Czytaj książkę: «I Dare You»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Sam Carrington

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue: 1989

Chapter One: 2019: Anna

Chapter Two: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Three: 1989: Bovey Police Station, outskirts of Mapledon

Chapter Four: 2019: Anna

Chapter Five: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Six: 1989: Bovey Police Station

Chapter Seven: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eight: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Nine: 1989: Bovey Police Station

Chapter Ten: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eleven: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Twelve: 1989: Brook Cottage Store, Mapledon

Chapter Thirteen: 2019: Anna

Chapter Fourteen: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Fifteen: 1989: Mapledon

Chapter Sixteen: 2019: Anna

Chapter Seventeen: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Eighteen: 1989: Mapledon

Chapter Nineteen: 2019: Anna

Chapter Twenty: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Twenty-One: 1989: Blackstone Close

Chapter Twenty-Two: 2019: Anna

Chapter Twenty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Twenty-Four: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Twenty-Five: 2019: Anna

Chapter Twenty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Twenty-Seven: 1989: Hayes residence

Chapter Twenty-Eight: 2019: Anna

Chapter Twenty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Thirty: 1989: Blackstone Close

Chapter Thirty-One: 2019: Anna

Chapter Thirty-Two: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Thirty-Three: 1989: Mapledon Church

Chapter Thirty-Four: 2019: Anna

Chapter Thirty-Five: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Thirty-Six: 1989: Blackstone Close

Chapter Thirty-Seven: 2019: Anna

Chapter Thirty-Eight: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Thirty-Nine: 1989: Blackstone Close

Chapter Forty: 2019: Anna

Chapter Forty-One: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Forty-Two: 1989: Mapledon Churchyard

Chapter Forty-Three: 2019: Anna

Chapter Forty-Four: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Forty-Five: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Forty-Six: 2019: Anna

Chapter Forty-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Forty-Eight: 1989: Mapledon Park

Chapter Forty-Nine: 2019: Anna

Chapter Fifty: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Fifty-One: 1989: Brook Cottage Store

Chapter Fifty-Two: 2019: Anna

Chapter Fifty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Fifty-Four: 1989: Mapledon Primary School

Chapter Fifty-Five: 2019: Anna

Chapter Fifty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Fifty-Seven: 1989: Mapledon

Chapter Fifty-Eight: 2019: Anna

Chapter Fifty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Sixty: 1989: The Plough, Mapledon

Chapter Sixty-One: 2019: Anna

Chapter Sixty-Two: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Sixty-Three: 1989: Hayes residence

Chapter Sixty-Four: 2019: Anna

Chapter Sixty-Five: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Sixty-Six: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Sixty-Seven: 2019: Anna

Chapter Sixty-Eight: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Sixty-Nine: 1989: Brook Cottage Store

Chapter Seventy: 2019: Anna

Chapter Seventy-One: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Seventy-Two: 1989: Mapledon Church

Chapter Seventy-Three: 2019: Anna

Chapter Seventy-Four: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Seventy-Five: 1989: Inside Billy’s truck

Chapter Seventy-Six: 2019: Anna

Chapter Seventy-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Seventy-Eight: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Seventy-Nine: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eighty: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Eighty-One: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Eighty-Two: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eighty-Three: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Eighty-Four: 1989: The Mapledon Meeting

Chapter Eighty-Five: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eighty-Six: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Eighty-Seven: 1989: En route to Bovey Police Station

Chapter Eighty-Eight: 2019: Anna

Chapter Eighty-Nine: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Ninety: 2019: Eric

Chapter Ninety-One: 2019: Anna

Chapter Ninety-Two: 1989: A roadside in Mapledon

Chapter Ninety-Three: 1989: Fisher residence

Chapter Ninety-Four: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Ninety-Five: 2019: Anna

Chapter Ninety-Six: 1989: Outskirts of Mapledon

Chapter Ninety-Seven: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter Ninety-Eight: 2019: Eric

Chapter Ninety-Nine: 2019: Anna

Chapter One Hundred: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter One Hundred and One: 2019: Eric

Chapter One Hundred and Two: 2019: Anna

Chapter One Hundred and Three: 2019: Lizzie

Chapter One Hundred and Four: 1989: Bella

Chapter One Hundred and Five: 2019: Anna

Epilogue: 2019: Mapledon Church

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

Prologue
1989

‘Go on, Bella – do it now!’ the girl hissed. She slapped both hands over her mouth to prevent her near-hysterical laughter carrying across the man’s garden and alerting him to their presence.

