The Birthday Girl: The gripping new psychological thriller full of shocking twists and lies. Sue Fortin
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I look in the same direction as Andrea.
‘I thought I saw something behind those trees.’ She moves a step to her left, still holding on to my arm. ‘Through there. I definitely saw something.’
‘You’re getting jumpy,’ says Joanne. ‘There’s nothing out there.’
I watch as Joanne begins to walk towards the outer edge of the clearing. She doesn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered.
‘I can’t see anything out there,’ I say, in a bid to reassure Andrea, not to mention myself.
‘You’re winding us up,’ says Zoe. ‘Trying to spook us.’
‘I’m not. I swear there was something or someone out there,’ says Andrea. ‘Joanne! Don’t go. Stay here.’
‘Honestly, there’s nothing out there,’ says Joanne, continuing to make her way further into the trees. ‘I’ll prove it. Hello!’ she calls out. ‘Hello, Mr Fox or Mr Bogeyman. Are you there?’ Her voice echoes around the trees and bounces back from all sides.
‘What’s that there?’ says Andrea, pointing to the ground.
As I look, I’m met by the sight of a rabbit carcass, which has obviously been picked at and eaten by other forest animals.
‘That’s disgusting,’ says Zoe.
‘Yuk,’ says Andrea, turning away and looking in the direction Joanne went. ‘Where the hell has she gone?’
I scan the clearing and the trees beyond but I can’t see her. ‘Joanne? Joanne! Where are you?’
I let go of Andrea’s arm and head over to where I last saw her.
‘Don’t go off on your own,’ calls Andrea. She comes running over to me, Zoe hot on her heels.
‘She can’t have disappeared,’ says Zoe. ‘You don’t think—’
‘Shut up,’ snaps Andrea. ‘Joanne!’
‘But you said you saw something or someone out there,’ says Zoe.
I call for Joanne again, but there is still no answer. The others follow me.
‘All stay in sight,’ says Andrea. ‘I’ll look over here. Zoe, you go over there. Carys, you go straight ahead.’
Remaining in line and within sight of each other, the three of us move forward into the forest. I can feel my pulse rate increase and tension burrowing into the nape of my neck. Where could Joanne have gone? One minute she was here, the next vanished.
A noise to my left of rustling leaves makes me swing round. Suddenly, a figure jumps out in front of me.
‘Boo!’
I scream, which has the knock-on effect of making Andrea and Zoe scream too.
Joanne is standing in front of me, bent double with laughter.
‘You stupid fucking idiot!’ snaps Andrea. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘Oh my God, that was so funny,’ says Joanne, pausing to laugh again. ‘You should have seen your faces. Especially you, Carys. It was priceless.’
‘Bloody hilarious,’ I reply.
‘Ooh, were you worried about me?’ says Joanne, her laughter now subsided but her face still beaming with amusement. ‘Did you think the Bogeyman had got me? I’m touched by your concern.’
‘Not funny,’ says Zoe.
‘Where’s your sense of humour?’ says Joanne. ‘This is supposed to be a fun weekend.’
‘But at the moment you seem to be the only one having fun,’ says Andrea.
‘Don’t be a sourpuss. You’re annoyed because you’re not in charge.’ Joanne turns on her heel and marches off, leaving us to follow.
‘Who fancies a glass of wine?’ asks Joanne, as we gather in the living room, jackets and boots discarded in the hallway.
‘This fire is lovely,’ I say, warming my hands in front of the fireplace. ‘I’ve always fancied an open fire at home.’
‘It’s nice but it is a lot of work,’ says Joanne. ‘I’m assuming that’s yes to the wine for you all?’ We all agree that wine is a good idea and she heads off to the kitchen.
‘Have you seen this?’ says Andrea. She is on the other side of the room looking at the various photographs that are arranged in different frames on an old whatnot in the corner. ‘The owners must be proper royalists, they’ve put a picture of Diana and Charles on their wedding day in a frame and lined it up with their own photographs. How funny.’
My ears prick up at the mention of Diana and I wonder if it’s anything to do with my character card. I casually wander over to the photographs.
‘I didn’t think the Scottish were fond of the royal family,’ says Zoe, from her position on the sofa. ‘And if they are, why wouldn’t they have a picture of Charles and Camilla?’
‘Princess Diana fans?’ I suggest. I pick up the photo frame and make to casually inspect it.
‘Maybe.’ Andrea continues to prowl the room, looking at the books on the shelf along the wall.
‘I’m going to nip upstairs to change my trousers,’ says Zoe, getting up from the sofa. ‘Think I’ll put my tracky-bottoms on. Much more comfortable.’
‘I did suggest that when we came in,’ says Andrea. ‘Where’s Joanne got to with that wine?’
‘I’m doing it now,’ comes Joanne’s voice from the hallway. ‘Just had to nip to the loo.’ She comes back into the room with the wine. ‘Here we go,’ she says, placing the tray she’s carrying on the chest in the middle of the room and opening the bottle.
Zoe comes bounding down the stairs. ‘Hey, guys! Look what I’ve found.’ She opens the palm of her hand and a gold wedding band glistens in the firelight.
‘A wedding ring?’ I move closer to get a better look and pick it up from Zoe’s hand. ‘Where did you find that?’
‘It was on my bedside table,’ says Zoe. ‘Which is weird as I definitely don’t remember seeing it there before. I’m sure I would have noticed when I unpacked earlier.’
‘It must be the people who rented the croft before,’ says Andrea, taking the ring from me. She slides it on to her finger. ‘It looks like a woman’s ring. It’s too small and thin for a man’s wedding ring.’
‘You’d think they would have noticed by now that they had lost it,’ I say. ‘It’s not like a piece of jewellery you would wear only occasionally.’
Automatically I feel the ring finger on my left hand and thumb the bare skin. Joanne is watching me; feeling like a naughty child who has been caught out, I drop my hands from sight of her prying eyes.
‘A wedding ring should never be taken off,’ says Joanne. ‘I wear mine all the time. Don’t you agree, Andrea?’
‘I keep mine on twenty-four-seven,’ she replies.
Joanne looks at me again. ‘It’s not yours is it, Carys? You’re not wearing one?’
‘No, not mine.’
Fortunately, Zoe speaks before Joanne can say any more. ‘And it’s definitely not mine as I wouldn’t dream of wearing it. Not after what that cheating bastard did to me. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to make that mistake for a third time.’
‘A third time?’ says Andrea, raising