Anna faffed about with the coffee and mugs, trying to busy
herself until the awkward first comments were done with.
‘Surprised me, that’s all – I assumed you’d be the first to be
gossiping at the shop, not avoiding everyone.’
‘I’m not avoiding anyone. I’ve been a bit under the weather,
that’s all.’ Muriel’s tone was defensive.
‘Ah. Yes. I noted Nell was “under the weather” too,’ Tina said,
repeating Muriel’s words while making air quotes with her
fingers. ‘Must be catching.’
Anna wasn’t sure of the relevance of Tina’s observation, but
something was passing between the two of them that Anna
wasn’t privy to.
‘Here we go,’ Anna said as she placed a mug in front of Tina.
‘Biscuits?’
‘No, thanks. I might choke.’
Anna bit her lip. She may not know exactly what had gone
down, what had caused this frostiness, this animosity, but she
was close to telling them both to grow the fuck up.
‘Why are you here, Tina?’ Finally, her mother had voiced the
question burning in Anna’s throat.
‘Obvious, isn’t it?’
‘I do remember the anniversary. I do every year.’
‘This one is particularly significant though, wouldn’t you
agree?’
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‘Because of him?’
Tina sipped her coffee, then banged the mug down. ‘He’s
out. He’s free. He’s back.’
A shiver travelled the length of Anna’s spine and the way
Muriel’s face had lost all its colour indicated she’d had a similar reaction.
‘What makes you think he’s back?’
‘No need to be coy, Muriel. I know you’ve had one too.’
So, Tina had received a similar macabre message hammered
to her door. Were they the only ones?
Anna stared at Muriel, watching as she struggled to look Tina
in the eye.
‘Yes, Auntie Tina. She had one. Two now, in fact.’
Tina’s mouth gaped. ‘When?’
Muriel lifted her head. ‘First one was Friday. Second was this
morning. You?’
‘Just the one. Friday. But I imagine there’ll be more to come.’
‘I think you might be jumping to conclusions, Auntie Tina.
Mum thinks it’s probably teenagers with nothing better to do.
I mean, why would Billy be doing this? It doesn’t make sense
– surely he’ll just land himself back in prison.’ Anna joined them at the table, her questioning gaze darting from her mother to
Auntie Tina.
‘After all that time locked up, perhaps he can’t handle being
out – back in the real world. He might want to be put back inside,’ Tina said. ‘Or . . .’ Auntie Tina ran her fingers through her thinning hair. ‘His desire for revenge outweighs the risks.’
‘Revenge? For what? He’s the one who committed murder!’
Anna shouted. ‘And it’s deplorable that he never disclosed where
he hid poor—’ Anna stopped, aware her angry outburst might
not be appropriate for the mother of the victim to hear.
‘Oh, Bella. Your naivety is less endearing now you’re an adult.’
‘I told you, it’s Anna now.’ The huffy tone made her sound
childish, which angered her even more than Tina’s snide
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comment. She’d not been that innocent. And besides, she’d only been ten years’ old when all of this happened – how was she
supposed to remember everything, understand all the details
and subtleties surrounding the events?
‘Sorry, Anna. All I’m saying is Billy Cawley felt wronged by the people in Mapledon. For numerous reasons.’
Anna was going to ask what the specific reasons were, but
got the feeling she might not be told the truth. Or even whether
she really wanted to know.
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Chapter Thirty-Two
2019
Lizzie
Lizzie had arrived at the pub ten minutes early. She was now
sitting waiting on the wooden bench at the bus stop opposite
the building, trying to appear inconspicuous. She’d left the car
near the church again and walked, thinking she’d draw less
attention to herself – but now, as she felt eyes on her, Lizzie
wondered if that plan had failed.
Two men in their late fifties, she approximated, were sitting
at a table in the small, gravelled area beside the entrance of The Plough. They were nursing pints, and each had a cigarette
between their fingers – plumes of smoke curling above their
heads. Their eyes turned towards her several times as they spoke, their deep voices drifting across the road, but Lizzie couldn’t
make out what they were talking about or if their topic of
conversation was ‘the stranger on the bench’.
As she considered getting up, crossing over, and entering the
pub just to stop the curious glances, she caught sight of Robert.
He was exiting the side alley to the right of the pub, one that
also ran alongside Brook Cottage Store. It was good she’d been
able to identify another villager who’d previously just been a
name in an article – finding out he was the son of ‘family friend’
Nell Andrews had been very helpful prior to this meeting. She
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stood, and began walking to meet him, relieved she’d no longer be alone.
