Ardent Reservations

      It wasn’t like Martin to be late. Then again, it also wasn’t like Martin to choose a place like this to meet. He’d said he had heard of this new restaurant, and wanted to meet up while he was in town, for old times’ sake. I cautiously walked over to the door, and reached for the handle.

           ‘Is that who I think it is? Henry!’

           I jumped with a start, turning around to a laughing man. He wore a suit, with a shirt a little too short for him. He had tried to stuff his stomach into his pants, but it stuck out slightly. He was short, with a well-trimmed beard and what looked to be a reasonably convincing toupee.

           ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ he asked in his booming voice. ‘Jim, from Arden. I know I’ve put on a bit of weight since those days.’

           My eyes widened. I truly hadn’t recognised him, and I struggled to recognise him even when I knew who he was. Not wanting to offend him, I quickly composed myself.

           ‘Jim, of course! My god, how long has it been?’

           ‘God, about twenty years, I’d say.’

           He leant over and clapped me on the back. I was still struggling to form a sentence in my mind.

           ‘What…what are you doing here? Last I heard you’d gone off to Dublin.’

           He sighed. ‘Family problems. Dad’s hip is playing up.’

           ‘Oh, that’s…that is most unfortunate. But what are you doing here?’

           I grimaced, hoping I hadn’t come across as too insensitive. Jim didn’t seem upset.

           ‘Meeting up with an old friend. Apparently this place is pretty swanky. Doesn’t look like much though, does it? You tried the door?’

           I shook my head, turning back and pulling on the handle. The door swung open.

           ‘Well, should we just go in?’ Jim asked.

           I hesitated at the door, before reaching along the wall for the light switch. I examined the lit-up room. There was a bar made out of black metal, and some bar stools that looked to be made out of pipes of some kind. In front of the window was a round table, set for five people. Five chairs, five sets of cutlery, and five glasses. There were bottles of red wine, and bread and butter placed on the table. I looked around, and was surprised when I realised it was the only table in the room.

           Jim shuffled in behind me, shutting the door.

           ‘Well, this doesn’t look right,’ he muttered, scratching his head as he scanned around the room.

           I walked over to the table and saw that there were little name tags in front of every chair.

           ‘Jim, this one has your name on it…who did you say you were meeting?’

           He cleared his throat. ‘Just an old friend. You might remember him actually, from our days at Arden. Bill Harrison.’

           ‘Yes, Bill, of course…’

           Jim walked over to his place at the table and shuffled into his seat, pouring himself a glass of wine. I stared at him in disbelief.

           ‘Don’t you think this is odd? When was the last time you saw Bill?’

           Jim reached for the loaf of bread. ‘Probably about twenty years ago.’

           He broke the bread, spreading butter along it. Jim seemed to pay me little attention now food was in front of him.

           ‘And he sends you a letter, out of the blue?’ I asked.

           Jim frowned, downing his wine. ‘How do you know it was a letter?’

           Reluctantly I took my seat at the table. I reached into my coat pocket and showed him the envelope.

           ‘Because I got one, also from an Arden boy I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Martin Cross.’

           ‘Oh, Martin! God, I remember him.’

           ‘So, two people we haven’t seen for twenty years, and they both invite us for dinner in the same place.’

           He stared at me blankly.

           ‘At the same table,’ I continued. ‘Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

           The door swung open. I turned quickly. There was a tall, handsome looking man, with perfectly groomed hair and eyebrows. He wore an immaculate, expensive looking three-piece suit that fit him perfectly. I felt my throat tighten as he looked at me.

           ‘This isn’t quite what I was expecting. Then again, the letter was a little vague,’ he said with a smile.

           ‘Welcome to the club, mate. Take a seat!’ Jim exclaimed, now pouring his second glass of wine.

           He took the seat next to mine. When he looked at me, I felt a shiver run along my back. There was something so powerful about his stare, and I didn’t know whether to be afraid or elated.

           ‘It seems like someone has written these letters and brought us here,’ I said, attempting to sound as calm as I could. ‘A practical joke perhaps.’

