Page 59 of The Cut
Cat and Annie have set up a picnic blanket by the edge of the water and are lying on their bellies, picking daisies, making tiny holes in their stems with their fingernails and linking them together.
Annie is adjusting her crown of flowers when she spots Mark at the entrance to the mill. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Up there.’ Mark turns back and regards the tower, from which he’s just descended, with pride. He starts to jog over.
‘Mark, wait! There’s a load of cow sh—’ Too late. Mark lifts his foot from the grass, flip-flop dangling ankle-deep in stinking green-brown gunk.
‘Whoopsie.’
Cat puts her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. ‘You can say that again.’
‘Very funny.’ He hops towards the edge of the water to wash his foot.227
‘Want some squash?’ Annie calls out, holding a blue plastic flask from her open lunch box. ‘We brought sarnies too, corned beef and Branston, and some Bakewell tarts if you’re hungry. Mum made them.’
Mark flops down, all cleaned up. He flips the lid of the flask and takes a sip. ‘Oh my gosh, it’s scorching … I’m so hot.’ He lies back on the blanket and lifts his foot, thrusting it into Cat’s face.
‘Eeuugh … it stinks. Get off.’ She rolls off the blanket and charges towards the water to cool off.
Annie takes a piece of tart from the lunch box and offers it to Mark. They both chew on the almond sweet pastry, the midday sun beating heavily down on their heads.
‘He promised to leave you alone, Mark.’ Annie fills the small plastic cup with lemon barley water.
‘What?’ Mark’s mouth is full of jam and pastry. ‘Who?’
‘Ben. I asked him to.’ Annie sips her drink and swats a fly buzzing around the food.
‘Oh no … what did you say to him?’ Mark stops chewing and looks grave for a second, as a long shadow creeps up his legs and body.
‘What did she say to who?’ Ben is standing behind Mark and, in the glare of the sun, he cuts a heroic silhouette in nothing but football shorts.
Annie glares at Ben. ‘Nothing. Talking about you, not to you.’
‘Bad-mouthing me to your little friend?’ He casts his eyes towards the mill: Dave and Chris are hobbling over, head to toe in mud, red-faced and sweaty. ‘HEY … DID YOU DO IT?’
Chris drops the branch he’s carrying and jogs over. ‘Yep, next torrential rainstorm and the wheel should move … Patel nearly committed Mata Hari.’
‘Hara-kiri, numb nuts.’ Ben laughs and heads over to join them.228
Patel calls over to Mark, ‘Come on, Cherry, don’t think we haven’t noticed that you haven’t been in the drink all day.’ Goading him.
‘Yeah, leave your gay little teddy bears’ picnic and get on that swing.’ Chris grabs Mark by the arm and hauls him to his feet.
Annie makes eye contact with Ben, a warning not to break their pact, not to renege on their deal. Ben, sulking, heads off towards the water’s edge.
‘OFF, OFF, OFF, OFF!’ Dave claps, as Chris pulls on Mark’s T-shirt. Lynette, arms freshly covered in lick’n’stick tattoos, jogs up, joining in the chant.
‘All right, I’ll go.’ Mark pushes Chris as he tries to pull down his shorts. ‘GET OFF ME! I can do it.’
‘OH MY GOD! He-Man? Haaaah!’ Lynette bursts out laughing at Mark’sMastersoftheUniverseswimming trunks, having been stripteased out of his trousers. ‘Come on then, He-Man, let’s see what you got!’
Annie and Cat sit quietly, saying nothing.
Mark approaches the willow as the chanting and clapping continues, and grips on to the rope for dear life, terrified as the gang pull back on the tyre. The bough of the willow creaks and cracks ominously.
‘One, two, three.’ The push that comes is too violent and far too high. Mark swings out above the water and his hands release from the rope. For a second, he is suspended in mid-air, a look of utter shock on his face. Then he plummets, falling heavy as a stone, face-first into the pond, belly flopping on to the surface of the water. It smacks him in the face with a force like landing on concrete. Everything goes dark.
The sound of water and the sudden shift from hot to cold create a strange sensation that Mark hadn’t prepared himself for. He229could just lie here, still and silently floating, suspended, calm and happy. The feeling of sinking is oddly comforting. Sinking into the dark, he curls himself into a foetal position and takes a deep breath in.
