The Choice. Kerry Barnes

to keep their minds firmly on doing things. Otherwise, too much time spent on reflection would bring all their worries to the fore. Poppy and Brooke were fun to be around, the three lads were tight, and all five of them seemed to gel effortlessly.

      The screeches and laughing simmered down as they slowly wandered inside. Poppy and Brooke were both huddled in the entrance hall, shivering inside their towels. Their eyes lit up when they spotted see-through bags of what looked like tracksuits, T-shirts, and jumpers. Arty was prodding the logs, stopping them from sliding off the grate.

      ‘All right, girls. We should be warm pretty soon unless you want the heating on as well.’

      Poppy looked tired. The pool was great for the recovery of her leg injury, but she still hadn’t really had enough time to recuperate from her ordeal.

      Brooke, however, was still lively and wandered over to the bags. ‘Arty, are these for us?’

      Arty was still kneeling on the floor, attending to the fire, but he looked over to see what Brooke was referring to. ‘Oh, yeah. Terrence stopped by. He dropped off some clobber. He doesn’t want us to leave the villa unless it’s an emergency.’

      Brooke was trying to see what exactly was in the bags; it wasn’t every day she was given new clothes.

      ‘Can I have a look? I need to get something warm and clean on.’

      Poppy sat shivering close to the fire. ‘Y-e-ss, me-e to-o.’

      With the go-ahead, Brooke began opening the bags. To her delight, they were crammed with designer clothing, with authentic labels, no less. Two fleece-lined Nike tracksuits in pastel shades caught her eye and instantly she looked at the size. They were spot-on. ‘Here, Poppy, this will warm you up. They’re lovely, so soft, and, Poppy, they’re Nike. Wow, I love them. Do you think we could keep them?’ she asked excitedly.

      Arty stood up and helped Brooke to carry the bags into the lounge. ‘Of course, babe. I don’t think they’ll look much cop on Terrence.’

      Brooke giggled and blushed, and then turned to her sister, who, by now, had blue lips and was covered in goose bumps. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

      Poppy nodded. ‘I’ve just got too cold, I think. Maybe I overdid it a bit.’

      Brooke quickly got her sister to her feet. ‘Come into the other room, get out of those wet bits, and I’ll help you get dressed. You will warm up soon enough.’

      While the girls left to get changed in the games room, Liam and Ricky came into the lounge, still laughing. Both looked like drowned rats. ‘Where are the girls?’ asked Ricky, clearly concerned for them.

      ‘Getting changed, I believe. Oh, yeah, there are tracksuits for you two. Terrence dropped them off. We ain’t to leave the villa, apparently. He brought us some big steaks an’ all, so we can have a right good feast up.’ He stepped back away from the huge TV screen and fiddled with the remote. ‘There we go, lads. A warm fire, a good film, and you, Liam, ya think ya some kinda naked chef, so you can cook us all dinner!’

      Liam rubbed his hands together, beaming. ‘Yep, ol’ Gordon Ramsay has nothing on me.’

      Ricky laughed and shook his head. He enjoyed Liam’s sunny personality. He was always so upbeat and funny. In fact, he laughed at everything, including himself, sadly.

      As they all sat around the fire, drinking beers, Liam, the joker, dressed in just an apron, came into the lounge holding a frying pan. ‘So, how d’ya like ya steaks?’

      They all fell about laughing as he turned around to show his bare backside. Poppy winked and laughed along. ‘If I could get to my feet quick enough, I think I’d slap that arse of yours.’

      Her sudden change to a cockney accent made everyone roar, including Liam, who was loving the attention, especially from, as he saw her, the prettiest girl in Spain.

      Ricky threw him a tracksuit. ‘Get dressed, or the sight of your two cheeks will put me off me steak.’

      Liam dodged the tracksuit as it flew past him and landed in the kitchen. Laughing away, he returned to cook the steaks.

      Poppy had stopped shivering and was now curled up sipping her beer, while Arty flicked through the TV channels.

      Ricky laid his head back and closed his eyes. With tiredness sweeping over him, perhaps he too had overdone the playtime in the pool.

      Brooke chatted away to Arty about the best Marvel movie she’d watched, which impressed Arty because he had a liking for the same film.

      After a few minutes, Arty called out to Liam, ‘Oi, chef, are you fucking milking that cow or cooking it? I want mine rare, mate.’ He chuckled, but there was only silence.

      Suddenly, the room went quiet. Ricky opened his eyes and held his breath. Brooke looked at Poppy with tremendous fear on her face. Arty silently got up and put his finger to his mouth, telling the others to be quiet. He backed away from the lounge, hurried to the games room, and returned with a gun in his hand. ‘Liam!’

      Ricky was now on his feet and behind Arty as they crept towards the kitchen. As they reached the door, Arty cocked the gun and peered in, but the kitchen was empty. The frying pan was sizzling away, but the tracksuit was on the floor, and Liam was gone.

      ‘What the fuck?’

      The side door slammed shut. Arty ran across the marble floor and ripped the door open. Outside, there was no sign of movement, and the air was still, with no obvious sound whatsoever. And no lights could be seen. It was baffling. Liam had seemingly vanished into thin air.

      ‘Liam!’ screamed Arty.

      Ricky ran back to the lounge to check the girls were still there. ‘Liam’s gone. Stay there. Don’t move.’

      Poppy grabbed Brooke’s hands, and, instantly, they both held each other. This was so terrifying, like one of those slasher movies.

      Ricky ran into the games room and pulled one of the shotguns from its case. He then dashed to the pool, where, immediately, the floodlights came on, lighting up the complete back area. ‘Liam!’ he screamed. But all he could hear was an echo of his own voice.

      Arty ran from the side of the villa around to the back where Ricky was standing, now totally flummoxed.

      ‘Christ, what if they’ve got him? I mean, how the fuck did it happen?’ asked Arty, whose face was deathly white.

      ‘Are the two cars still there? Maybe, he left to go to the shop to get other stuff for dinner.’

      Arty shook his head and peered at the innocent expression on Ricky’s face. ‘The cars are both there, and he wouldn’t go out in just that fucking stupid apron. Ricky, someone’s got to him. Oh, Jesus Christ, they’ve got him …’ He suddenly ripped at his hair and tears filled his eyes. ‘Oh no, no, no!’ he cried.

      Ricky could feel his mate’s pain as Arty slumped to the floor, banging his fist like a silverback gorilla.

      ‘Wait, Arty. We don’t know for sure. Come on back inside. Let’s think.’

      Arty allowed Ricky to pull him to his feet as he sniffed back a tear. ‘Christ, Ricky, if they have him, it’s my fault. I said he should cook dinner. Fuck. If only I was in the kitchen, not Liam.’

      Ricky put his arm around Arty’s shoulder. ‘Listen, we need to think straight, right? Call his phone.’

      Arty snapped out of his grief and worry and started to head back inside the villa. He looked at the girls, who had now come outside to see what was going on.

      Poppy was as white as a sheet, too afraid to actually know the truth. Brooke could tell it was serious by the look in Arty’s eyes. ‘Someone’s taken him, haven’t they, Arty?’

      Arty was too upset to reply. His deflated expression spoke volumes about what he felt inside. He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her look of concern.

      Ricky