           I searched the man’s face. He looked slightly disappointed, or perhaps just confused. He had dark, deep eyes, with perfectly tousled, dark hair framing his face. His cheekbones were pronounced, and his face was perfectly symmetrical in every way imaginable.

           ‘And are you an Arden boy?’ Jim asked through a mouthful of bread. ‘I don’t remember you.’

           He nodded. ‘Yes, I was. I tended to keep to myself a bit more back then. I was a shy kid, if you’ll believe.’

           ‘What reason would you have to be shy? Look at you.’

           I cleared my throat, shocked that I’d said the words out loud. I quickly began to pour myself a glass of wine.

           ‘I just mean, you look so confident and put together now. I can’t picture it.’

           His eyes remain fixed on me. I reluctantly turned to meet his gaze.

‘I guess I’ve changed a bit.’

           And my throat clenched up once more. I recognised who he was. I checked his name card just to be sure. It was Ted. I downed my glass of wine. Luckily, I was not left alone in my torment for long. A car screeched to a halt outside. Moments later, the door swung open.

           ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Bill said. ‘I’ve got a booking for…oh blimey.’

           He turned the corner and noticed all of us. Bill looked exactly as I remembered. He had a stern face, and his brow was permanently furrowed. But in many ways, he still looked like a boy.

           ‘Bloody hell Jim, I didn’t realise you’d gotten a whole gang together.’

           He strode over to the bar. ‘A glass of whisky, good chap.’

           ‘Of course, sir.’

           I turned suddenly, audibly gasping. There was a man at the bar, in a black suit. He had grey, slicked back hair, and a thin moustache. He certainly hadn’t been there before. I turned to Jim, who seemed just as shocked as me.

           ‘I thought this whole thing had your name written all over it, Bill,’ Jim said, his eyes scanning the bartender nervously.

           The man at the bar placed the whisky down, which Bill finished instantly. He turned back to look at Jim.

           ‘Well, I’ll admit mate, I was surprised to receive your letter. I certainly didn’t expect all of this…’

           He examined the table, taking a seat next to Jim. ‘Oh, these name cards are a nice touch.’

           Jim scoffed. ‘Mate, you sent me a letter! I’ve got it right here!’

           He clumsily reached into his suit and pulled out a crumpled letter. I looked at mine once more. It was the same writing.

           Bill chuckled. ‘You never were great at jokes, Jim. Best give it a rest.’

           His face grew red. ‘It wasn’t me!’

           ‘It wasn’t any of us,’ I said. ‘All of these letters. They’re in the same handwriting. Someone brought us here.’

           The man behind the bar cleared his throat. ‘Were we ready for the menus, or shall I wait until your final guest arrives?’

           Jim snapped. He stood up, bumping the table as he moved over to the bar. Bill grabbed the wine to hold it steady.

‘And who the bloody hell are you? I suppose you know what’s going on here!’

           ‘Perhaps I will wait.’ The man walked away from the bar and down the hallway.

           Jim began to make his way after him. Ted stood up and blocked his path.

           ‘It’s not worth it. He isn’t responsible for this.’

           ‘How the bloody hell do you know?’

           ‘This has to be someone from Arden. It is the only way they’d know how to track us all down.’

           Jim and Ted stood in silence, staring each other down. Jim reluctantly returned to his seat, finishing off the bread on the table. Ted sat back down, examining the last notecard. It was for Martin.

           ‘And who wrote your letter?’ I asked him. It could have been my imagination, but he seemed nervous.

           ‘You did.’

           ‘Maybe this is Martin’s doing,’ Jim muttered.

           ‘Martin…’ Bill repeated. ‘Was he that scrawny one? God, that weird kid never said a word.’

           Jim chuckled. ‘No, not Martin. That was…God, what was his name? Oh, he was a right laugh, the poor chap.’

           Ted turned to look at me. My face grew hot, and I stared down at my feet. They didn’t know.

           ‘Theodore,’ Bill blurted out with a chuckle.