Bella whipped her head around, her golden hair sweeping across her back like a closing curtain, and looked at her friend. ‘I don’t want to.’ Her voice was a broken whisper as tears threatened.

‘Don’t be a baby all your life. It’s just a silly game. He can’t even see you, I promise.’ The girl dared to edge out slightly from her hiding place behind the metal dustbin at the front of the garden, out of direct eye-line of the kitchen window.

The one he was at.

Bella followed her friend’s gaze. The man, his upper body filling the frame, stared out – his eyes like black slits, lost beneath bushy eyebrows.

The girl shrank down lower still. Bella knew her friend didn’t want to be the one caught out. She’d done her dare yesterday and succeeded. It was Bella’s turn now.

‘This is a stupid game,’ Bella said, moving forwards, her shoulders slumped, until she reached the bungalow. She pushed herself flat against the wall; the hard-stippled surface dug into the backs of her bare legs. She stood stock-still – only her eyes moved as she sought out her friend. She glared at her, silently begging to be let off the dare.

‘Creepy Cawley, Creepy Cawley,’ the other girl chanted, her tone hushed but loud enough to send chills down Bella’s spine; her legs began to shake, her fear visible. She wished she’d worn her corduroy trousers now, not the stupid cotton shorts again. It’s just a game, no need to be scared. But, despite trying to calm herself, her mum’s words of warning rang in her ears: You must never go near Mr Cawley. Ever. Do you understand? She’d said the police had been called lots of times because of kids trespassing on his property, annoying him. Terrorising him. Those were the words her mum had used. Bella closed her eyes tight, remembering how her mum had put one hand on her hip, holding the finger of her other hand out, wagging it like a metronome as she spoke in a stern voice: ‘It’s important you listen, Bella. To every word I say.’

Her mum said that one day someone would get hurt.

Bella didn’t want that day to be today, or for her to be the someone getting hurt.

‘You’re almost there! Go on!’

‘But it’s not nice.’ Bella’s voice susurrated through her gritted teeth.

‘Don’t be a chicken. I won’t play with you anymore if you don’t do it.’

Bella’s eyes, glassy with tears, travelled to the door. It was only a few feet away. But it seemed like the longest journey she would ever make.

Taking a deep breath, she lunged and ran, crashing against the door accidentally as her legs turned to jelly. In her fright, she almost bolted without completing the dare, but with her friend’s high-pitched screech hurtling across the garden, shouting, ‘Knock on the door, idiot!’ Bella did as she was told.

Two hard knocks later, her knuckles stinging, she was done.

The two girls ran – squealing with a mixture of exhilaration and terror – out of Creepy Cawley’s garden, out of the cul-de-sac and into the road leading back to their street.

Billy Cawley smiled as he watched their retreat.

They’d be back.

And next time he’d be ready.

Next time, he’d live up to his nickname and give them a real reason to scream.

Chapter One
2019
Anna

Friday 12th July

Anna replaced the receiver, forcibly tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked out of the secretary’s office without conversation. It wasn’t the first time her mother had phoned her at work, but it was one of the more worrying calls. She was determined not to pander to her, though – she’d responded to Muriel’s demands to leave right away by pointing out she had a responsibility for the children and it was only another hour until the bell. Then she would begin the journey down to Mapledon.

To the house where she grew up.

The one she’d longed to leave way before she had the means to do so.

‘Mrs Denver, Charlie is throwing the papier-mâché gloop everywhere!’

The shrill whine of the child brought Anna out of her thoughts.

‘He is going to have to clear up the mess he’s made, then, isn’t he?’ She placed her hand on the seven-year-old’s shoulders and guided her back to the classroom. Leaving her class unattended, even for a matter of minutes, was never a good idea – and especially on the final day of the term when all the children were hyped up ready for the summer break. ‘A spirited bunch’ was how the head teacher described them. Anna, whilst agreeing, also thought a few of them were just plain naughty. She’d never have allowed Carrie to act up like that – she expected more from her daughter – whether as a result of teaching other people’s children and witnessing their sometimes unruly behaviour, or as a result of her own strict upbringing, she couldn’t ascertain. It was a case of the chicken or the egg.

Having finally paired all the children with their respective adults, Anna flitted around the classroom clearing away the activities, tutting at the globs of slushy, sticky newspaper remnants now clinging to the tables like shit to a blanket. As she picked at some of the hardened paper, Muriel’s words played out in her head.

Something’s wrong, Anna. Something is very wrong.

