Free Cruel Minds by Malcolm Richards Page A

better hurry before we lose the light.”
    “Lead the way.”
    Emily had taken three steps when she felt a sudden urge to look back towards the house. Oscar was standing in the foyer. He stared at her through the open front door, his thin smile growing sharp edges in the shadows. He nodded once, then turned towards the stairs.
    ***
    T he evening was warm and heady, the sun-baked earth dry beneath their feet. Above the canopies, the sky was ablaze with molten fire.
    “This way,” Melody said, leading Emily northwards across the meadow. They entered the forest side by side. It didn’t take Melody long to find the path that would take them to the lake. Neither of them spoke as they walked. Instead, they listened to the sounds that evening brought in the forest. Birds sang out from branches. Crickets chirruped in the undergrowth. Nocturnal creatures stirred from their daytime slumber.
    The path twisted and curled around countless tree trunks, then changed trajectory as the ground began to slope. Minutes later, the trees parted and Emily saw the tranquil waters of the lake.
    “Come on,” Melody said, at last. She led Emily along the lake’s edge until they came to a wooden jetty. It was old and rickety-looking, and for a second, Emily felt reluctant to follow Melody onto it.
    “It’s fine, really. See?”
    Melody sprang on her feet, hopscotching like a child between the planks until she reached the end. A small rowboat was moored to the side, gently bobbing up and down.
    Stepping forwards, Emily tested the jetty with her foot. Then, satisfied she would not go plummeting into the lake, she moved along the planks until she stood next to Melody. Together, they sat down, swinging their legs above the water.
    The lake was small, perhaps a hundred metres wide and two hundred long. Beech, oak and pine trees bordered its edges. Some were bent over like crooked old men, their lowest branches touching the surface. A flurry of wings flew over the water as birds splashed and fished. Emily watched a large heron swoop down, using its impressive wingspan and long legs to control its descent.
    “I can see why this is your favourite place,” she said.
    Melody continued to swing her feet.
    “Sometimes I daydream that I live in a beautiful log cabin right by this lake. Every morning I open the shutters and the sun streams in. It’s always warm. I walk to the end of the jetty, take off my clothes, and I get in. The water’s cool against my skin. I swim for hours. And I catch fish, which I cook on a camp fire for me and Derek. Later in the day, we go for a long walk in the forest, and when evening comes, we sit on the jetty like we are now, watching the sunset. Every day is the same, but it doesn’t matter because every day is beautiful.”
    Emily closed her eyes, picturing Melody’s daydream. Sadness overwhelmed her. She looked at her companion. Tears glistened on Melody’s skin like drops of sunset.
    “What is it?” Emily asked. “What’s wrong?”
    Melody giggled but it was a pitiful sound. She was quiet for a long time, staring into the water. The sun had reached the treetops. It would be dark soon. Finding their way through the forest and back to the house would be difficult.
    “Sometimes, I think I must be the loneliest person in the world,” Melody said. More tears ran down her face. “Sometimes, I think the only thing keeping me here is Derek.”
    Emily took Melody’s hand, feeling her pain pass into her like a disease.
    “Loneliness is the cruellest thing I can think of,” she said. Thoughts of her mother, of Phillip Gerard, swam in her mind. She felt Melody squeeze her fingers.
    “There are far crueller things than loneliness,” she said.
    Pulling a tissue from her pocket, Emily handed it to her.
    “Has something happened?” she asked, watching as Melody dabbed at the tears. When she was done, she folded the tissues into a neat square, then folded it over again.
    “Look at me!” she said. “What a show! I’m