The Complex E-Book

Michael Walters

• Herausgeber: Salt
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The countryside, the near future. Gabrielle Hunter, husband Leo and son Stefan drive to a remote luxury retreat for a spring break at the invitation of new client Art Fisher, who will be there with his wife, Polly, and daughter Fleur. As Gabrielle's family approach the retreat, their car hits a deer. Investigating, they discover it was dying already, from a bullet wound. The two families settle in. Stefan falls into a relaxed companionship with Fleur, while Leo finds himself drawn to Polly. Gabrielle, meanwhile, has some unresolved issues around Art. Off-grid and away from the Areas, Leo and Art jockey for position. Subtle shifts of power are magnified. Gabrielle and Polly have their own secrets. In the garden, the fruit and vegetables ripen too early, while an unidentified shooter continues to take down animals in the wood. Stefan and Fleur seek an escape route into a Virtual Reality darkened by the shadow of war. The family holiday that already resembles a bad dream soon turns into a waking nightmare.

Leseprobe

SYNOPSIS

The countryside, the near future.

Gabrielle Hunter, husband Leo and son Stefan drive to a remote luxury retreat for a spring break at the invitation of new client Art Fisher, who will be there with his wife, Polly, and daughter Fleur. As Gabrielle’s family approach the retreat, their car hits a deer. Investigating, they discover it was dying already, from a bullet wound.

The two families settle in. Stefan falls into a relaxed companionship with Fleur, while Leo finds himself drawn to Polly. Gabrielle, meanwhile, has some unresolved issues around Art.

Off-grid and away from the Areas, Leo and Art jockey for position. Subtle shifts of power are magnified. Gabrielle and Polly have their own secrets. In the garden, the fruit and vegetables ripen too early, while an unidentified shooter continues to take down animals in the wood. Stefan and Fleur seek an escape route into a Virtual Reality darkened by the shadow of war.

The family holiday that already resembles a bad dream soon turns into a waking nightmare.

PRAISE FOR THIS BOOK

‘Captures the elusive nature of dreams and nightmares brilliantly. It’s original, cinematic, and very clever.’ —LUCIE MCKNIGHT HARDY

‘The Complex is a lucid, menacing and utterly captivating novel, as elegantly designed as a labyrinth but as touching and human and chaotic as your own mind. Its hypnotic blend of technological horror and psychological accuracy, the intensity of its troubled characters and deeply eerie location worked its way into my dreams and I don’t think it’s going away. Like the very best speculative fiction it feels less like speculation than a present-day novel somehow transported back to us from the near future, not so much to warn us as to let us see more clearly where we are now.’ —LUKE KENNARD

‘Enigmatic and unsettling, with elements of Black Mirror and J. G. Ballard, The Complex is a gripping tale about the chilling, disorientating effect of technology on our lives.’ —TREVOR MARK THOMAS

The Complex

MICHAEL WALTERSwas born in Port Talbot, South Wales, in 1973. He studied astrophysics at the University of Kent, then spent a year training to be a journalist before becoming a computer programmer. In his spare time, he studied creative writing, first at the Open University, then completing an MA in Creative Writing with Manchester Metropolitan University. He is currently a software developer and lives with his wife and two children in North Yorkshire.

Published by Salt Publishing Ltd

12 Norwich Road, Cromer, Norfolk NR27 0AX

All rights reserved

Copyright © Michael Walters,2019

The right ofMichael Waltersto be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Salt Publishing.

Salt Publishing 2019

Created by Salt Publishing Ltd

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out,or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN 978-1-78463-163-5 electronic

for Gill

SUNDAY

Stefan: Track 1

Stefan felt ahand on his ankle. He took his headphones off.

‘You okay?’ his mother said. She had twisted her arm behind the car seat to reach him.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Tired.’

‘Me too, sweetie.’ She paused, then said, ‘Try not to kick the back of my seat. Okay?’

‘Sorry.’

She took her hand away and he put the headphones back on. He hadn’t kicked her seat. Jesus. They had been driving for ever and outside his window there was still only the close wall of grey forest. The road had become dusty track an hour ago and there was no grid map to tell him how far there was to go. Every now and then the whole car jolted as his father found another pothole. His parents had bickered the whole way. It was a sort of hell. Any excitement at being out of the Areas was long gone.

The pillow was comfortable. That was something.

