You, Being One of the Beautiful People, are Cordially Invited to Hayley Smith's Strictly No Dags, Dropkicks or Uglies
***Party of the Year***
This story is based on an original idea by Skykat
No noise other than Gypsy's sobs and the raging storm pervaded the quiet of the common room, its wall adorned with a blown-up photograph of Gypsy naked and scrawled above in large bold letters the single word SLUT. (Chapter 24: Night Talk)
Chapter 52
VENGEANCE
Centuries passed and nothing but tears to mark their passing.
But at last all time was done. The storm abated. Shadows stilled. A gentle sunlight stole through the curtain of softly falling rain to lend golden hues to the quiet day. Through the silvery raindrops rippling on the sunlit stream, Eleanor spoke with Megan again, her voice devoid of all emotion, all that happened so long ago now.
Harry never truly loved me, just as my friends had warned. Arnold claimed I had gone with him willingly and given my consent and my fiancé accepted his brother's story above my own. He said I was soiled and he could not marry me now. That no man would or should. My godmother, artless and unworldly, was easy prey for Harry's charm and sadly believed the lies. A woman then had no rights and as my betrothed even though he'd rejected me Harry's word was law. He persuaded Aunt Beatrice my mind must be weak to do what I had done and, on his suggestion, I was to be sent away to a convent for a year. I saw at once his intentions were to have me declared insane and thus seize the fortune for himself, but my godmother refused to listen, thinking me delusional. I had alienated all my friends and had no one to turn to. I couldn't bear the thought of being locked away forever…
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It was only when Gypsy and Kit reached the annex that they realised how deceptive the thick black smoke had been. The flames were contained to a small area at the front of Hartwell Mansion and to judge by the shouts, cheers and gushing water things were fast getting under control. Gypsy laughed in relief, about to say something to Kit - Megan had been striding too far ahead of them - when a blinding flash of light momentarily dazzled her vision and for a crazy second she thought she saw…
But it had to be her imagination, right? That weird experience in the abandoned River Restaurant, when she and Megan had heard the low whistling and watched the eerie, green-tinged light streak through the sky, well, that had to be some freak weather condition and she'd just been swept up in Megan's talk of omens. She didn't truly believe in ghosts. She'd imagined White Lady standing in an upper window of Hartwell Mansion in bridal gown and veil as though in mocking parody of herself…hadn't she…?
She conveniently swept aside the niggling little doubt that maybe it hadn't been Megan they followed. Anyway, the image was gone now, quickly as it came. It had probably been no more than a fleeting glimpse of her own reflection shimmering through the orange glow of firelight. Gypsy glanced briefly down at the costume she'd taken from the Summer Bay High props department, the wedding dress torn, grey and mud-splattered now although it had been pristine white and perfect when she'd taken it out of the trunk. She bit her lip.
Given her history, maybe the soiled look suited her.
She'd even scored with a boy, whose name she couldn't even remember now, right here on the Love Seat last summer. Just some random holidaymaker she'd been chatting to on the beach when it began to pelt with rain and they'd needed to find shelter fast. Hartwell Mansion was the nearest place and she knew for a fact Hayley had invited a crowd of friends over that day so she'd pass unnoticed as she had before. Their kisses led to more, their desire for each other surpassing all else, the thrill heightened by the chance of getting caught and the gymnastics they had to perform in the limited narrow space. He told her, as he pulled on his pants, the last of the dying raindrops running down his bare chest, that she could make her fortune in the city and, busy trying to untwist the strap of her bikini top as she sat, she asked him what he meant.
"Selling it. I don't mean just as any pro though. I could see you as a high class call girl. Can't believe I got it for free!" He smiled as he retrieved his shirt and was baffled and angry when she flew at him, digging long fingernails into his face, drawing blood.
She didn't remember his name, but she remembered all the names he'd called her. She didn't remember his name, but she remembered afterwards sitting all alone on the beach and crying till her eyes stung and her throat was like sandpaper. And even then crying some more.
What Hayley had done, pinning up a poster-sized photo of Gypsy naked, with the lipstick-painted word "slut" scrawled in giant letters above, in Summer Bay High's common room for the whole school to gawk at had been cruel beyond belief. Everybody knew Gypsy's background. Everybody knew that as a tiny baby she'd been bound hand and foot and left to die in the searing heat at the top of jagged cliffs. It was only by pure fluke that three small boys wagging school had found her there dumped like a piece of trash.**
And a small voice inside her told her trash was all she was and all she would ever be.