Anna had sighed at her mother’s words, wondering what melodrama was about to unfold. But her gut had twisted as Muriel carried on with her story.

Now, washing and drying her hands with the small, rough towel, Anna decided she’d have to ring James and get him to have Carrie for the night despite it not being his turn. The journey to Mapledon would only take two hours or so from Bristol, but she didn’t want to take Carrie there – didn’t want her dragged into whatever was going on. If anything. Her mother could be over-reacting. When Anna was growing up that’d been her MO – even before Anna’s father had left and then more so when old-age shenanigans took over. But just in case, it would be better to go alone.

Grabbing her bag, she shouted goodbye to the remaining teachers, swept out of the building and climbed into her car. Her blue Escort spluttered into life and she drove out of the school gate. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turned right, joining the traffic that would take her to the M5.

Her mother’s words continued to repeat themselves inside her mind as she drove:

There was such a racket at the front of the house, it scared me half to death. When I mustered the courage to go out there, I found it.

Found what, Mum?

The doll’s head. Hammered to my front door.

Chapter Two
2019
Lizzie

The envelope, its corner peeping out from within the clump of mail she’d shoved behind the purple key pot – the one neither of them actually used for their keys, preferring instead to spend stressful minutes searching for the last place they’d flung them – glared at her like an accusation. Lizzie snatched it up, then slammed it down on the counter, taking a step back as though it were a dangerous object about to inflict harm.

Something told her it would do her harm. Its content, anyway. Mentally, not physically. She knew physical pain, had endured years of it growing up in various care homes. She could cope with that; was hardened to it. Her mental well-being had never caught up, though. That was still fragile, like butterfly wings – delicate, prone to breaking. She had to guard herself from outside factors.

Guard herself from the words the envelope held within.

She’d ignored it for as long as possible. Hidden it from Dom. Tried to forget about it. She should’ve ripped it up and binned it. Why hadn’t she? Sleep had been impossible, her thoughts, her imagination, keeping her awake hour after hour. She knew this had to be done.

Taking the envelope once again, she stared at the postmark. At the logo. It was definitely from the solicitor.

It’d happened thirty years ago. Lizzie had only been eight years old, but some memories never faded. Some intensified with age. There was much she didn’t remember – but those gaps had often been filled in for her by the people in the children’s home. Carers, teachers, the other kids – they’d all had something to say about it.

A sour taste filled Lizzie’s mouth as saliva flooded it.

She had to face this.

Tearing open the envelope before she could change her mind again, she pulled the crisp, white, headed paper from it.

Dear Mrs Brenfield,

As per your request, I write to inform you that Mr William Cawley is to be released from HMP Baymead, Devon, on the 9th July 2019.

Lizzie’s vision blurred, her grip loosened. Before she could read on, the paper fell to the ground.

Creepy Cawley had been released from his thirty-year sentence three days ago.

He was a free man.

Chapter Three
1989
Bovey Police Station, outskirts of Mapledon

Friday 21st July – 36 hours after the incident

Shock covered her face with a white mask. She didn’t remember how she’d come to be there, standing alongside her mother, whose long, thin arm formed a tight band around her shoulders. Protective, yet angry at the same time.

‘I’d told her. Told them. Warned them.’ Her mother’s voice was clipped, spoken in such a way as to make her seem out of breath. Maybe she was in shock, too.

‘I’m sure you did what you could,’ police officer Vern said. ‘As a parent myself, I know how difficult it is to keep your eyes on your children all the time. You have to give them some freedom, and as you say, it’s a small village – you don’t expect something like this to happen.’

‘No. No, you don’t,’ she agreed, her head shaking from side to side.

‘I’m sorry to have to keep you, I know you’d like to get your daughter back home, but I do need to speak with her. Try to get a fuller picture – a timeframe of events. It’s crucial we don’t waste any more time … You understand, don’t you?’

Her mother looked down at her as the officer spoke. A tingling feeling spread through her, reaching her fingertips, making them feel as though they were on fire. There was something in the tone of the policeman’s voice – a hidden meaning she couldn’t grasp. But by the look on her mother’s face, she knew it was bad. It was all bad. And now she’d have to tell them what had happened. What she’d caused to happen.

It was all her fault. She’d get the blame for it all.

Chapter Four
2019
Anna

Friday 12th July

The sign, greying with age and rusted at the edges, came into view and Anna’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles blanching.

MAPLEDON.

Even before she turned off the main road she could feel her world shrinking. The village had been all-consuming when she’d lived there – everyone had known everyone else, everyone attended the same events, frequented the same – and only – pub; all her friends’ parents lived in each other’s pockets, socialising together, some even working together. There were no secrets in Mapledon. No chances to mess up without someone knowing. No opportunities to play outside the rules.

