BENEATH THE WATERY MOON a psychological thriller with a stunning twist Read online

  As we stepped into the sunshine, he took my hand and led the way. We walked barefoot, our toes sieving through the fine sand. It was still early. Despite the air-conditioning in the cabin, we had woken up with the rising heat. Jude led me along the beach into the town. I had to fight my urge to ask where we were going.

  Eventually, we reached a shack that was surrounded by mopeds for hire. He went in and returned holding a set of keys and two helmets.

  ‘I’m driving. All you have to do is get on the back and hold on,’ he said. Jude threw his leg over a pale blue moped parked on the street.

  ‘That much I think I can manage.’ I clambered on behind him and put on the helmet, feeling claustrophobic before I wrapped my arms around his waist and gripped him firmly. He put the keys into the ignition and the engine grunted loudly before settling into a repetitive chug.

  ‘Right, here we go.’

  I was nervous on the ride. We zipped through the bumpy streets passing a buzz of shops, tourists, locals, and the market. We passed the residential area we hadn’t seen before, and finally got out of town and weaved our way through the dense shrub land. The road wasn’t anything more than a dirt track and we had to manoeuvre around large potholes. The bike grunted with resistance as we climbed a steep hill. Thick trees lined the road and I half expected to see snakes dripping from the branches.

  As we made our ascent, the breeze became more noticeable. We had climbed one of the steepest roads and were able to look down over the town. The sea was a true blue and sparkled as if it had been sprinkled with a million diamonds. We were far above the rocks that burst from the seabed and looked so huge from the shore. We gazed down on our hotel and the people lying on the beach, as small as ants.

  We drove for about fifteen minutes until we reached the top of the highest peak on our part of the island. Jude pulled over onto a flat stretch at the side of the road and we got off. I quickly removed my helmet and it became instantly easier to breathe. A breeze cooled my sweaty brow.

  ‘Look at that.’ Jude pointed down at the view below us.

  ‘I know, incredible.’ I crossed the road and stood next to him at the edge of a sheer drop. We stood in silence for a long while and surveyed what felt like our kingdom. Then, as if from nowhere, a large white cloud appeared and went across the sun. The land was under a giant shadow until the light found a chink to shine through.

  A thick beam of light was projected onto one of the smallest empty bays. It was almost like witnessing a divine intervention. It was stunning.

  ‘Holy shit. Do you see?’ I said.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘That almost convinces me that there is a God.’

  ‘There’s something there, something bigger than us,’ he admitted.

  ‘You’re a big softie under all of that bravado.’

  He smiled and said nothing.

  ‘Let’s go there,’ I suggested, pointing at the bay.

  ‘Good idea. We’ll have a picnic on the beach. Come on then.’ Jude went back over to the bike and put his helmet back on. I climbed onto the back of the bike and adjusted the strap on my helmet and squeezed his ribs as we set off.

  To my relief, there were no more hills to navigate; it was all downhill. We bobbed along the uneven road and soon were lost. Every bay that we came across was the wrong one. It felt like being trapped in the twilight zone. We must have made at least three wrong turns before we finally found the right place. As we had hoped, the bay was unoccupied by anyone else. Jude parked the bike up against the cliff where we could keep a close eye on it. We wandered down onto the sand. It was our own private beach and it felt like being ship-wrecked. Due to the shape of the island, and the position of that cove, we were unable to see the town or any other evidence of human existence there. It was deadly quiet, except for the sound of small waves unfolding onto the shore. I kept rubbing my wrists. They were throbbing and sore. They had been bothering me for days. As I looked down I noticed rings of bruises beginning to form around my wrists like red and purple bracelets and I wondered what was happening to me.

  Jude dragged our bag of things over to a spot near the rocks and spread our towels out next to each other. I took off everything except my bikini bottoms. He sat watching me. I decided to move into the shallow water. He stayed on the beach, his stare fixed on me. I dunked my head under the water and flicked my hair back out of my face, sending a spray of tiny droplets flying. I swam out a little further until the water was up to my waist. I turned and watched him watching me. His back was propped up against the hot rock, his legs folded and stretched out in front of him and his arms were crossed across his ribs. He has a strange smile on his face and his head was slightly tilted.