Another hand on his ankle, his father this time. He took his headphones off.

‘What’s up?’ Stefan said.

‘You’re doing good,’ his father said, glancing back at him. ‘It’s a long way.’

‘Watch the road, Leo,’ his mother said.

Maya said: ‘Cannot connect to grid.’

‘I wish we hadn’t brought her with us,’ his mother said. ‘Did we have to bring her with us?’

‘How can you say that?’ Stefan said. ‘She’s family.’

‘She’s annoying,’ his mother said. ‘And useless.’

Stefan said, ‘Well, at least she doesn’t kick the seat.’

He put his headphones back on. There was no music playing – he wanted the silence. Some perverse impulse made him lift one side of his headphones just enough to hear his parents’ hard, muffled voices, just like through his bedroom wall at home. It was torture, but a familiar one. He let the headphones fall back and closed his eyes.

Packing the car had been fun. His father was in good spirits and Stefan had gone with him to pick the car up. The car had come with its own AI unit, but Stefan wanted Maya, a piece of home. His father had sorted it. Once they were out of the Areas his mother had relaxed and for a few hours she was almost her old self again. Turning into the mountains, leaving the grid, his father had switched the car to manual and a wheel had popped up from the floor with a smooth, comical hiss, insinuating itself between his father’s legs. They had all laughed.

The tarmacked road had been wide enough for two cars, the forest still shy and some way off on either side of them. After a couple of miles, the tree trunks had sidled closer and closer until the road was single track and lined with thick firs that blocked all sunlight. Higher and higher, the road had taken them into mountain wilderness. The occasional abandoned stone cottage lay along the way, traces of some other way of life now gone. Then the luxury of concrete was behind them and the tyres began to crackle on branches and stones.

Another hand, on his calf this time. He opened his eyes. His mother. Now what had he done? He waited a second before taking his headphones off.

‘Hey,’ Stefan said.

‘Sorry,’ his mother said. ‘It’s a long journey. I didn’t mean to snap at you.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘It can’t be far,’ his father said, not sounding at all sure.

Giving Stefan a quick smile, his mother turned to face front again. She pointed ahead. ‘Leo, look.’

‘That must be the top,’ his father said.

Maya said: ‘Cannot connect to grid.’

Stefan could see a speck of light. ‘Did the other guys come this way?’

‘They must have,’ his mother said.

His father looked up through the windscreen. ‘Didn’t they helicopter in?’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

‘Don’t wind me up,’ his mother said.

‘What’s the girl’s name again?’ Stefan said. ‘Fleur?’ He knew it was Fleur, but now they were almost there he wanted more information.

‘Yes, Fleur,’ his mother said.

‘Is it short for something? Like Florence?’

‘That would be Flo,’ his father said. ‘As in, go with the... She can be your study buddy.’

‘And she’s on the science track too,’ his mother said.

‘You can swap notes,’ his father said.

The light they were driving towards took an age to arrive. He continued to look between his parents’ shoulders at the car’s white-yellow headlights on the brown dirt track. It was like an excruciatingly dull video game.

Something glistened in the corner of his eye. His mother was wearing earrings he hadn’t seen before. The one that had caught his eye was very small, silver, with a tiny white crystal set in it.

His mother flinched away from him and put a hand protectively over her ear. ‘Stop breathing on my neck.’

He didn’t mention the earrings.

They emerged suddenly from the trees into open field, the green grass high and thick on either side. The car juddered around quite a bit, the surface roughening even further.

‘I can’t believe anyone ever comes up here but forest rangers,’ his father said.

‘It’s wild,’ his mother said. ‘Perhaps we need a bit of wild.’

The thought of stopping soon helped him ignore the icky feeling in his stomach. The track banked left, then tightened. The grass dropped steeply away. Stefan found himself looking out into an ocean of space, the distant graph of a mountain range in the far, far distance. Dear God. He put his hands on his stomach and crossed his legs again, knocking the seat in front of him.

‘Stefan!’ his mother said. ‘How many times?’

He put his headphones back on and closed his eyes. He wondered what Fleur looked like. The Fisher family had money – that much he had found out easily enough. Fisher Industries had offices all over the world. She was probably out of his league, living in one of the expensive apartments in an uptown block off Hub Park. He imagined floating, like a gull, dozens of floors up, looking in through one of the enormous windows he had often looked up at. A young woman in a short, black dress, looking out, not seeing him. Bare, tanned arms and long black hair. He couldn’t make her face appear though. She was still in the future, and, looking at the palatial apartment she lived in, not his future.