She didn’t suppose it’d got any better in her absence.

As she took the right turn at the old tollhouse, the road narrowed. Anna tugged the steering wheel, pulling the car over abruptly. The light was fading more quickly now, the sun dipping behind the dark granite rock of Haytor on nearby Dartmoor. It was still warm, or maybe it was Anna’s anxiety heating her blood. She wound the window down, breathing in slowly and deeply. It even smelled the same. That couldn’t be possible, she knew – but it transported her back to her childhood. Back to the memories Mapledon held; the ghosts she’d left behind. With a deep sigh, Anna shook off the feeling and tried to gain control. She should get to her mother’s house before dark – before the ghosts came.

Shifting the gear into first, she set off again, heeding the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit through the village. That was something new, at least. Second right, next left … She swallowed hard as she reached the turning to her mother’s road. Slowly, she drove in. Her heart banged. There it was. The 1960s magnolia-coloured, end terraced house she’d grown up in. She hadn’t visited the house since she’d left twenty years ago. She hadn’t even stepped foot in the village since she escaped its clutches. All contact with her mother had been through telephone calls and in person with her mother’s biannual trips to Anna’s house in Bristol.

Her mother had never argued when Anna had politely declined each of her invitations over the years. Never questioned why. She guessed Muriel knew without having to ask. Anna’s strained relationship with her mum had begun the day her father had walked out on them for another woman. Anna had always considered herself a daddy’s girl, so she was devastated when he left. She’d blamed everyone over the years: her mother, him, and even herself. But the full weight of her anger and bitterness had often been aimed at her mother – after all, she was the only one present and Anna believed Muriel had been the one to drive the poor man into someone else’s arms in the first place.

But he’d left Anna, too. For that she’d blamed him. He’d moved to the other end of the UK – Scotland, the farthest he could get – and had broken off all contact: not a phone call, not a letter. He’d abandoned his only daughter because of something her mother had done. That was unforgivable.

Anna pulled the key from the ignition and, with a dragging sensation in her stomach, got out of the car.

‘Bloody hell.’ Anna sucked in a lungful of air. Why hadn’t her mother removed the thing from the front door? It set a chill in motion, starting deep inside her belly and radiating outwards. And something else too – just outside her grasp. She imagined the attention Muriel would’ve got from the neighbours – she’d have revelled in that, no doubt. Approaching the front step, Anna couldn’t peel her eyes away from the gruesome head pinned like a horror-film prop on the door. Her mother would’ve left it there so that Anna could get the full effect.

She had to admit, seeing it for herself did add the extra fright factor. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she may well have dismissed Muriel’s hysteria out of hand. Rather than pass the macabre doll’s head, Anna retreated and made her way to the back door instead. Nothing about the house seemed to have changed – the gravel in the small square of garden to the side of the shed remained, the shed itself was clearly the original – the stained-red wood now flaky, splintered and pale from the years of battering rain and hot summers; the greenhouse, now with a few broken panes, had survived. The garden ornaments looked as though they were positioned in the exact same places as when she’d left.

Time had stood still here.

‘Anna! Why are you sneaking around the back? For God’s sake, child, you nearly gave me a heart attack … I thought someone had come for me …’ Muriel’s breaths were rapid; one bony hand was held to her chest.

‘Hi, Mum. Sorry, I just couldn’t—’

‘No, no,’ her mother interrupted. ‘See what I mean, then? I’m not over-reacting, am I?’

‘It appears not.’ Anna approached her mother and gave her a brief hug, kissing her cheek, which was icy cold, like she was dead already. After stepping inside, she closed the back door and turned to face her mother. ‘So. What did the police say?’

Muriel dropped her gaze. ‘I’m not bothering them with this,’ she said curtly.

‘But it’s weird, and maybe even threatening. Why would you call me in a panic but not inform the police?’ Anna could feel the annoyance flowing through her body. She’d only been in the house for thirty seconds and already she was losing her patience. She shouldn’t have come back here.

‘It’ll be kids, won’t it? Nothing better to do with their time. Nothing changes there, does it?’

‘You seriously think kids hammered a head to your door? Why would they?’

‘Things have moved on from the simple knocking on the door and running away game, Anna.’ Her cool, blue-grey eyes penetrated Anna’s, sending a shiver trickling down her spine like cold water from a shower.

‘Kids or not, you have to call the police.’