  ‘Come in! The water’s lovely!’ I called out.

  He nodded, took a long sip of water, and then stripped down to his swimming shorts. He reached into the bag and removed two sets of snorkelling gear and waded into the water. I waited until he was inches away from me before launching myself at him and wrapping my legs around his torso. He let go of the snorkels and they floated down to the seabed. He picked me up and threw me into the water. I sunk like a stone and had to fight panic. When I came back up we both laughed. Then he dived under the water to retrieve our snorkels. We swam further out until there was about twelve feet of water below us. He passed me one of the sets of goggles and a snorkel. We linked hands and gently dunked our heads under the water.

  We saw a radiant underwater world. We passed shoals of rainbow-coloured fish of all shapes and sizes, which swam about us aimlessly, unaffected by our alien presence in their domain. The seabed was littered with various rocks from which bizarre creatures would appear and potter about. Suddenly, Jude let go of my hand and dived down to the bottom. The fish made a hasty dash out of his way as he glided through the turquoise water. I saw his hand reach out a retrieve a large, uninhabited shell from the sand. He sprang back up through the water like a rocket. We met again on the surface and both removed our blowholes so we could speak.

  ‘Look at this!’ he exclaimed, holding the clean pink shell out for me to examine.

  ‘It’s amazing.’ I stroked the smooth surface with my hands.

  ‘For you,’ he said with pride, like a caveman returning from a successful hunt.

  ‘Thank you.’ I hugged the shell to my chest. ‘I shall treasure it.’

  We had been in the water for a long time. I followed as Jude powered his way through the water back towards the beach. It was a struggle to keep up and my shark phobia was starting to take hold. Ten minutes later we trudged out of the water, limbs tingling and aching.

  Jude walked over to the towel and lay down, wiping his wet ginger curls back off his face. He looked so different like that. Beads of salt water rested on his chest and his shorts clung to his groin and thighs. I stretched out beside him and put the shell down. I could feel the sun evaporating the water on my skin leaving a fine layer of dry salt. Jude suggested we had our picnic.

  Once our bellies were filled, we spread ourselves out on the sand to sunbathe. We remained securely planted on our island of towels. I sat with my legs tucked up to my chest and looked out. The bay couldn’t have been more than forty feet across and on the opposite side a large piece of driftwood sat on the sand. It looked like a small bench, ideal for two.

  The sun shone down on us for only an hour before disappearing behind the vast rock face that we had settled near. As the day wore on we gradually watched as the tide went out, dragged further and further away with each small wave. The sky became a beautiful shade of peach that faded to blue. Our figures eventually becoming silhouettes against the backdrop of the sunset.

  The journey back into town was effortless, and we drove along a road that followed the coastline until we found a landmark we recognized. The road gleamed like a mirror with the low light. I sat on the back, holding onto him and watching the sunset develop. A mild breeze came in with the evening air.

  We returned the bike to the rental shack, settled the b
ill and headed back to our cabin. The last crescent of sun sunk below the watery horizon as we walked along the beach. The ghost moon was already in the sky and close to being full. It was huge and the craters were visible. Seeing both the sun and moon at the same time wasn’t that unusual, but the sheer size of them both made me feel insignificant. It was the perfect end to a lovely day.

  As we went back into our room I threw the keys down on the bed and Jude went into the bathroom to run the bath. I presumed we would spend a quiet night in. He called out that he had booked a table for us at one of the restaurants overlooking the bay. I would have happily settled for room service and a pay-per-view film, but I gave in to his enthusiasm, fighting my inexplicable exhaustion. I hopped into the bath with him.

  He spent an unusually long time getting ready to go out, running wax through his hair and making it crunchy. Since he was making a special effort, I slipped into a pair of high heels and an emerald green strapless dress. As I pinned my hair up and applied some make-up, I noticed that the bruises around my wrists were bluer than ever. I wondered why Jude hadn’t noticed them. They throbbed with a numb ache and I felt strange all over.