He opened his eyes. Gloom again. They were back in the trees, but heading down, which was something. His mother was talking. He lifted one side of his headphones again.

‘It’s a gift,’ his mother was saying.

‘All right.’

‘If it was all right, you wouldn’t keep bringing it up.’

‘I just said—’

‘Can we try and enjoy ourselves?’

‘It’s not me who’s—’

Maya said: ‘Cannot connect to grid.’

‘That fucking voice,’ his mother said, looking up, as if Maya were a creature on the roof.

Stefan looked across at his stuff scattered on the seat next to him. He was looking for his stress ball. There, next to his college bag. He picked it up and started to squeeze it hard.

‘It’s a good job he’s got his headphones on,’ his father said.

‘Christ, Leo. He’s a man, now. He can handle some bad language.’ Then, after a pause, softly, ‘This might be good for us.’

His father let out a long breath through his nose.

Stefan took his headphones off, stretched his arms above his head and gave a loud sigh.

‘Are you with us for this last bit?’ his mother said.

‘I am always with you,’ Stefan said, in his evil voice.

‘Not for much longer,’ she said. ‘Look, I’m sorry I shouted at you. This week will do all of us some good. It’s been a rubbish year so far. Hasn’t it?’

Stefan nodded. She twisted around to look at him, so he nodded again, for her benefit. His father looked back sympathetically.

Maya said: ‘Cannot connect to grid.’

‘Will there be grid when we get there?’ Stefan asked.

‘I imagine so,’ his mother said.

‘I couldn’t find the place on the map.’

‘I think there used to be military buildings up here. I don’t suppose they wanted those places mapped.’

‘It’s actually a boot camp, isn’t it?’ his father said, giving one of his rare giggles. ‘You’re going to have us whipped into shape.’

His mother ignored him, and his father’s laughter dried up. He looked defeated, shifting his weight on his buttocks, trying again to find a comfortable position.

The track was steeper now and the banks on either side of the car were higher than the roof. In the bare earth Stefan could see thick, ugly roots snaking in and out. His father pressed the brakes and they slowed even further.

‘I hate this,’ his father said. ‘I hope I never have to drive again.’

Maya said: ‘Grid connected.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ his father said.

Stefan leant forward to look at the track. Nothing much had changed. Still dark and no end in sight, although they were dropping sharply.

Maya said: ‘Grid disconnected. Cannot connect to grid.’

His father threw his hands up. ‘Fuck!’

‘Language,’ his mother said. His father snorted.

‘Slow down,’ Stefan said, pointing.

‘What?’ his father said.

‘Leo!’ his mother shouted.

His father jammed his foot on the brake and the tyres locked, though the car kept going, carried by the slope and loose stones. Something went under the car and Stefan was jolted into the air, landing heavily. Whatever it was thumped the bottom of the car twice more before they were clear of it. The car stopped at a forty-five-degree angle, headlights pointing into the forest over a steep drop.

Nobody spoke. His mother looked back at him, then at his father.

‘Everyone okay?’ she said.

Maya said: ‘Obstacle on the road.’

His mother gave a dry laugh.

‘A rock?’ his father said.

‘Animal,’ Stefan said.

Through the rear window, he could see the track bathed in red from the brake lights and, about ten metres back, a body. Stefan opened his door.

‘Wait,’ his father said.

Stefan ignored him and got out. He jogged back up the hill. The body wasn’t moving. His forearms prickled in the cold. The car engine stopped, and the red light disappeared. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the low light. It was a deer lying on its side, back towards him, one leg sticking unnaturally up in the air. He walked around it, giving it a wide berth, looking for any sign of movement. The scrape of his shoes was muted by the weight of the forest air. It was like the trees were watching him. Everything seemed brittle and he felt like he had violated something just by getting out of the car. He felt like an intruder.

The deer’s tail was soft and white, another leg bent and broken under its flank. Stefan squatted next to it. Blood was matted in the fur and clumps of black matter lay thick in streaks on the track where the car had dragged it. It wasn’t big. It had two stubs for antlers, which were furry and looked soft. He didn’t dare touch it. A young male.

His mother was walking up the track slowly, watching him.

‘You okay?’ she said, her voice deadened in the cold forest air.