"Gyps, we gonna stand here admiring the view forever? Maybe we should go round the front, see how the guys are doing. I swear I heard Noah shouting orders out there!"
Kit's question, the joy in her voice that her fiance was okay evident, cut into her thoughts.
"Wait. You wanna know where that photo of me naked came from?" There was a feigned gaiety in Gypsy's voice though, given the way Kit swung round so quickly at the light touch on her arm, she wondered if her friend could see right through her and know how broken she was inside. "That sleazeball Adam Kerr whipped the sheet off me and snapped it on his mobile after we made out."
"You made out with Hayley's lackey Adam Kerr?" Kit could barely conceal her astonishment.
"Uh-huh. Two days ago. In one of the little guest rooms up there." Gypsy indicated, grinning. "Just to get up Miss Piranha's nose. And I figured if he ever showed that pic to Hayley it'd get up her prissy nose even more so he got to keep the pic."
Kit stared at her, still stunned. "I never even knew there were any guest rooms. How the hell did you get in? Somehow I can't see Hayley opening the door and welcoming you with open arms. Didn't the staff try and stop you? Didn't you set off alarms or appear on security cameras?"
Gypsy laughed. "Why, you have such a suspicious mind, Kittykins!" She patted her hair and spoke affectedly, mocking Hayley. Her eyes danced as she looked back at Kit.
"You know Miss Piranha is always bringing her hangers-on back, hoping they'll swoon over her latest designer dress or diamond studded necklace or whatever? The staff assumed I was one of her friends from school when they saw me so why would they bother with cameras and alarms? As for getting in, simples. Kane Phillips showed me how. He told me he did the place over way back before the Smiths moved in. The little window never closes to properly because the lock is fake and there's a secret staircase hidden in the wall for lovers' trysts, see? They must have been a frisky lot back when Hartwell Mansion was first built! And I think we both know how Hayley got the keys to Summer Bay High to pull her dirty trick."
"Kim Hyde?" Kit suggested.
Gypsy nodded agreement. "Kim Hyde. Nice enough guy, but when it comes to Hayley…"
"Brains in Pants!" Kit supplied.
"And a bit too dim to ask why she wanted them in the first place," Gypsy added. "The perfect Patsy."
Kim Hyde had been trying to impress Hayley ever since he started Summer Bay High and Kim's Dad just happened to be Principal Barry Hyde. Hayley would easily have sweet-talked him into stealing the keys from his father's briefcase. No doubt that jerk Adam had showed Miss Piranha the photo and then, hoping to get inside the ice queen's knickers, had happily gone along with her idea to have it printed and enlarged for public display.
An aching loneliness overwhelmed her as she recollected stumbling across the poster-sized picture of her naked self when she, Jack, Noah and Kit, using the spare keys Noah was entrusted with as school counsellor, had taken shelter from the Baystormer.
It was only when Kit stroked her back that she realised she was crying. "I'm sorry, Gyps," Kit said gently. "Sorry too I can't be Will or Jack…"
"You're a friend, Kit," Gypsy said in a quiet, subdued voice. She smiled sadly. "The only one I have even if we did only bond through our mutual hatred of Miss Piranha. And sometimes you don't need sex. Sometimes you just need a hug from a girlfriend."
Kit immediately embraced her warmly. "You got it, girlfriend! And any time you want payback on our mutual enemy you got that too."
"Thanks. It might be a bit sooner than you think." Gypsy pulled herself together and impatiently brushed away her tears, angry with herself for letting Hayley get to her so much. "Kane Phillips took me on a short tour. Guess whose bedroom is just down the corridor from the guest rooms? While everybody's busy putting out the fire, guess whose bedroom we could trash?"
Kit returned her broad grin. Hayley had made her life hell when she found out she'd had an alcohol problem. And she was furious with Miss Piranha for destroying what little self-esteem Gypsy had managed to build up behind that tough, confident façade. Revenge was going to be sweet.
"Deal!" she said emphatically.