  He spent ages perfecting his hair and trimming his short beard. When he had finished he smelled fantastic and looked wonderful. He wore a pale blue and white, stripped shirt with jeans and a belt.

  By the time we left our cabin it was nearly nine o’clock. A perfect night’s sky greeted us. Stars littered the rich blue backdrop like diamonds, and the moon sat looking down on us from her cosmic throne.

  ‘It’s almost Christmas day,’ I said as we walked on the path through the complex, under the cover of dark tree silhouettes. Every now and then we would catch a glimpse of the jealous moon watching us through the thicket.

  Jude had arranged for a taxi, and despite a bumpy journey, every moment in the car was worth it when we pulled up outside the restaurant. The building was elaborately built from wood exquisitely painted in red and gold. The establishment was large and looked old and I wondered if it was a former monastery.

  A woman in traditional Thai dress greeted us. She bowed her head and we followed her indoors. She appeared to float along the floor. Jude offered me his arm as we entered. The hostess led us through a long, wide corridor towards a large room that was lit entirely with candles. An ornamental fountain sat in the middle of the vast room and finely detailed bamboo had been painted onto cream silk hangings on the walls. There were only twelve tables in the entire restaurant, which were all evenly spaced around the fountain. Five of them were occupied.

  The room had a subtle smell of incense, and gentle music floated out of speakers on the walls. We were shown to a table on the far side of the fountain. A waitress came and placed a champagne bucket on the table, bowed, and backed away from us. Jude poured us both a glass and made a toast to Christmas and to us. I raised my glass and smiled in appreciation, before surveying the view from the vast glass window. We were high up on the edge of a cliff edge. Below us the bay curled round and the lights looked like flickering lighters at a concert. The sea was calm and as black as the night.

  Soon the waitress returned and explained that there was no menu, customers were served the speciality of the day. I was eager to discover what culinary delights lay ahead.

  Jude and I sipped the champagne and chatted while we waited for our undisclosed starter to arrive. I was starving, as if I hadn’t eaten for days. It wasn’t a hunger born of greed, it felt more like a basic animal need. My stomach was rumbling and I felt suddenly very thin.

  Very soon, a large platter laden with various items, arrived on the table. Small pieces of tempura, skewers of chicken satay, sizzling king prawns in spices, and a variety of sauces in tiny, ceramic bowls were spread out over our table. We started to pop the mouth-watering morsels into our mouths. I binged on the food like a creature possessed.

  The next course was two small bowls of mildly spiced crab soup. It was fresh and tasted of the sea. Only seconds after the soup bowls had been cleared away, two new plates were brought to the table. They contained pieces of tenderly cooked pork in a mild sauce with crispy, spiced vegetables. It was heaven. Every ingredient tasted and looked beautiful. Dessert was fruit served with sticky coconut rice. The more I ate, the hungrier I felt. I couldn’t explain my bizarre appetite. My desire to eat was matched only by my unquenchable thirst. I put it down to having spent too long in the sun.

  We spent at least two hours enjoying our dinner. In that time we unwittingly put away a bottle of champagne and a bottle of red wine. Jude paid the bill and we got into a taxi feeling light headed as it took us back to the hotel.

  We heard a band playing indoors and were drawn towards the cocktail lounge of the hotel. The room was brimming with other tourists, all drinking and celebrating the imminent arrival of the festive hour. We joined them and found a vacant table near the token plastic Christmas tree to accommodate the western travellers. Large purple and pink baubles hung from its branches in among a mass of bright, flashing fairy lights. It was wonderfully tacky.

  It had been a long day, and we slowly rocked in silence on the dance floor. Wrapped around each other, we swayed to the familiar tune of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.’ Then Jude took his cheek away from mine and looked me in the eye. He looked as if he was searching for a possession he had lost.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Good. Same here.’

  The song continued, the disco lights fell down over us in snowflake patterns. We rocked for a minute longer before he said, ‘Marry me.’

  My immediate reaction was shock, and then I decided I must have misheard him. I looked up with uncertainty.