           Jim laughed. ‘Yes, that was right! Oh god, I wonder where that kid is now?’

           Bill suddenly turned to Ted, as though he only just saw he was there.

           ‘Forgive me old chap. I’m Bill Harrison. It’s a pleasure.’

           Bill extended his hand, and Ted shook it reluctantly.

           ‘I’m…’

           The door swung open.

           ‘Oh, I’m most sorry for…’

           Martin examined us all with wide eyes. ‘Oh, Jim…I didn’t realise this was a group get-together! I would have brought a bottle of brandy!’

           Martin had begun to grey early, although it appeared he was trying to cover it up with hair dye. His tie was off-centre, as though he’d gotten ready in a hurry. He took the last seat at the table.

           ‘Funny place this is! Oh gosh, Bill! Last I heard you were at some posh law firm.’

           ‘And Henry! You were travelling through Asia!’ He continued, turning at last to Ted.

           He gasped. ‘Theodore? Oh, that can’t be you! Why, I barely recognised you! What are you all doing back here?’

           I turned to look at Jim and Bill. They seemed to be struggling to breath.

           ‘Where’s that damn waiter?’ Bill muttered.

As though on command, he returned carrying a silver tray. I frowned, examining it as he brought it over. There was no food, but rather five envelopes. He placed them all down in front of us.

‘Oh, and what’s this now?’ Bill said in exasperation.

‘Compliments of the house,’ he said, before walking away. I looked down. It had my name on it. I turned to Ted; he was staring down at his letter with pursed lips. Reluctantly, I opened the letter and began to read.

I’m going to die today. I know it. I didn’t expect my days at Arden to follow me, yet somehow, he’s found me. He’s going to shut me up for good this time. That bloody Arden boy…I remember that time vividly. Martin, Theodore, Jim, and Bill…Their faces follow me still. God, all I wanted was to come clean. He won’t let me. I know he’s found me, and he’s going to kill me. My conscious has been the death of me; how fitting. Oh God, forgive me, and if you can, forgive…

The letter stopped. I examined it carefully. It was a photocopy of a letter written in calligraphy, with a dark stain at the bottom. I looked in the envelope. There was a photograph inside.

‘Dear God,’ Jim muttered, promptly throwing up on the floor beside him.

Ted clasped his mouth with his hand. I turned to look at Bill, and he was shaking. I pulled out the photo. It was Connor, our classmate from Arden. And he was covered in blood.

‘What sick, twisted joke is this?’ Jim exclaimed, clutching his chest.

Ted stood up, staggering backwards and knocking over his chair. ‘Who would…I…I don’t understand…’

‘Oh, screw this!’ Bill yelled, marching towards the door. He tried the handle. The door wouldn’t open. He turned back to us.

‘Who the hell did this? This isn’t funny!’

Bill stormed over to the hallway. The door had been shut. It was also locked. He beat his fist on the door.

‘Let us out you prick! I will sue you!’

My eyes darted between Jim and Martin, who both looked ghostly pale.

‘Okay, stop!’ I exclaimed. ‘Bill, stop, this isn’t helping.’

Bill gave the door one final bash, before storming over to the bar and reaching for the bottle of whisky.

‘We have to be rational. Someone brought us here because they think we murdered Connor.’

Martin’s voice was shaking. ‘And they want us to do what? Come clean?’

I walked back to the table, examining the letter. I read it once more, before flipping it over.

‘There’s more…’

           Martin leant over to look. ‘Come clean about what you did at Arden and you’ll be let out. If not, I’m going to the police…’

           Ted was pacing back and forth. ‘No one’s going to admit this, knowing you lot. We should just call the police, and they can let us out.’

           Bill slammed his fist on the bar. ‘No! We can’t call the police.’

           We were all taken aback for a moment, stunned into silence.

           ‘Why the bloody hell not?’ Martin exclaimed. ‘Why should we play this bloody game?’

           ‘They’re clearly blackmailing us,’ Bill spluttered. ‘Who knows what dirt they have on us?’

           “Do you have something to hide?’ Ted asked.