The buck’s eyes were open. Tiny shakes ran through its head and neck, though its body was still. Eyes like dark chocolate. What did the deer see? He put the back of his hand on the deer’s cheek. Its tongue came out of its mouth, as if to lick him, but then went slack. The eyes stopped following him.

A single, violent sob came into Stefan’s chest, escaping before he could pull it back.

‘Stefan?’ his mother said, coming next to him, stepping over the smear of intestines and blood. He could smell it now.

‘Are you sure it’s dead?’ his father called, standing by his car door. ‘Be careful.’

His mother crouched with him.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘That’s a bullet hole.’

‘I don’t want to look.’

She picked up a twig and ruffled the buck’s fur on its side. He looked away. She scanned the trees and they both listened. His skin tightened, and he looked with fresh attention at the trees around them.

‘We should get going,’ his mother said. ‘It hasn’t been dead very long.’

‘Everything okay?’ called his father, still by the car.

‘It’s dead,’ she said, walking down the track. ‘It was dead before we hit it. Someone’s hunting.’

Stefan didn’t say anything. With a final look at the deer, he walked quickly back down the hill and got in the car.

‘If it was alive it would have put a serious dent in the car,’ his father said.

Stefan slammed his door. ‘Can we get going?’ he said.

‘Should we move it?’ his father said.

‘No,’ his mother said. ‘Let’s just go.’

They continued their descent, slower now. His grandad’s face came into his mind, but he pushed it away. They could be in someone’s rifle sight right now. A crack of glass. A small, black hole in his mother’s neck or in the back of his father’s head.

He slunk down in his seat, put his headphones on and closed his eyes.

Gabrielle: Symptoms

Gabrielle tried toenjoy the view over the valley, but her mind kept returning to the neat bullet hole in the deer’s side. A rifle.

Maya said: ‘Grid connected.’

‘Civilisation,’ Leo said.

When she found out Leo had brought Maya with them, she had wanted to punch him. This was supposed to be a week away. Maya’s saccharine voice was home. Routine. Boredom. Also, since they had left the grid, Maya had become even more infuriating. To top everything off, Gabrielle had developed a rash on the back of her legs that was itchy as hell.

‘That must be it,’ Leo said. ‘At last. I was beginning to think it didn’t exist.’

There was a steep bank covered in wildflowers and the road moved back and forth across it, easing them down. The sun helped her mood.

She tapped Stefan’s ankle. ‘Look at this!’

There was a stone wall following the road at the bank’s base which ended at an arched entrance and a white building partially hidden by trees. The drive u-turned into the grounds and kept going, cutting across open fields and out of sight.

‘Stefan?’ She turned. Leo took them around another hairpin on their journey down the bank. Stefan’s face was pale, and he had his eyes closed. It was no surprise he was car sick. He had never been in a car this long before. As if sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes and pulled his headphones off.

‘What now?’ he said.

‘We’re there.’

Stefan grunted and opened his window. A cool breeze replaced the air conditioning. ‘Flowers,’ he said.

It was quite a display – whites, blues, greens and yellows – she hadn’t noticed. Leo turned the car one last time and they were at the bottom. The car gave a little bump as it mounted smooth tarmac.

‘Oh, thank God,’ Stefan said, sitting up straighter. ‘What a trip.’

At the arched entrance, Leo stopped the car and peered up. ‘What does it say on the keystone?’ he said.

‘Semper vigilantes,’ Stefan said. ‘Anyone?’

‘Be vigilant?’ Leo said.

‘Always watching,’ Gabrielle said.

‘Well, that’s good to know,’ Stefan said, putting his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed the muscles there and she gave an exasperated laugh. He dug his thumbs deep into them until she groaned. She forced her shoulders down.

‘I’m sorry it was a long trip for you,’ she said, crossing her arms across her chest to put her hands on his. ‘You’ve got strong thumbs.’

‘Where are we, Maya?’ Stefan said, sitting back.

Maya said: ‘I can’t access our coordinates.’

‘Maya,’ Leo said. ‘Are you connected to the grid?’

‘Yes.’

‘Call our house number.’

After a short pause, Maya said: ‘I cannot connect.’

Leo sighed. ‘It’s a start.’