‘Hi, Rob,’ she said, deciding in that moment he was more of
a Rob than a Bob, or a Bobby. He was dressed casually – jeans
and a short-sleeved shirt. His hair was slick with gel, which only served to accentuate his receding hairline, but he was attractive in a boy-next-door kind of way.
‘Wasn’t sure you’d show,’ he said in return.
Lizzie raised her eyebrows, questionably – uncertain what he
meant.
Rob smiled. ‘I thought you might have been joking there in
the shop, asking to meet at the pub.’
‘Oh. I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t meant it. Why would
you think that?’
‘Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean,’ he said,
shrugging.
‘Oh, dear. That sounds as though you have prior experience.’
‘Well, yes – it’s been known. But it’s been more usual for me
to ask someone out, not the other way around. I think some
just said yes to get out of the awkward situation and then left
me hanging. Although, it’s not like there are many ladies in
Mapledon who are eligible and in the right age bracket. The pickings are very slim in the first place . . .’
‘I see. So, that makes me feel real special.’
‘Oh, my God. I didn’t mean that to sound . . . you don’t live
here – I don’t mean you,’ he said, flustered.
Lizzie gave him a gentle knock in the shoulder with her fist
to indicate she was teasing him. But then had a surge of panic.
She was acting as though she was keen on him, wanted to be special. Christ, she was only meant to be charming him in order
to get information, not coming across as wanting more than
just a drink. She’d have to rein it in. Maybe mention her husband, quickly, before she led this poor guy on. He seemed nice enough;
she didn’t want to be that disingenuous.
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‘Anyway, you caught me on a good day. I was feeling generous, so turned up,’ she said.
‘Oh great. First round’s on you, then.’ He grinned, then
swung the door open, standing back to allow Lizzie to walk in
first. She ducked under his arm and entered what she could
only describe as a dingy dive. The place probably looked the
same now as it had thirty years ago. And, after a quick glance
around the small bar area, she reckoned the few punters were
likely the same ones who drank there thirty years ago too.
Now, as it’d been then, it was the only watering hole for about
ten miles. For a second, she wondered if any of these people
were Billy Cawley, but then dismissed the idea – if he was back,
she couldn’t imagine the locals would allow him to drink in
their pub.
‘All right, Dave,’ Rob said as he approached the bar. ‘Pint of
Hunters Premium, please, mate. And . . .’ He held his hand,
palm up towards Lizzie. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh, erm . . . gin and slimline tonic, please.’ Lizzie smiled at
Dave, who didn’t return the gesture. She already felt uncom-
fortable being there. ‘I’ll just go and sit down, then.’ She walked to the table farthest from the bar and the other drinkers – which, she realised, wasn’t far enough. She could hear them talking and
caught ‘bloody outsider’, and ‘no doubt after a story’ and sank
a little lower in the chair. She knew it would be this way, but
that didn’t make it any less awkward. Lizzie got the impression
she wasn’t going to be winning friends anytime soon. In a
moment of madness, she almost shouted, ‘Don’t you know who
I am?’ She was damned sure they’d be all interested if they
realised. Interested, or angry. Probably neither was an outcome
she really wished for. Best to bite her tongue and take the hostility on the chin.
‘There you go, Lizzie. I got him to jazz it up a bit.’ He smiled, indicating the glass. Lizzie gave him a frown in return. Rob,
obviously realising she didn’t have a clue what he was referring
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to, added: ‘Ice and a slice? Plus a straw. As jazzed up as it gets here,’ as way of explanation.
‘Oh, I was rather expecting an umbrella.’
‘Really? I can—’
‘I was joking, Rob.’
‘Oh. Sorry. City humour . . . guess I’m not used to it.’
Lizzie shook her head mockingly. They sipped at their drinks
for a while without speaking. Her mind was working overtime
to formulate the questions she wanted to ask him in a non-threat-
ening way. She needed to frame them so Rob thought she were
merely curious to find out what had happened in her absence,
rather than grilling him as though it were the sole purpose for
meeting him. A blush travelled up her neck. For the first time
ever, she felt ashamed for using someone in this way.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, how come you’re spending
what precious little time you have before you jet off abroad here with me, when you came to spend it with Muriel and Bella?’
Rob asked, breaking the silence.
Lizzie hesitated. Bella must be Muriel’s daughter – she’d told
Rob she was there to see her cousin before she mentioned her
‘Auntie’ Muriel and, as he knew them, he’d put two and two
together. That was helpful.
‘Well, I’ve got tomorrow still. Maybe even the Tuesday; it all
depends.’
‘Oh? On what?’ His smile reached his grey-green eyes and
they twinkled, even in the dull room. She averted her gaze,
realising she was making the whole situation more complicated.