           ‘Oh, come off it! I was mean to you once in school. Doesn’t mean I killed him!’

           Ted’s hands were clenched into fists. He marched over to the other end of the room and leant against the wall, his leg shaking.

           ‘Look,’ I said, trying my best to remain calm. ‘It doesn’t mean that one of us killed him, but someone thinks we did. Connor obviously had a secret, some dirt on one of us. We just need to work out what it was.’

           ‘You seem to have too many answers,’ Martin muttered, eyeing me off.

           I rolled my eyes. ‘Just trying to work it out.’

           I got to my feet, and walked over to Ted. He was the only one I felt like I could trust.

           ‘So, it’s something that connects us all then,’ Ted said. ‘Otherwise, why would all of our names be mentioned?’

           I paused. My heart dropped in my stomach. ‘Camp. At Churchmark Shallows.’

           Ted and I shared a knowing look.

           ‘We all shared a cabin…’ Martin said, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘Connor too.’

           I eyed off Bill. He scoffed.

           ‘How do you know what happened, Henry? You and Ted weren’t even there! You’d run off somewhere. You have no proof!’

He was red in the face, and shaking. I turned back to Ted. He was as shocked as I was.

           ‘Did what, Bill?’ Jim asked shakily, stepping back.

           Martin stood up. ‘My God. That boy who went missing. James…you said you saw him running off to the forest. They never found him.’

           ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

           ‘Bill, what are you on about? We have no proof…what the hell does that mean?’ Martin asked.

           ‘You better be bloody careful who you’re accusing, Martin. Henry and Theodore were in the forest that night, weren’t you Henry? You had to shut James up, isn’t that right?’

           My face grew hot. Bill was smirking.

‘Why would I do that…’

           ‘He knew, is that right? He saw you two together, and you had to kill him.’

           ‘Knew what?’ 

           ‘That you’re gay.’

           ‘Bill, shut up,’ Theo muttered.

           Bill chuckled. ‘Oh, I saw you two together. I was coming back from the cliffs. Thought everyone had gone to bed, did you?’

           Ted’s fists tightened. ‘Alright, seriously, stop this.’

           ‘Did you kill him, Teddy? Just snapped? We all knew it’d happen…’

           Ted lunged for Bill. He ducked behind the bar, laughing. I held back Ted, though he tried to shrug me off.

           ‘Wait!’ I said shakily. Ted persisted, but eventually stopped resisting.

           ‘We were in the forest that night,’ I admitted. ‘And we didn’t see James running off, like you said he did. So, Bill, I think you’re full of it. What were you doing out at the cliffs that night?’

           We all watched Bill with bated breaths. He staggered back slightly as he stood up from behind the bar, empty whisky bottle in hand.

           ‘Alright, fine! I killed him. What now?’

           ‘What the hell, Bill? Why did you do it?’ Jim asked, slowly stepping back.

           ‘We were messing around, you know how kids are. It’s not really my fault. He just kind of slipped…off the cliff.’

           ‘Why the hell are you laughing?’ Martin yelled, crouching beside the table.

           Bill continued to smirk at them. ‘I didn’t kill Connor, if that’s what you’re worried about. What proof would he have? He saw me leave the cabin, so what? No one can trace this back to me.’

           The hallway door unlocked with a click. Connor was standing in the hallway. Bill’s eyes grew wide. He stood, frozen.

           ‘Sorry, for all of the eccentricities. I hope you’ll understand it was the only way.’

           I turned to look at Ted. He looked like he had seen a ghost. In a way, we all had.

           ‘You still have no proof,’ Bill muttered. He was starting to sweat.

           Connor strolled over to the glasses above the bar, pointing at a security camera. Beside it was what looked to be a recording device. Suddenly, Bill rushed over to the table, picked up one of the chairs, and swung it through the window. The glass shattered over the footpath, and he leapt through and disappeared into the night. We all stood in a silent shock.

           ‘Well, who wants dinner?’ Connor asked eventually.

           We had somehow lost our appetites.