They drove through the arch. In front of them was a high privet hedge, much more imposing than it had looked from the bank. The drive went right, up a long slope to a ridge. To their left was the white building. There was space for two cars to park on white gravel and an unusually wide black front door set in the white plaster with two large tinted windows on either side of it. Shadows of branches danced on the white walls. The sun was getting low.

‘It has a face,’ Stefan said. ‘Like an owl. See?’

Gabrielle nodded. An evil fucking owl. ‘You’re right.’

Leo was looking up at the hedge through the windscreen. ‘That’s a little intimidating,’ he said. ‘And a nightmare to trim. Neat job, though, whoever did it.’

‘No cars in the drive,’ Stefan said.

‘Keep going,’ Gabrielle said, trying to hide her unease. The house’s tinted windows bothered her. ‘That’s not it.’

Leo drove them on. The open, lush fields immediately made her feel better. It was a smooth ride now, luxurious after a gloomy afternoon on forest track. She tapped a quick beat on her legs with her fingers.

‘You can smell the grass,’ Stefan said.

Gabrielle could see Stefan’s arm stretched out of the window in her side mirror. He sounded happier, thank God. This week was her doing and she wanted it to work. It had been hard to organise, and it was risky in all sorts of ways, but what else could she have done? Art had given her few options. The deer was just bad luck. It was hunting season, she was sure, and Art would know who owned the forest. Not that it mattered. The hunter would have claimed the deer by now, probably cursing them for messing up his prize.

The car scraped on the ground as Leo took them over the ridge. She was about to say something, but the new vista stopped her. Leo pulled over.

‘Good grief,’ Stefan said, sitting forward to look through the windscreen. ‘It’s like a space station.’

‘More like a warehouse,’ Leo said.

It wasn’t what Gabrielle expected. The small country house Art had put in her head was not this. This was a single-storey behemoth that stretched across the base of the hills, more like a corporate headquarters than a holiday home. They were still half a kilometre away, but she could see the front was almost entirely glass, floor to roof, the late afternoon sun hitting it, making it look like a reflective visor.

‘Can you imagine the heating bills?’ Leo said.

‘I bet it’s all solar,’ Stefan said. ‘The roof is flat. It’s probably covered in panels.’

Gabrielle scratched irritably at the back of her leg. ‘I’m sure it’s beautiful inside.’

Leo drove on. The driveway ran across the front of the building and curved into a small car park to the right, next to a grey stone annexe. There was a high red-brick wall running down the hill, merging with another imposing privet hedge halfway.

‘Art said there was a walled garden,’ Gabrielle said.

‘Is that a hedge maze?’ Stefan said.

Gabrielle heard the edge in his voice. Almost an adult and he still hadn’t forgotten. ‘You don’t have to go in,’ she said.

‘Too right.’

There was a big black Mercedes van jutting across the car park entrance and Leo had to carefully manoeuvre their small hire car around it.

‘Nice of them to leave us a space,’ Leo said, parking in a power bay and turning the engine off.

Maya said: ‘Charging.’

‘What’s Polly like?’ Stefan asked.

‘I haven’t met her,’ Gabrielle said.

‘You haven’t met her?’ Stefan said. ‘Really?’

She felt stung. Had she given the impression she had? Perhaps. She couldn’t remember. It was all so complicated, and she felt miserable because of course she wasn’t going to be able to escape it all. The opposite, in fact.

‘Art’s a work friend,’ she said.

‘A client and a friend,’ Leo said.

‘To be honest,’ she said, ‘I didn’t even know he was married until he invited us here.’ That was true.

‘And Fleur?’ Stefan said.

‘Well, yes. He had mentioned Fleur.’ She felt cornered. ‘I just didn’t think about it.’

‘Someone’s coming,’ Leo said, opening his door quickly and stepping out. Stefan got out too, slamming his door behind him.

Gabrielle undid her seatbelt, opened the car door but didn’t get out. Clearly, this was all a terrible mistake. Too late now. The Mercedes had tinted windows like the gatehouse and the old anxiety rolled over her. She liked to know who was looking out.

A voice, soft but clear in the silence: ‘You must be Stefan!’ Two air kisses. A generic uptown accent. Gabrielle knew the type – expensively dressed, graceful in that privileged way. Fine. She’d met enough of them. She got out of the car and went around the front of the Mercedes, the opposite way to the men, hoping to catch the other woman off-guard. The woman was small, with dark hair pulled back in a bun and held in place with a pencil. She wore tight blue jeans and a loose white blouse. Pleasantly pretty. Normal-looking.