He was openly flirting with her and she was allowing it. Worse,
encouraging it. God, if Dom could see this.
‘Depends how desperate I am to escape from Mapledon.’
‘Right.’ For a moment he looked hurt, like he’d taken her
statement as a personal insult, but then his face relaxed again,
and he leant across the table, his upper body close to hers. ‘I
get that,’ he said in a hushed voice. He turned his head to look
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around him before carrying on in his whispered tone. ‘You were lucky to escape the first time, really. In fact, I’m surprised you considered visiting again, however fleeting. Just in case.’
Lizzie’s blood ran cold. ‘You’re not the first person to say
something like that.’ She pulled back from him slightly. It wasn’t a normal thing for people to say, and yet both people she’d met
had given the same creepy warning. Or what felt like a warning.
She couldn’t dismiss the possibility of it being a thinly veiled
threat. Stay too long and you’ll never leave, or maybe dig deep enough and you’ll unearth secrets that could get you killed. She was over-exaggerating now, her mind galloping. She should get
a grip. They’d only been joking. Hadn’t they? Whatever the
reason for Anna’s and Rob’s flippant comments, Lizzie was
feeling more anxious with each ‘joke’.
She wondered who’d be next to suggest she leave Mapledon
while she still could.
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Chapter Thirty-Three
1989
Mapledon Church
Sunday 2nd July – 17 days before
‘Right now, Muriel?’ Reverend Farnley’s brow furrowed as he
laid the book he’d been reading to the children on his lap. The
group of three girls and two boys stared up from their sitting
position on the rug in the corner, quietly waiting for the story
to resume. ‘I’m in the middle of telling the story of Noah.’
‘Sorry, but I don’t think this should wait,’ Muriel said, her
eyes travelling to the floor where Eliza Cawley was sitting, her
body turned away from the rest of the group, then back to
Reverend Farnley.
‘Oh, well, then. Give me a second and I’ll see you in the
vestry.’ He stood, then beckoned to Wendy, one of the other
Sunday school helpers, to come and take over from him. He
strode to the vestry.
‘What is the matter, Muriel?’
‘Well, as you are . . . aware . . .’ Muriel gave him a knowing look ‘… something isn’t quite right with little Eliza Cawley. I
need to ask for your guidance. His guidance, Reverend Farnley.’
‘I see. What is it that has concerned you now?’
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‘It’s the very sensitive matter we touched upon before. It’s not something that can be ignored any longer.’
‘Go on, Muriel. I will need the full facts, though.’ He raised
his eyebrows.
‘She’s a strange child—’
‘There are no strange children, Muriel. Only troubled ones.’
Muriel shook her head impatiently. ‘Yes, well, troubled then.
In any case, I’ve been keeping an eye on her behaviour: the way
she doesn’t, or can’t, interact with the other children her age,
the things she says, the things she plays with – and giving me
the most concern, the way she plays with things – is not normal.’
‘Have you spoken with Eliza since our last discussion?’
‘You mean, have I asked direct questions about her home life?’
‘I mean, have you asked her anything at all about this?’
‘I have, yes.’
Reverend Farnley shuffled his feet; his face became solemn.
‘And?’
‘I think there is abuse, Reverend,’ she whispered.
Reverend Farnley took a step back, his face blanching. ‘Right,
I see. That accusation cannot be made lightly, Muriel, and not
without evidence. I thought we’d spoken of this.’
‘I think there is evidence. I just need your help to ensure she’s safe.’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Everyone knows Billy Cawley isn’t going to win a father-of-
the-year award, and no child has ever been allowed to go and
play after school with Eliza. He keeps her to himself – I’m
surprised he allows her to come to Sunday school, but then I
think that was due to your encouragement, was it not?’
‘Yes, I did work rather hard to get her included,’ he said,
running his fingers along the edge of his smooth chin.
‘There are bruises on that girl—’
‘All children of her age get bruises from playing, Muriel. That
in itself doesn’t mean anything.’
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‘It does when the bruises are on her wrists, as though she’s been restrained.’
‘I’m worried we’re jumping to conclusions here.’
‘I asked her earlier about why she pulls the heads and limbs
off her dolls. And do you know what she said?’
‘Go on.’
‘She said it makes her feel better if the dolls suffer too. She
doesn’t feel as alone. How terrible is that?’
‘I agree that is very troubling. We should keep a closer eye
on her.’
‘No. We should do more than that. We need to make sure he
can’t hurt her.’
‘How?’
‘We’ve already got it planned and I’ve been able to put some