‘No, no.’ Her mother placed a hand on Anna’s arm. ‘I think it’s best to ignore it. They’ll get bored, move on elsewhere. It’s just a game to them.’

‘If it’s just a game, why were you so scared when you rang me?’

‘A shock, that’s all. When it first happened I reacted badly. I called before I had time to think about it. Silly prank, that’s all.’

‘But two minutes ago you said “I’m not over-reacting, am I?” And coupled with me almost giving you a heart attack and you saying “I thought someone had come for me” – I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that you’re really freaked out by this and don’t think it’s just a silly game!’

‘You know how it is – now you’re here, I suddenly feel daft. It doesn’t seem half as scary as earlier. Living alone, it does things to you, love. Makes you see things that aren’t there.’

Anna felt even less convinced by this. ‘But the head is there. Plain as day. You’re not seeing things.’

‘Yes, the doll’s head is there, I know. It’s more that I see meanings that aren’t there – like I attach significance to something trivial, assume things, that kind of thing. Overthink everything these days. It’s my age, I expect.’ Muriel gave a lopsided smile, her entire face crinkling like tissue paper. Time hadn’t been kind to her mother. ‘Let’s have a tipple. I assume you’re staying the night, aren’t you?’

God. No. She most certainly wasn’t intending to. ‘Oh, erm … I only asked James to have Carrie for the evening,’ she lied. ‘I was going to drive back home later.’

‘Please stay, Anna. You haven’t been back in so long and I need you now. One night won’t kill you.’

It might.

Guilt surged through her. If she stayed tonight, there was a strong chance she’d be talked into staying the whole weekend – God forbid, even longer now that school had broken up for the summer holiday. James would jump at the opportunity to spend extra time with Carrie. The divorce had hit him hard, but it was the restricted time with Carrie that really hurt him. Her mother didn’t have to know that, though. ‘I’ll call James, see what he can do. But I can’t promise anything, Mum.’

Muriel’s face relaxed as she took two glasses from the display cabinet and poured a large glug of sherry into each one – she knew full well she was going to get what she wanted.

She always did.

Chapter Five
2019
Lizzie

Saturday 13th July

She hadn’t slept well, the night passing slowly as images of her childhood filled the hours which sleep should have. Lizzie had spent the bulk of her life trying not to remember her upbringing. Trying to bury it along with who she used to be. She wasn’t that girl anymore, but she knew it was just beneath the surface, lying dormant. She’d worked hard to keep this other self hidden. And up until the opening of the letter yesterday, she’d succeeded.

‘You were restless last night,’ Dom said as he appeared in the bedroom doorway, his toothbrush vibrating in his mouth, white foam escaping onto his chin.

‘Sorry, did I keep you awake?’ Lizzie asked. He disappeared again, and she heard him spitting in the sink, then the tap running. He returned, his face now free from white paste.

‘It doesn’t matter. Not like I don’t keep you up with my snoring is it?’ He smiled and walked over to the bed. ‘I guess it’s payback.’ He placed his hands on Lizzie’s shoulders and pushed her back onto the mattress, straddling her. He lifted her top and traced his tongue along her ribcage, around the edges of her dragonfly tattoo. She wasn’t in the mood, but it wasn’t Dom’s fault. She gave a playful squeal and wriggled beneath his body.

Lizzie hadn’t believed her luck when Dom had asked her out. Continued to disbelieve it as the years went on, but not only had he stayed with her, he’d asked her to marry him too. Despite Lizzie’s insistence she didn’t want children, he’d wanted to be with her. Told her he was going to spend his life with her – until they got old and died. Lifelong love, commitment, loyalty – they were alien concepts to Lizzie. The fact Dom promised all these things both thrilled and scared her. Why would he – should he – be any different to the others? But here they were, seventeen years later, still happy and in love.

She didn’t want anything to change that. Least of all the one person who’d messed up her life over thirty years ago.

And she couldn’t help but wonder how Dom would react if he found out about her past; the fact she’d kept things from him for all that time. Marriage is based on trust; secrecy is the enemy. She remembered those words as though he’d spoken them moments ago – they’d both repeated that mantra for the first few years, the rest of the time it was just something they’d assumed. Dom would feel betrayed if he knew.

‘Come on, you’ll be late for work.’ Lizzie pushed him away.

‘Okay.’ A flicker of concern crossed his face. ‘Anything on your mind?’ Dom tucked his shirt back into his suit trousers and straightened his tie. ‘Tough job coming up?’

