Backwards Into Hell

Part Two: The LFG

Jake's Diary

Tuesday 26th October

Delilah's funeral, as much as we tried, was less heartfelt than Harriet's. Lottie said a few words but all she managed was to recount the facts we already knew—a student and wannabe journalist. Nobody mentioned the track marks on her arms. Nobody even noticed.

Lily had emerged from her room around eleven am, panda-eyed and yawning, but quickly agreed to our plans. Since David had taken over, he'd assigned Anais to manage the food—Lottie had protested at first, but David had placated her, saying Lily needed her help to decorate the boat—and I'd been given the job of sous chef. We spent a while taking orders out in the yard, which was now peppered with fresh graves and wood, and retired to the kitchen to start chopping.

My fingers were almost numb by the time I reached the last carrot, and as I swept the chunks into the large pot for Anais to boil, Abe staggered inside.

'Jake? Could I talk to you for a minute?'

Anais narrowed his eyes. 'We're not meant to go off alone.'

What are they up to?

I looked at Anais and shrugged. Sensing no danger, he let us go.

'Just don't leave me to do all the work,' he called as we left. I think it was a joke, but the way he delivered it was cold.

Abe and I moved into the cool lobby and I watched his eyes fill with the same nerves. They were a strange colour—a mixture of green and blue—reminding me slightly of the sea.

'What is it?'

'I'm going to tell her.'

Not this again.

'We might never get out of this and if we don't, I couldn't—'

'Why are you coming to me?'

'So I don't chicken out.' He half-chuckled.

'If you don't want to tell her, I can—'

'No, no. I have to do it. Just make sure I do.'

I nodded slowly. It was a stupid plan.

Morally speaking, of course Abe should've told his wife about his illegitimate son, but then again, I'm in no position to harp on about right and wrong.

What's the point of morality anyway?

From where I'm writing, it seems a momentous waste of time.

'He's called John, you know.'

'Who?' I asked, confused by the sudden one-eighty.

'My son. He's lived on the Island his whole life—and I knew about him!' He shook his head. 'I could've visited any time.'

Abe, surprisingly, manage to weigh on my heart. I put my hand on his shoulder, a small act that softened his eyes.

'You're doing the right thing.'

He nodded. 'I'll tell her.'

But we both knew he wouldn't.

Lunch was made and we gathered in the dining room. David, Lily, and Darren were red and sweating from their work with the boat, so I felt slightly guilty at the energy I had when I presented the meal—a steaming cottage pie complete with gravy, vegetables, and some fish fingers we'd found at the back of a cupboard.

Their voices were happier now.

Smells good.

I've always hated mince.

Would anyone notice if I took extra?

The dining room was rapidly becoming the focal point of The Lodge. It was where we discussed the day's events, came up with theories and made plans. It felt strange because my family was never one that ate together. The closest we came was sitting on the same sofa, half-watching a dull TV show.

It stayed like that until I found Rachel every day, no matter how tired we were or if we were in the middle of an argument, at six o'clock exactly, one of us would take something out of the oven and we'd eat together. No technology. No TV. Just us.

It was the same at The Lodge: the meal times were becoming set in stone, the same faces sat around the table and worryingly, I was becoming attached.

'David,' Lottie started as she finished a mouthful of potato which she'd doused in salt, 'We should talk about the long term, in case the boat doesn't work.'

David sat back and folded his arms. 'The boat's going to work.'

'Even if it does, we might not find anyone on the next Island,' Lily interjected and faces fell. No one had considered that. 'The whole world could be...'

The sentence was too horrific to finish.

David cleared his throat. 'Let's focus on the boat, but we can consider other options after dinner. We might have to start farming.'

This gathered a few nods as Lottie coughed and gestured to me.

'Pass the salt?'

'You're not doing your heart any good,' Abe said as I grabbed the shaker.

'Ah, but that's the thing—because we're here, Dr Mackenzie can't touch me.' Lottie chuckled darkly and took the salt.

Her words made me reflect, and in the dying candle light, I saw an opportunity. 'Because we're here, I don't have to worry about court.'

David, next to me, stabbed a potato and caught on. 'I don't have to diet.' He got a few laughs.

'I can paint,' said Lily.

'Mum can't nag me,' added Anais.

Darren smiled. 'I don't have to worry about money.'

Abe was next. 'And the bakery is a whole country away.'

'And what about you, Caleb? Got anything you're glad about?' Lottie swung a fork in the kid's direction, and, shockingly, he spoke.

'Toilet?'

The table erupted into cackled laughter as David frowned and carried him away.

'Wish me luck,' he said as the door swung shut behind him.