Disclaimer: I don't own Harper's Island. I also don't own Abby Mills, Jimmy Mance, Madison Allen or Shea Allen.
Rating: T for death and language.
HARPERSDALE
Episode One: Thud
"Hello, this is Harpersdale Holiday Resort. How may I help you?" Jemima Clarke, the bubbly middle-aged receptionist, asked into the phone. Her voice was pleasantly cheerful as she cradled the phone between her head and shoulder, continuing to apply garish pink nail polish to her fingernails. She listened for a few moments. "No, I'm afraid we don't have any vacancies. We had a rush of bookings straight after the concert was announced. I'm very sorry..." she trailed off as the would-be guest swore at her, and then apparently slammed their phone down.
"Humph. Jerk," she said sourly.
"I hope you weren't talking to me just then," said an amused voice, causing her to look up. A handsome man slightly younger than Jemima stood in front of the reception desk, a broad smile crossing his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Spark, I didn't know you were there," Jemima said. "That was just some joker who has anger management issues..."
"Oh, that's okay. No need to explain," he said charmingly. "And please, call me Ricky."
"O-okay... Ricky," she said nervously. She wasn't used to talking to famous singers, especially ones that she had crushes on, so she wasn't sure if he was just being polite or whether he was genuinely charming. "Was there something you wanted...?"
He said something under his breath, and Jemima could have sworn that she heard him say, "You." She then figured that it was probably wishful thinking.
"No, I'm just waiting for Vicky and Ryan to get here. They should have gotten back from town half an hour ago... I hope nothing happened to them..." Ricky said worriedly.
"I'm sure they're fine," said Jemima. "They might just be running a bit late."
"I hope you're right," said Ricky. "You'll be at the concert tomorrow, right?" he inquired.
"I would be, but I couldn't afford to buy a ticket," Jemima said disappointedly.
Ricky looked around furtively, and then slipped something across the table to her. "Don't tell Vicky I gave you a free ticket. She'll have my head on a platter," he said half-jokingly.
"Oh my God... my lips are sealed," she breathed. A grin broke across her face. "Thank you so much!" Ricky tapped the side of his nose, and then walked away from the desk.
Aghhh! He drives me insane sometimes, she thought. I knew him when he lived in Kelsington, before he became famous... but he never seemed to notice me...
"We've got guests arriving tonight, Caitlyn," Agnes Harper, owner of Harpersdale, snapped. Caitlyn continued to read her celebrity gossip magazine. Ricky Spark had autographed the pull-out poster of himself, and she admired his good looks as she ignored Agnes. "Are you listening?" She tore the magazine from Caitlyn's hands. "Go and clean Villa 3! Now! Or do you want me to tell everyone..."
"Oh, alright, I'm going, I'm going," Caitlyn grumbled. "Bitch," she added under her breath. Fortunately for her, Agnes did not hear, or if she did she made no indication.
Agnes watched as Caitlyn headed out of the servant's quarters and towards the villa area. She shook her head, upset. If only good help wasn't so hard to find these days. When she had started working at Harpersdale as a maid all those years ago, she would never have dreamed of acting like that. And, as a result of her well-mannered and faithful servitude, she had inherited the place when the owner died. It had also helped that the owner had been her father, but still...
She then made her way over to Ben Barnard, the general handyman. He did whatever needed doing... when he felt like it, that is. Or whenever Agnes threatened to fire him, like she was about to do.
"Ben! Someone put a deckchair in the pool! Go and get it out!' she shouted, trying to make herself heard over the music he was listening to. She yanked the headphone ear buds from his ears. "As I was saying, go and get the deckchair out of the pool. Please. I don't want to have to fire you, but..."
Oh shit, please don't fire me, Ben thought, alarmed. He raced to the pool building in record time.
Ha, works every time, Agnes thought to herself. That boy is so gullible. She smiled victoriously, and moved onto her next task. Pierre Martin, the new chef, was supposed to be making lunch for the guests, but he had not been in the kitchen. She honestly would not be surprised if he was wandering around the resort drunk. Again.
Matthew Barker, the porter at Harpersdale, waited in the main building of the resort. He wanted to make a good impression on the guests that were arriving later that day, naïvely hoping that Agnes might give him a raise. He also hoped that he would make a good impression on Alicia Cartwright, the travel reviewer who worked for Getaway, the exclusive travel magazine. She was currently typing on her laptop in an armchair in front of the blazing fire, presumably working on her review now.
He had another motive for waiting, too. He had heard that Agnes' granddaughter was arriving, and he had also seen pictures of her. She was smoking hot. If he made a good impression on her... who knew what could happen...
Princess Louise and Prince David sat on the sofa, which was directly in front of the fireplace. They were engaged in conversation, arms wrapped around each other. A tornado could rip through the building and they wouldn't notice.
"So this is where you worked before you moved to Sweden," Louise said. She spoke in English, since David had only recently begun to learn Swedish after moving there a few months ago and Louise had learnt English since she was a child.