‘No. Well, actually yes.’ There it was. Her get-out clause – she could say it was work-related. ‘I’ve got to cover a story – not one I’m keen on doing if I’m honest.’

‘Can’t another journo do it?’

‘In theory, yes. But I haven’t had much on lately – being freelance you kinda have to take what you can.’

‘What is it?’

‘You’re going to be late – I’ll tell you about it tonight.’

She hated herself, lying like that. She should just tell him the truth. Maybe she would later – instead of spinning him a story, she’d sit him down, open up. Finally. He would either accept that she hadn’t been able to talk about it before now, or not. It’d be better to have difficult discussions now, rather than have something come out at a later date and make him even more upset with her for hiding her past.

Dom is a good man. Dom will understand.

Feeling lighter now she’d made the decision to disclose everything later, Lizzie shot up from the bed and launched herself at Dom. He let out a surge of air as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his middle.

‘Steady on, girl. You’re not as light as you used to be,’ he said, staggering backwards.

‘Oh, get away with you.’

She kissed him as he pulled her in even tighter, pushing himself into her. He groaned.

‘Now, that would make me really late,’ he whispered. ‘Love you.’

‘And I love you,’ she said, lowering herself from him. ‘See you tonight, babe.’

The silence in the room once Dom left crushed her. She wouldn’t be working today.

Lizzie had to do something constructive; something to release the tension building in her gut. She needed to know where William Cawley was.

She had to find him, before he found her.

Chapter Six
1989
Bovey Police Station

Friday 21st July

‘So, missy, your mum tells me you saw something that might help us?’

The girl stared down at her trembling hands. She didn’t want to be in the dimly lit, stuffy station, she wanted to be back in her bedroom among her wall-to-wall posters of New Kids on The Block, singing along to her favourite songs on the stereo and dancing. She loved making up dance routines in her bedroom. It was what she’d wanted to do instead of going out. She should never have agreed to play that stupid game again – she should’ve listened to her mother.

She’d listened to her about going to the police, though. She owed it to her mum to do as she was told now. Even if it was too late. ‘You have to do it for your friend,’ she’d said over and over. ‘You need to do it for her.’

‘Yes …’ Her voice shook. She turned her pale face towards her mum, who gave an encouraging smile and a nudge with her elbow. ‘I saw …’

‘Take your time,’ the officer said. His wide eyes told her that he didn’t mean it. He was leaning forward, waiting like an impatient child who wanted their Christmas gift, and wanted it now. She took a deep breath and said the words in her head first; she wanted to get them right. Then she spoke out loud. ‘I saw him lift her up, into the truck. And then he got in too and screeched off down the road – the one going out of Mapledon. She … she shouldn’t have got in.’ The tears strangled her voice box and the words were high-pitched. ‘I don’t know why she got in. I don’t know why she left me.’

Chapter Seven
2019
Anna

Saturday 13th July

In keeping with the rest of the house, outside and in, Anna’s old bedroom had also remained unchanged. It was as though she’d stepped into a time warp and it unnerved her – especially in the dark shadows her old Pierrot lamp cast. The ancient springs in the single mattress did little to help: digging into her hip bones if she lay on her side; displacing her spine if she lay on her back. She hadn’t settled for hours. Now, as her body refused to bounce youth-like from the bed, she thought it went some way to explaining why her back was so prone to aches and pains now, as an adult. How had she ever put up with this? The floor would’ve given better comfort.

Not stopping to inspect any of her childhood belongings, Anna stretched – her spine giving a loud, satisfying crack – and gingerly made her way downstairs to the kitchen fridge. She needed coffee. Her stomach contracted as she sniffed the milk. She pulled the carton away from her nose with such force some of the putrid contents spilled over.

‘Oh, my God!’ She went quickly to the sink and turned on the tap. With her forearm pressed against her nostrils, she watched as the sour, lumpy liquid glugged down the plughole. Looking at the now empty carton she noted the use-by date was four days ago.

‘Mum, your milk is off!’ Anna shouted. She checked the fridge for fresh milk, but there was none. There wasn’t much of anything. She slammed the fridge door. No coffee to bring her to life first thing was tantamount to hell and she’d never make it through the day. The next hour even. Especially here.

‘Oh, sorry, love.’ Muriel came into the kitchen, her slippers scuffing over the lino. ‘Forgot to get a new carton.’

‘Forgot? But it’s been out of date for days – haven’t you been having cereal, or drinks?’

‘Oh, I just hadn’t got around to getting to the shop, been using the tin of Marvel I had in the cupboard for cups of tea.’

