Page 64 of High Season

FIFTY-ONE

The world goes quiet.

There is a rushing sound in Hannah’s ears. The heat of Blake’s breath against her face. The weight of him pushing down on her. She thinks of Mason and Noah and Isla. She thinks of Eric.

She sees, as her vision turns red, Tamara Drayton.

Not as she has seen her for the past twenty years, gray and limp on the side of the pool.

She sees her laughing with Blake, the flicker of energy that always seemed to dance in the air between them.

She sees her smoking cigarettes out on the terrace.

She sees her looking at Hannah, that steely determination in her eyes. The life within her. The fire.

Her vision is blurring. The light turning into static, a rush of stars. The world is silent and still, other than the pulse of her blood. The roar of sound that fills her skull.

For a second—for just a moment of strange clarity—Hannah wonders if this is what it was like for Tamara. If she, too, was filled with this strange feeling of being outside of herself. Of the world rushing away from her, with nothing she could do to stop it.

“Get away from her!”

Through the hum of her body fighting for air, Hannah does not quite register the voice.

Only the feeling of a weight lifting from her.

Air rushing back into her lungs. The sensations return to her body, and she is scrabbling for her own throat, clawing at the place where Blake’s hands held her tight, choking in her hurry to suck in oxygen.

Through explosions in her vision, she sees Nic, his arms around Blake as he pulls him away. She sees Josie. Imogen, her phone in one hand, held up toward them. Nina, looking straight at her brother, a slightly dazed look in her eyes.

“Take your fucking hands off me!”

Blake struggles against Nic, but her cousin holds him tightly around his torso and drags him backward.

“Nina.” Blake’s head thrashes back, trying to see his sister.

Nina’s face remains impassive, her mouth a straight line, her eyes hard.

“You lied to me,” she says softly. “All this time, you’ve been lying to me.”

“You let them in?” Blake is saying. “You let Josie Jackson into our house?”

“I let myself in,” says Josie.

“But I let the others in,” says Nina. “The rest of them. After Josie told me everything.”

Nic releases his grip and Blake, still braced against him, flails free, losing his balance and collapsing onto his hands and knees. Above him, Imogen holds up the phone and taps the screen. Hannah sees two figures twitch into life.

It’s over for us. For both of us, if you go to the police.

“Nina,” says Blake. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.”

“Did you really think I’d come see you without telling someone?” says Hannah. Her voice is quiet and unwavering. “Did you really think I’d let myself be alone with you?”

He looks at her with horror, and then back at Josie.

“You planned this.”

“Nina would never have believed me,” Hannah says. “It had to come from you.”

“Nina.” Blake is looking straight at his sister, not listening to Josie. “Nina. Please.”

Imogen holds her phone aloft. Facing them all, her thumb hovering above the screen.

It’s then that Hannah sees the video is already loaded into a social media app. That, beneath her hand, there is one large block of text.

Post video.

“You did this to me,” Nina says. “All the years of guilt. All the attention, and the lies, and almost destroying myself wondering why I didn’t remember. Wondering if I had told the truth.”

“Oh, come on, Nina,” Blake says. “This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Her voice is shrill. “What is it about, Blake? Is it about the fact that you drugged our sister? That you forced people to stay quiet for you? That you let an innocent person go to prison because of it? All to save yourself.”

“Nina.” Blake’s voice is wheedling. Desperate. “Please. It’s not like that.”

“It’s too late,” Nina says.

She turns toward Imogen. Her voice is hoarse. Her eyes, when Hannah catches them, are glistening with tears.

“Do it,” she says.

Imogen is holding the phone up toward her, her thumb a half inch above the post video icon.

“You have to decide together,” she says. “If you want this. Once it’s out there, there’s no going back.”

Blake struggles against Nic again, swearing loudly, but Nic is taller than him, stronger. Hannah’s gaze flickers from Nina to Josie. When she meets Josie’s eye, they are exactly as she remembers them. They could be teenagers again. Hannah nods slowly.

“Yes,” she says. “It’s time.”

And there, with all of them watching, Imogen’s thumb jerks against the screen. A small wheel darts into motion, signaling the upload. In a moment, the video will appear on the feeds of Imogen’s millions of followers.

Blake breaks free of Nic then, lunges for her.

His arms reach out. His hands clasp at the air in front of him.

He is fast, but Hannah is faster. Flying toward him, knocking him forward, both of them tumbling toward the floor.

Her legs on either side of him, pinning him to the ground as he flounders, winded.

Imogen lifts her phone up, wordless.

Your upload was successful.

There is a pause. Seconds. Less. And then Imogen’s phone comes alive. Vibrating against the palm of her hand, the notifications lighting up her screen. Across the world, the very first people are reacting. Liking. Commenting. Sharing.

A new truth is rising, like divers breaking the surface of the sea. Breathing for the first time.