"Yes," David agreed. "But I hated it here," he finished.
"Why? It's lovely," Louise inquired.
"Agnes – she's the owner of the resort – was... beyond the pale, really," he said. "She paid us minimum wage, claiming that she couldn't afford to pay us any more than that. She made us do far too much work as well. We were practically slaves."
"So you decided to travel to Sweden," Louise guessed.
"It was the furthest away I could get, with the money that I had," David explained. "I finally got sick of being treated like a slave, so I just up and left."
"And aren't you glad you did," Louise teased. "You never would have met me otherwise."
"Yes... although I had to cut the rest of my trip around Scandinavia short," David acted disappointed. "Just joking, I'm not really upset."
Louise's hand covered her mouth, and her eyes widened. "You never told me that you were planning to travel further afield," she said. "When we go back, we'll travel through Scandinavia, okay?"
David smiled. "I would love to," he said, and his lips met Louise's as they began to kiss.
Kristian Andersson frowned as he watched the couple. Though he was Louise's bodyguard, he also had another mission to complete during their stay at the resort. King Carl XVII of Sweden had not approved of David, but no one else seemed to mind their marriage. As a result, he had been forced to hire Kristian to kill David. Unfortunately, since Louise and David were always together, Kristian had not had an opportunity to kill him yet.
Charles West also sat in an armchair near the fireplace, reading the Kelsington Gazette. He aimlessly flipped through the newspaper, unable to keep himself focused. He felt like everyone knew his secret, and by keeping quiet they were all mocking him. Finally the pressure got to be too much for him, and he stalked out of the main building and towards his villa, deciding to mark some of the end-of-year science assignments that he had brought with him.
Wilfred Harper sat in a corner of the lounge area, trapped in his wheelchair. He was asleep, probably dreaming of his glory days as an Olympic athlete. Though at first glance he seemed to be a pathetic old man, once people discovered that he had won gold medals they treated him completely differently. He had been a keen runner up until the day the arthritis had set in, and had quickly been relegated to a wheelchair.
Will Taylor, the doorman of the resort, was jolted from his sleep by someone tapping him on the shoulder. "Would you mind moving out of the way?" Theresa Wilson asked obnoxiously. Will opened the door, granting access to Theresa, the television host who worked for some music channel, and Michael Young, the cameraman who worked alongside her.
"Has the rest of the crew come back from town yet?" Theresa complained. "They left this morning, and they should be back by now!" Michael rolled his eyes at Will. Theresa stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance and forcing Michael to stand outside in the cold.
"Hey everyone, we were getting some scenic shots for the beginning of the program. You know, to show where the return to the stage for the Bright Sparks will be, that sort of thing," Michael explained, peering over Theresa's shoulder. Theresa got the message, moved aside, snobbishly ignored everyone and demanded a mug of hot chocolate. Matthew decided to go to the kitchen to prepare the drink, if only to get away from Theresa; her ego smothered him whenever they were in the same room. It was a pity, really, that Michael had to work with her; he seemed a decent sort of person.
"Hey, where's Vicky? I thought she'd be here by now. We wanted to interview her before the concert," Michael said to Ricky, who had just entered the room.
"She's not here yet. I hope she's alright..." Ricky said worriedly. His phone began to play the chorus of One Hit Wonder, ironically the only Bright Sparks song to ever top the charts. "That's probably her now." He took the phone out of his pocket and said, "Hey Vicky, where are you? We really need to finish setting up the ballroom for the concert."
"That's what I called to tell you. Ryan and I are about halfway to Harpersdale, but a bus has broken down right in front of us. It's obstructing both lanes, so we can't pass. We could probably walk past, but it's far too cold outside," Vicky said, the heating in her car going full blast. "Yes," she laughed. "You know me far too well," she continued.
Meanwhile, Robert Barnard, the bus driver, attempted to repair the bus. Everyone else sat on board, hoping that it would be fixed soon. A traffic jam had formed behind the bus, and several horns honked angrily with alarming regularity.
"I still don't know why you invited Shea and Madison," Jimmy Mance whispered to Abby Mills. "Madison's creepy, and Shea's unbearable."
"I told you, I was just being polite," Abby replied. "At least they paid for the plane tickets to England."
"I suppose so," Jimmy haltingly agreed.
Further back on the bus, Shea Allen sat reading a romance novel. Madison Allen talked to a girl around her own age, whose name was Catherine Steele. Catherine's parents had recently been killed in their Los Angeles home and she had been sent to England to live with her grandparents, Agnes and Wilfred.
Just behind them, a group of four women talked among themselves.
"Congratulations on, like, winning the tickets, Beatrice!" one of them said.
"Thanks, Van," Beatrice Sheppard replied quietly.
"Seriously, out of everyone who entered... you were, like, the one to win! Like, congratulations!" Vanessa Donovan continued enthusiastically. She had more or less been congratulating Beatrice ever since she had won.