‘You’ve been using powdered milk instead of getting fresh? When did you last use Marvel? I didn’t even know they still made it.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear, of course they do.’

Anna was half-tempted to check the cupboard, see if the tin was also out of date, but was afraid she’d find that it was a decade out, not just days.

‘I’ll take you up the shop, then.’

‘Oh, you don’t need me, do you? You remember where it is, surely?’ Muriel slumped down onto the chair at the dining table.

‘You all right, Mum? You don’t look like you’ve slept.’

‘I look like this every morning. You wouldn’t know, would you?’

Anna let the comment slide; she couldn’t exactly argue otherwise.

‘Do you want to make me a list?’ Anna offered. It occurred to her that her mum might not be taking good enough care of herself – or certainly not eating well, going by her gaunt appearance. Guilt tugged at her conscience; she’d always assumed Muriel was okay living alone in Mapledon – she’d kept it together well after Anna’s father upped and left when she was just eleven. She was fit and healthy, had good friends. But Anna now wondered if that was what she’d wanted to think. It was easier to believe than the alternative. Anything to avoid coming back to this village.

‘Yes, that would be good, thank you.’ Muriel’s voice lifted; her face brightened.

‘When did you go out last?’ Anna frowned. Her mother’s reaction to her offer to go to the shop for her seemed far too enthusiastic. The doll’s head on the door was only yesterday – had other things been going on prior to that to cause her to fear leaving the house?

Muriel waved an arm dismissively. ‘Oh, I can’t remember – only a couple of days ago. Now, the notepad is in the top drawer of the dresser, love.’ Muriel pointed towards the lounge.

‘Right,’ Anna said.

While in the drawer retrieving the notepad, Anna had a rummage. She wasn’t sure what she was even looking for, but she had a niggling feeling. It was filled with old utility bills – thankfully none were red – and old letters. She picked up one of the yellowing envelopes. Black scrawling handwriting covered the front with little room left for the stamp. She squinted, trying to make out the postmark and date.

‘Got it?’ Muriel appeared in the doorway, her voice making Anna jump. She dropped the letter back in the drawer and slid it shut.

‘Yep. Got a pen?’ Anna straightened, hoping her mother hadn’t spotted her nosing through the drawer. Going back into the kitchen she gave Muriel the pad and waited for her to write the list. Her mum’s hands were shaky, the writing spiky and jagged. When she finished, Anna read it through to make sure she could decipher it.

‘Here you go.’ Muriel pushed a small, purple felt purse into Anna’s hand. ‘The cash is in there. Should be enough. Get yourself what you need too, won’t you?’

Anna squeezed the childish-looking purse. It didn’t feel very full. She swallowed down another surge of guilt, avoiding direct eye contact with her mother. For years she’d stayed away from here. From her mum. She’d had her reasons, but now she questioned them.

Sitting in the car, Anna checked the purse. A single five-pound note. The list Muriel had written would cost at least twenty; maybe her mind wasn’t as sharp as it once had been. She hoped it wasn’t anything serious, like dementia. It’s not like Anna would’ve noticed the early warning signs. She’d have to talk to Muriel’s neighbours, see if they had any concerns.

Before setting off, Anna made a phone call.

‘Hey, darling girl. Sorry not to have made it home last night. You okay at your dad’s?’

‘Why are you staying with Nanna? Are you coming home now?’ Her voice quivered.

This, together with Carrie’s avoidance of the question, made Anna’s heart beat harder. James was a good dad, she had never doubted that, but she knew Carrie got anxious when there was a change in her routine. She’d got used to staying with her dad every other weekend, knew what to expect and when. Clearly, she didn’t care for this current disruption.

‘Nanna’s not feeling too good at the moment and needs a little bit of help. I’m going to stay the weekend, but don’t worry – try and enjoy the time with Daddy. What have you two got planned?’

There was a small sigh, then some rustling.

‘Hi, Anna.’

James had obviously been in earshot and taken over the call.

‘Is she all right? She sounds upset with me.’

‘She’s fine, really. You know what she’s like. I’ve got the cinema booked for later – she’ll forget about you abandoning her then.’

‘Really? God, James, you know I wouldn’t have asked you to have her unless it was important!’

‘Yeah, sorry. I know. Anyway, what was so urgent you had to actually go to Mapledon? Didn’t think anything would drag you back there.’

‘I’m not sure what’s going on, actually. I think Mum might be going a bit senile.’

‘Oh, fantastic. Are you sure? What makes you think that?’