‘This is your boy?’ the woman said, turning to Gabrielle. ‘He is going to break some hearts.’

‘I’m Gabrielle,’ Gabrielle said, stepping forward with her hand out.

‘Polly,’ the woman said, frowning at Gabrielle’s hand, before taking it and stepping in, kissing Gabrielle on both cheeks. Her perfume was grassy and unfamiliar. ‘Art has told me all about you.’ A beat. ‘I like your earrings.’

Gabrielle gave a thin smile. ‘Thank you. I like your perfume.’

‘A birthday present.’

Leo came around the back of the Mercedes with Gabrielle’s suitcase in one hand and Stefan’s tennis bag in the other. Stefan moved past Gabrielle into the house.

‘How was the journey?’ Polly said to Leo, touching his arm lightly and falling into step with him.

Gabrielle let them go ahead. It was already Sunday evening. Five days. It was hardly worth unpacking. The trees above her were still – it was extraordinary, being out of the Areas like this. It was twenty years since the holiday at the High Beaches after her graduation. Being here hardly felt real. She realised her arms had goose bumps. She scratched behind one knee, then the other. Dusk was approaching.

‘Mum,’ Stefan said from the doorway. ‘You’ve got to see this. It’s amazing.’

‘I’m coming,’ she said. ‘I am.’

She followed her son, watching his tall, slim figure disappear down a corridor into the enormous glass-fronted space which she could now see in its full length. There were no walls. The floor was polished oak all the way to the end. It was a hundred metres to the far window. She felt dizzy looking at it. The hallway was dark in comparison, even with the white plastered walls, and she felt like a hermit crab nervously peering out into open water. The dizziness increased so that she had to put her hand on the wall to steady herself. She studied her shoes, nausea rising, hoping hard that this one would pass. Her legs shook, so she squatted, then twisted herself and sat with her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. Her heart was beating too fast.

‘Come on,’ she said under her breath. ‘You’re okay.’

Her breathing slowed. She opened her eyes again and felt her face screw up like she was about to sob, but the tears didn’t come. She took a deep breath. Good. It was going away.

She got back to her feet. Determined not to be found hiding in the hallway, she kept her eyes on the floor and walked through to the main part of the house. She couldn’t work out what triggered the attacks. That time it was the open space. The other times were different. The knots and lines in the oak floorboards were mesmerising in the late evening sun. She glanced at the window, nervous of more nausea, but instead she felt awe at the clarity of the outside world through the wall of glass. It was as if she could step directly onto the bright green grass. The rear of the house was glass too, albeit only in the central section, looking out on a neatly cut lawn, a swimming pool with a patio, and the beginnings of the woods on the hill behind. The ceiling had metal beams criss-crossing it at odd angles high above her.

Someone was in the pool, but from where she was, she couldn’t tell who.

Leo called to her from the other end of the building. ‘Nice little kitchen,’ he said. The furthest area was partitioned off by another white wall and in it there were rugs on the floor and a sofa. She walked quickly towards the normality of soft furnishings.

‘The bedrooms are through there,’ he continued, waving at a doorway next to the end of the kitchen countertop. It was a pleasingly ordinary, if expensive-looking, kitchen, with a large table and six chairs. ‘Ours is the first door on the right. I’m just going to get my case from the car. Then it’s the food and other bits and bobs.’ He was talking as he walked away from her, but then stopped, frowning at her. ‘You don’t look well.’

‘Long drive,’ she said.

‘Why don’t you go and have a lie down? I can bring everything in. Everyone will understand.’

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Oh, all over. This place is crazy. Our host is in the pool. I think he’s trying to kill the water.’

Leo continued to the car and Gabrielle went out to the pool side. There were five thin plinths of various heights on the lawn, each with a similar dirty-white stone sat on top. Crystalline but opaque, each stone was the size of a human head. From where she was the group of stones looked like a very unhappy and malnourished family. The pool was in shade. Art was ploughing away from her, his big shoulders churning the water, legs kicking hard. At the end, he did an awkward roll and pushed off. He swam right the way back to her but didn’t look up. He did another roll, the water slapping over the sides and onto the patio slabs, making her jump back.

She didn’t know if he had seen her or not. It would be just like him to finish his workout before saying hello. Well, fine.