  ‘I mean it,’ he half laughed, ‘Will you marry me?’

  A blur of thoughts shot through my mind as I searched his face. He let go of me and got down on one knee.

  ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘We are meant for each other. Marry me.’ He held my hand. The stupid lights danced around him on the floor.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ I pulled him up, off his knees. I sniffed back the happy tears. ‘I can’t believe this!’ The enormity of the moment began to sink in as we walked back to our cabin.

  ‘I feel like I should wake up now to find this has been a dream,’ I said as he placed the key in the lock to our room.

  ‘You are completely nuts, you know,’ he said, laughing with the afterthought.

  ‘It’s the effect you have on me,’ I continued. ‘I can’t help it. It’s your fault.’ Jude slipped his hands around my face. They felt strangely rough and abrasive. I could smell a faint waft of fruity alcohol on his lips. He let go of me and disappeared into the bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the bed, slightly shaking and still in shock. I felt like the luckiest woman on the planet.

  He reappeared from the bathroom and dimmed the lights over our bed, before sinking into the sheets next to me. Then he pulled a small, faded velvet box from his pocket. He stared at it with fixed concentration.

  ‘This belonged to my grandmother. It’s a family heirloom, a tradition. Now it will belong to you,’ he said.

  I stayed quiet as he opened the box and removed an antique diamond ring. In silence, he took my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger. It was the perfect fit, but I was reminded of cold metal shackles. I pushed the feeling away as we held hands and both looked down at it. There it was: tangible confirmation of the evening’s events. Something solid which meant that what we felt and said was real. Outside a meteor shower lit up the black night.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said.

  ‘Just like you.’

  We lay back on the bed and slowly undressed each other. He kissed my neck and I grasped his hair. We made love, savouring every movement, every sensation, taste, smell, and touch. It played out in slow motion. Afterwards, we shared a cigarette and held onto each other in the darkness. We stayed like that for some time before falling asleep as the dawn crept up.
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br />   PART III

  The reflection of the sunlight in the mirror blinded me. I winced and tried to turn away, but it was hopeless. I was still trapped there. Once my eyes adjusted I looked around the room. This wasn’t where I was meant to be. I squinted again, trying hard to replace the image I saw with a happier one. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. But when I opened them I was still in that place. I was in the cellar. I looked at my hand, searching for the ring, his grandmother’s ring. It wasn’t there. Oh my god, he’s stolen it.

  ‘Give it back!’ I screamed out. ‘Give it back to me!’

  I pulled on the chains so hard that I thought I might snap my wrists. Suddenly, I found some strength. Sweat trickled down my face, and the stale smell of fear flooded my nostrils. I stopped tensing and lay back on the bed. I knew I needed to calm down, get a grip of myself, and try to think rationally. I took some long deep breaths and exhaled slowly. I repeated the process until my heart rate returned to a steady pace.

  I scanned the room once I opened my eyes. Every shadow had a familiar feel, each brick, each cobweb now looked more real than before. This dream was becoming more terrifying by the minute. The muted feeling in my head had subsided, but the hunger in my belly, and my unquenchable thirst was getting more unbearable by the second. I looked into the mirror for a very long time. I inspected every wrinkle, each little graze and bruise. I looked strangely real. My hair was so dirty it would have been impossible for anyone to tell I was a blonde. My eye make-up had formed dark muddy rivers down my face. The reflection staring back at me looked confused and lost.

  ‘I am not meant to be here’, the image said. ‘Get me back to Jude. Wake up, please, just wake up.’ But nothing happened. I tried so hard to get back to that place. ‘I will wake up when it is time,’ I told myself, ‘Just ride it out until then, like you have been. You’ll see, it will all be fine.’

  But this time everything was different. I scrunched my eyes shut and tried hard to picture the beach and our hut. The harder I tried, the further away I felt it slipping away. All my recurring dreams before this had felt like scenes from films. But this felt real, too real. I shuddered at the vivid memory of being raped. Thank goodness that wasn’t real, I thought to myself, as I lay there in the cold light of day, trapped in the cellar: his victim.