‘A few things, but I haven’t got time to talk now really. I have to go to the shop. Look, I think I’m going to be here all weekend. Are you happy to keep Carrie?’

‘Of course. No problem. Stay as long as you need.’

‘Thanks, James. I appreciate it. Not that I want to be here for a second longer than absolutely necessary.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘Take care there, Anna.’

Coldness spread its icy branches inside her; his words triggering old anxiety, old memories. The ones she didn’t want to let in.

Keeping her gaze forward, Anna walked into Brook Cottage Store – Mapledon’s only shop. Immediately, she was transported back to her childhood. How on earth had it stayed virtually the same for all these years? Anna walked past the pick-and-mix shelves – memories of filling a brown paper bag with penny sweets sweeping through her mind – and headed for the fridges. She quickly moved along the aisles, cramming stuff in her basket as she went. She didn’t want to be in the shop for too long. The longer she was there, the more likely someone might recognise her; stop her and ask unwanted questions.

Anna heard more voices now, the shop suddenly filling up. She checked her phone for the time. Nine a.m. Damn, she hadn’t timed her visit well – the villagers of Mapledon were beginning their day. After checking her mother’s list one last time, Anna popped in a jar of coffee and headed for the checkout. There were two counters with tills. That was different. Back when she was a child, there’d been just the one till and the owner of the shop, Nell Andrews, was always the one behind it. Now it seemed she’d upgraded, although it appeared only the one till was currently in use. Anna assumed Nell must’ve retired. That was something at least. The person serving was probably younger, new. Wouldn’t know who Anna was.

There were several people ahead of her in the queue. Sweat formed on her upper lip. Be quick, hurry up. She tried to keep her head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. She might well know these people, but she wasn’t interested in them, their lives – wasn’t interested in ‘catching up’ with any of their news. She could hear the low murmur of conversation in front of her. Two women in the line were turned towards each other, baskets touching as they spoke. Anna could hear their supposed hushed chatter.

‘Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see the day.’

‘Everyone is horrified, Ali. The whole village is in shock.’

Anna turned her head, one ear towards the gossiping couple.

‘Her poor mother, though. How the hell must she feel?’

Anna’s heart hammered against her ribs, a sudden sensation of falling overcoming her. She popped her basket on the floor and put her hand on the bread stand to steady herself.

‘Oh, I know. I really feel for them. But surely he won’t come back here?’

‘I don’t think the villagers would allow it. And anyway, there’s nothing for him here.’

‘But what if we see him? Can you imagine if he were to walk into this shop now, or he moved back into that bungalow? It has been standing empty all these years.’

The queue surged forwards and the women stopped talking as they were served. Anna’s saliva had dried, her mouth moistureless. The women could be talking about anyone. Twenty years of things Anna had no clue about had gone on in this village. The likelihood they were talking about that particular event was slim, she convinced herself.

Until she reached the till.

At the side of the counter was the newspaper rack. The same position it had always been. Her eyes were drawn to the headline of the Herald Express.

MAPLEDON MURDERER RELEASED.

The noises in the shop faded. All Anna could see was the newspaper, the bold capital letters boring into her brain.

‘Everyone’s up in arms about it. The whole village.’ A male voice finally penetrated her thoughts.

‘When?’ Anna’s single word was strangled with fear.

‘Four days ago,’ the man said, taking the items from Anna’s basket and scanning them. ‘No one’s spotted him, yet. Mind you, I guess no one knows what he looks like now. But he wouldn’t dare come back here. Mum said he’d be a fool to. She wouldn’t serve him, she said.’

Anna didn’t respond at first, her thoughts crashing against each other, tumbling in her head. She fumbled in her purse and paid for the shopping with her debit card. Looking properly at the man behind the counter, she realised he was Nell Andrews’ son, Robert – his hair had receded, and his face was thinner than she remembered.

‘Has your mum retired?’ Anna asked, not because she was interested, more because she wanted to take a minute or two to recover before attempting to walk out of the shop.

‘God, no. She’ll be here until the end of time. I’ve just been covering – she’s a bit under the weather at the moment. She’ll be back!’ The man gave a wide grin. Anna assumed he hadn’t recognised her and was grateful for this good fortune – a ‘wow, it’s been years’ conversation wasn’t one she wanted now. Or ever. She thanked him and left, his words echoing in her mind: ‘Four days ago. No one’s spotted him yet.’

Four days ago. The same period of time her mother hadn’t left the house.

The vision of Muriel’s front door swam in front of her eyes.

And the doll’s head hammered to it, its relevance now achingly obvious.