baby.
Becky: Come on and work it all out...
Kirsty: Work it all out!
Becky: (looks at Kirsty as she sings this bit...) You know you’re a twisty little girl...
Kirsty: Twisty little girl. (Kirsty winks at Becky)
Becky: You know you twist so fine...
Kirsty: Twist so fine...
Becky: Come on and...

This went on for the whole song, and several others, and Amy eventually joined in with a bit of air guitar and vocals.

When the CD had finished playing, Becky switched it off.

“That it?” Kirsty asked. She was just starting to enjoy herself.

“Mel’s been gone a while,” Becky observed. “It must have been about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah,” Kirsty said, “It don’t take twenty minutes to take a dump.”

“Maybe she’s having trouble finding a suitable spot,” Amy suggested.

“I doubt if she’s gone far in the dark.” Becky sounded genuinely concerned.

Just then, Melanie popped her head round the door. “Ames?” she said, “Can I have a word?”

Amy looked at Becky and Kirsty. “Wait here,” she said. She went out to join Melanie on the landing. “What?”

Melanie had the torch in one hand and an old newspaper, from the pile at the bottom of the stairs, in the other hand. “Take a look at this,” she said offering Amy the newspaper. “That paper’s thirty years old.”

“So,” Amy said, taking the newspaper from her friend, “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” Melanie shone the torch at the newspaper. “Take a look at the picture and article on that page.”

Amy looked at the faded picture in the equally faded newspaper. “It’s...it’s Edward.” She tried to read the headline beneath the picture, as Melanie focussed the torch. “It says ‘Edward Sutton disappears.” She turned to Melanie, “Keep the torch still.” She started to read the article. “Still no trace of eccentric millionaire, Edward Sutton, 84, who disappeared last week...” She looked at Melanie. “Eighty-four? That would make him a hundred and fourteen now. Are you sure it’s Edward?”

“It’s Edward, all right.”

“Who’s Edward?” It was Kirsty standing in the doorway.

“No-one,” Amy said to Kirsty. She returned her attention to Melanie. “He died?”

Melanie shook her head. “It says he ‘disappeared’. Not exactly the same thing.”

Amy recalled Edward dying AND disappearing just a few days ago. “Disappeared? When?”

“Thirty years ago,” Melanie added.

“From where?” Amy asked, “Here?”

Melanie shrugged. “Take another look at the picture.”

“Who’s Edward?” Kirsty again, louder this time.

Amy ignored Kirsty and studied the picture. “So?”

“He looked no older a few days ago than he did thirty years ago,” Melanie pointed out.

Amy agreed. That picture could have been taken last Saturday when she first saw Edward.

“I won’t ask you again,” Kirsty growled at Amy. “Who the fuck’s Edward?”

To be continued...

And, don’t worry, in a few chapters time, some of the loose ends will start to get tied up.