Deflated, she decided to see what their room for the week was like. She didn’t linger to look at the view again. She really was tired.

Their room was blah – abstract prints over the bed, an en-suite bathroom. The window was opaque, which seemed silly. Why not a view of the garden? But she was too tired to care.

She lay down and closed her eyes.

She dreamt she was in a hospital ward. It was a long, old-fashioned one, like in the War, with a dozen beds on each side. They were all empty except the bed at the very end, which was lit up with a ray of sunlight from a high window. There was a person in the bed, head wrapped in bandages. As she got closer, she could see it was a man in pale green pyjamas made from a translucent material that meant she could see the hair on his chest, stomach and legs. His penis was visible through his pyjama bottoms, fat and limp, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed. Only the man’s head was bandaged, but the white cotton went from his neck to the top of his head. There were no holes for mouth, nose, ears or eyes. He seemed to be staring at the far wall, not noticing her.

‘Hello?’ she said. The man didn’t move. Were there ears under there? Her heart quickened. ‘Are you okay?’

She stopped short, keeping a bed between her and the man. There was a hard-backed chair next to him and she knew she was supposed to sit in it. She really, really didn’t want to. Her body moved against her will, her legs betraying her, leading her to the side of the bed. She noticed the man had no arms. Her heart was beating hard now, and she was short of breath. He was still not looking at her, if he was even alive. Her body tried to make her sit and her legs quivered with the effort of staying standing. It was useless. She sat in the chair, terrified now, but also furious. She could see each stray strand of white cotton on his bandaged face. The man’s head didn’t move.

A hand touched her arm.

She screamed.

Leo was looking at her with wide eyes. ‘Christ, Gaby, you scared the shit out of me.’

She was lying on her back. Her palms were damp, and she felt clammy all over. Her clothes stuck to her skin. ‘Bad dream,’ she said.

‘You were really tired,’ Leo said.

‘What time is it?’ She hated sleeping in the day, it made her think of childhood illnesses. Her face felt puffy and her eyes were crusted.

‘Almost eight.’ Leo crouched next to her. ‘Dinner soon.’

‘Jesus, really? Why didn’t you wake me?’ She sat up too quickly and the room swirled.

‘You okay?’ Leo said.

‘Give me ten minutes.’

She closed the bathroom door and examined her face in the mirror. The dream was fading already. Someone in a hospital. Her eyes were baggy and black, what little eyeliner she had put on for the journey was smudged and her lips were dry. Horrific. She hated makeup, but her job required it. She still wasn’t used to having clients or having to look a certain way for them. But it would get better, she was sure, and anyway, this was her life now.

She washed her face with the cake of soap on the sink and cold water. She remembered what Polly had been wearing and decided on jeans with the yellow patterned shirt she liked. Fuck makeup. She was on holiday. She got a brush from her suitcase and untangled her hair, looking in the mirror again. Natural, brown waves. A gift from her mother, so her father had always said. Vague memories of a woman tugging at her hair with a pink-handled brush, black spirals in the cheap plastic. Her natural inclination was to put her hair up, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t sure why but having her hair down felt right.

As she approached the kitchen, she could hear Art talking loudly. He was performing for his new audience. The end of the corridor had a kink in it, so it felt a little like walking out onto a stage. Everyone was at the table. Art had turned his chair so that he had a view of the doorway. His face was animated, and he spotted her immediately.

‘There she is!’ he boomed. ‘Sleeping Beauty.’

Polly, Leo and Stefan were facing her on one side of the table. Opposite them, between Art and her own empty seat, was a young woman. Polly was smiling at Gabrielle in a fixed way.

‘This is Fleur,’ Art said.

The young woman turned. She was small, wiry and serious-looking. Her black hair was pulled back and accentuated her pale face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Gabrielle immediately liked her. The girl nodded, and Gabrielle nodded back, trying not to smile too much.

Art pushed his chair back and came towards Gabrielle, arms out theatrically. He looked like he was at the office in his grey suit trousers and a white, collared shirt. No socks, though. A concession. He held her arms firmly and kissed her on both cheeks. She looked, curious, at his bare feet.

‘Bohemian,’ she said. She was glad to see him.

‘Holiday,’ he replied.

He put his arm casually through hers and walked her, smiling, to the table. Gabrielle tried to act naturally.

‘Hello,’ Fleur said. ‘Nice to meet you.’