They went sky-clad that afternoon as the light faded. Viola couldn’t remember who suggested it. Perhaps it was a collective, organic impulse, that sloughing off of their clothing, bringing themselves forward naked, ready for the next phase. No longer were they children flirting with symbols and chants; they were women with a power that no longer frightened them.

Viola had always shielded her body in the school changing rooms but this situation did not compare. She felt free, unleashed from judgment. Of course, she noticed their individual differences as they undressed – the flatness or not of their stomachs, the shape of their thighs, the spread of their pubic hair – but she felt no embarrassment, no sense of competition, not even the fleeting, confusing sensation of desire. The girls’ bodies, she had thought, would look like they belonged on Lark. They would be country bodies, feral and tight and brown, their heels blackened from contact with the earth, but this wasn’t the case. The Eldest Girls were as inconvenient and as pale as Viola, because Lark’s landscape wasn’t one you romped across or lounged upon. You battled with it. You wore clothing like armour.

The four girls lifted their arms to the darkening sky, shivering. It was so very cold.

‘We are here for you, Bethany Reid!’ said Britta. ‘You are not forgotten.’

‘And to the ten men gone,’ called Anna.

‘We defend the ones we love from evil,’ said Viola, her voice strong and loud.

‘No matter what!’ affirmed Jade-Marie.

And then there was a flash.

The girls gasped and wrapped their arms around themselves. There had been no rain, no thickening of the air to suggest a storm was upon them. Had they brought this burst of light into being with their naked conviction? Was this a sign that those on the other side could hear their pleas, that they were there now, with them in spirit?

Then came laughter. Male laughter.

Anna realised first; screaming, crouching low, snatching at one of the oversized nightdresses to cover herself. Another flash, and Jade-Marie, Britta and Viola were grasping for clothing too. Not fast enough. Another flash. The girls bundled together – one cold, pale animal with many naked limbs.

The figure was indistinct, dancing within the shivering circle of light printed on their retinas, becoming clearer with every blink.

‘Go away!’ shrieked Jade-Marie. ‘Go away!’

‘Why is he here?’ cried Britta. ‘Oh, god, I can’t believe he’s seen us like this!’

‘He has a torch,’ said Anna. ‘Why’s he flashing us with a torch?’

‘No,’ said Viola. ‘It’s not a torch.’ She was the only one who recognised that smooth rectangular object in his hands. ‘It’s not a torch,’ she said, the words seeming to soothe them, though they should have done the opposite. ‘It’s not a torch, it’s not a torch.’

Friday the 13th – April 2018

FRIDAY THE 13th – APRIL 2018