"We get the point already," another girl said.
"Shut it, Sam! You're just jealous that you didn't win," Kendra Cooper said.
"Whatever," Samantha Guy replied. A loud rumbling noise interrupted her.
"What was that?" Catherine asked nervously.
"Maybe the bus driver, like, fixed the bus!" Vanessa said.
"No... that didn't sound like a bus..." Kendra said.
Meanwhile, inside Vicky's car, she was finishing up her conversation with Ricky. "I love you too. See you soon," she said. She was about to cut the call when she also heard the rumbling noise. "What was that?" she asked, talking to Ryan, her husband.
"I don't know... I'll have a look," he replied. "Stay here." He exited the car, and looked around. Finally, he looked up. And saw a large boulder heading straight towards him.
He hardly had time to react before the boulder thudded onto him, killing him instantly and sending shock waves through the ground. Vicky screamed, dropping her phone. Like a chain reaction, other rocks began to fall, quickly filling the gap between the two cliffs on either side of the car. A boulder fell on the broken-down bus. Other than that, the bus and Vicky's car thankfully remained mostly unscathed... for now. Unbeknownst to Vicky, one final boulder was about to impact her car...
Ricky stared at his phone, alarmed, as the connection was cut. After hearing the loud thudding noises and Vicky's shrill scream, he feared the worst. He quickly raced to his car, jumped in and began to speed towards the mountain pass.
Robert surveyed the damage to his bus. A boulder had completely obliterated one segment of the bus, including a wheel, and there was no possible way that the bus could move. The boulder had also killed one of the passengers, whose name was Kendra if he recalled correctly. That poor girl, he thought. Although all the other passengers were visibly upset, one seemed inconsolable. He recalled that her name was Beatrice, the same as his late wife's name had been.
"Oh God... Kendra... Why?!" she sobbed, a fresh set of tears erupting from her eyes. "She was my best friend... I wish I had never won those damn tickets! It's my fault she died!"
Vanessa frowned, unsure of what to do. She and Beatrice had little in common, and she realised that she had no idea of how to comfort Beatrice. In fact, all they had in common was a friendship with Kendra. Still, she could try at least. "Don't say that," she said in a comforting tone. Beatrice sniffled a little, and the tears continued to flow.
Ricky arrived at the bus, anxiously searching for his sister's car. He stopped, leapt out of his car and rushed towards Robert. "Where's my sister?! She said she was behind a broken-down bus..." he began.
"Look, I'm sorry, but if she was in the car right behind us..." he stepped forward. "I'm so sorry..."
"No... no! She can't be gone!" Ricky became limp, falling backwards suddenly. He stumbled, and Robert hurried to steady him.
"He's fainted," he stated to the other passengers, who had gathered in a group behind him. "I suggest that..."
He was interrupted by Jimmy. "I'll drive some of us to Harpersdale. The rest can begin walking down."
"...As I was about to suggest, we should also put the salvageable luggage into the boot," Robert said. He saw confusion on the Americans' faces. "That would be the trunk, to the Yanks among us." They followed his suggestion, although ironically Kendra's luggage had also been destroyed by the boulder. A reflective glint caught Beatrice's eye, and she stooped to retrieve the object. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realised what it was.
"This was Kendra's. She carried it with her everywhere. It was her good luck charm," she said quietly to Vanessa, noting the dreadful irony to her words. It hadn't brought Kendra luck at all. She displayed the object, revealing a brass bottle opener. It depicted the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe and the Notre Dame, and the words 'Souvenir de Paris' on the reverse side. "Her grandmother gave it to her... she always wanted to go to Paris, but now she never will..." the tears began to flow rapidly again.
"Hey, Beatrice, the car's about to leave. You ready to go?" Jimmy said. He motioned to Ricky's car, where Abby sat in the front passenger seat, Ricky lay in a torpid state against the rear left side door, and Catherine squeezed into the middle seat. Beatrice walked towards the car, and slid into the rear right side. Jimmy discovered that the keys were still in the car, and he turned on the engine.
"Remember that you're in England now. Other side of the road," he murmured to himself, as he began to drive towards the resort.
The remaining survivors began the slow trek towards the resort, shivering as a cold wind surrounded them. Shea held her daughter close, wishing that she had thought to get a coat out of Madison's luggage.
Madison shivered, but it wasn't because of the cold. She wished desperately that the deaths had not happened...
...and she knew that they would not be the last deaths at Harpersdale.
The Main Twenty-Five
Abby ~ Agnes ~ Alicia ~ Beatrice ~ Ben ~ Caitlyn ~ Catherine ~ Charles
David ~ Jemima ~ Jimmy ~ Kristian ~ Louise ~ Madison ~ Matthew ~ Michael ~ Pierre
Richard ~ Robert ~ Samantha ~ Shea ~ Theresa ~ Vanessa ~ Wilfred ~ Will
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think and where I could improve, but no flames please.