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On the day she died, Lady Eleanor Hartwell smoothed down the satin wedding dress and placed her wedding veil carefully over her head. A glorious bridal bouquet of red and white roses had arrived, delivered in error by an over-zealous florist, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the wedding had been cancelled. She picked up the flowers and sniffed their beautiful scents, and as she did so caught sight of her reflection in the three-winged mirror of the mahogany dressing table. Years ago when she'd been but a small child, she and her great friend Arabella would often amuse themselves with infant games, pretending that the dresser's intricate carvings of plants and fruit were real or that they could appear and disappear at will by hiding from the mirror. The room had rung with laughter and friendship then. There was no laughter, no friends, now. Today, on the day that should have been the happiest of her life, there was nothing but emptiness.
She lifted the train of her wedding dress and walked slowly, quietly down the hidden staircase of Hartwell Mansion, making her way to Hartwell Woods, to where the river waited patiently, sparkling and chattering in the sunlight. She lifted back the bridal veil and gazed deep into the water that would soon be her grave.
The golden rays of the sun, the pure whiteness of the clouds, the glittering blue of the river, that day all screamed at her eyes, the river's hushed lapping seemed to crash like the thunder of her heartbeat, the wind, no more than a zephyr, whooshed in her ears. A few curled, dead leaves, fallen like tears down from the Weeping Willow across the bank, floated haphazardly downstream towards their sad destiny, and she threw the bouquet in after them, watching as though in a dream while the roses, quickly separated and destroyed, joined the melancholy journey. A movement close by, almost imperceptible, caught her attention. A large grey spider hurried by, busy with its life and living, busy with a world no longer hers. And then she jumped, shocked by the river's iciness as it took her in its arms. The water began to fill her lungs, and she surrendered to her fate, closing her eyes forever, as blackness enfolded…
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She found herself in Hartwell Woods. How long had passed since she stood by the river, she could not tell. Her body was weightless, her footfall noiseless, her every breath out of step with time. Grey half-light streamed down through the hushed treetops and silver clouds sailed in a dark pool of sky. A sudden rush of air disturbed the night. A flock of bats darkened the moon briefly and then were gone. Silence fell once more. Eerie, heavy, empty silence. Lost, forsaken, alone in death. Waiting.
But no peace came. No quietude, no perfect sleep. Only an aching loneliness, a yearning for the love of another human being, consumed her.
She walked the places she had walked in life. In Hartwell Mansion some of the old furniture remained: the mahogany grandfather clock in the hall; the specially commissioned painting of Hartwell Woods; the triple-mirrored dresser at which she had once sat. Sometimes she thought the girl who looked in the mirror saw her and she would try to speak with her but the girl was too afraid and, though perhaps the same age as Eleanor had been, would snatch up the toy bear that rested on her bed, clinging to it like a terrified child while her eyes scanned the room in terror.
Yet somehow Eleanor knew she would find her freedom in the very room that many, many years ago had been her own. And never had she been more sure than she had been tonight, drawn as she was like a magnet to another so wronged, so friendless, so broken-hearted, drawn more and more to the one who could finally set her free.
In the vast grounds where the Summer House had once stood, she had at last been able to tell her story.
"Harry, as my intended, took my wealth, my home, everything I owned. My godmother was cast out like a pauper and had no choice but to throw herself on the mercy of relatives. And I…I roam for eternity..."
The voice faded away. Memories were all that was left, all that had always been, in every blade of grass, every ripple of the river, every whisper of the breeze, triggering Megan's psychic powers to see and hear all that had gone before.
And, exhausted by the burden, she began to weaken now.
Images flooded her mind: Noah and Jack racing to put out the fire; Irene, helpless, trapped by the fallen beam of a collapsed roof; Barry, near death, his son Kim, his face tear-streaked, kneeling nearby pumping water from his father's chest and desperately begging him to live; Will, gritting his teeth in pain, injured, alone, on a narrow, stony ledge down one of the old pits that dotted the Ancient Path of Whitelady Woods; Kane and Martha, isolated on an island in the ocean and both badly hurt; Cassie, unconscious, rich, red blood pouring from her temple; Gypsy and Kit laughing as they ran up the secret staircase; Hayley…oh, God, Hayley!
Megan saw the White Lady enter the room and then, like the last flame of a dying candle, her power flared, illuminating the scene with a brief, dazzling brightness, and then died.
And all she knew was that Lady Eleanor had lured Gypsy and Kit to Hartwell Mansion…to where Hayley's only chance of being saved lay in the hands of the two people who detested her most…
**See Chapter 26: Tramps and Thieves
