the dead – and he wasn’t afraid of them. No one bothered him
there. He’d left Eliza tucked up in bed; he always made sure she
was asleep before he locked her in.
Billy let out a wail, swiping at the head of the roses he’d
placed there a few days ago. He was too young for this to be his
life – for it to be over before it had properly begun. He was
pissed off that he’d been dealt these shitty cards. Eliza had been an accident – a moment of uncontrollable lust between two
teenagers. Then, later, he’d done what he thought was right –
married Rosie. From that moment on he’d had to work like a
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dog to get the money to support them all. He’d been lucky, if he could call it that, that his father had died not long after they’d got hitched at Gretna Green. The money he’d left Billy in his
will was substantial. He could’ve started his own business with
that money, but instead he bought the bungalow in Mapledon
and settled for getting the odd carpentry job here and there.
Biggest mistake of his life. He’d never had the chance to attain
any of his goals, never had the opportunity to be someone. Apart from the ‘Village Weirdo’. He’d managed that all right. He let
his head loll back, his gaze travelling over the glittering night sky, wondering if Rosie were one of the brightest stars. Then
the stars seemed to fade, and blackness replaced them. He felt
the weight of the dark pressing against his skin, then lowering
further and entering him. As it often did.
‘Eliza is all I’ve got, Rosie,’ he said, placing both hands on
the ground that was mere feet above his dead wife. ‘But she’s
not all I need. I have needs too – who sees to those now you’re gone, eh?’ He’d tried to suppress his desires, drank them into
oblivion – but he couldn’t simply put them aside. They kept
resurfacing whether he wanted them to or not. He required an
outlet, a way of expressing his thoughts, feelings of hurt, anger, frustration and sexual desire.
He realised now he was never going to have that in this village.
Mapledon was not only small in area, it was small-minded
too. And they’d made their minds up about Billy Cawley. He
wouldn’t change them now. But he had no means of leaving.
He could sell the bungalow – but he’d also be getting rid of the memories, of what lay beneath. He wasn’t ready to do that.
There had to be another way.
‘I need help, Rosie. Help for me and help for Eliza. She’s not right. And the more I do for her, the worse she seems to get.
I’ve tried to be everything to her, told her she only needs me,
not the vile kids in this place. I’m striving to make her stronger, you know? She has to be hardened in order to survive. The other
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kids are mean to her, but she doesn’t see it; she’s too innocent.
She tries to be friends with them. I keep telling her she’s different to them; they’ll never accept her. She doesn’t help herself, what with the way she destroys those dolls. It’s unnerving. I caught
her doing really . . . really, odd things to Polly, the doll you gave her – the only one she hasn’t de-limbed. She looked so guilty
when she saw me watching her. And then today she seemed
distant. I think it’s to do with those God Freaks.’
Billy involuntarily looked over his shoulder towards the
church. ‘ They are putting stuff into her head!’ he spat. He turned back to Rosie, lowering his voice. ‘When she came back from
Sunday school earlier, she wouldn’t even look at me. Didn’t
speak a word or come near me for hours. Just sat in the garden,
pulling her dolls to bits. Then, when she did finally come in, I
tried to put her in her nightie for bedtime and she smacked my
hand away, like she was telling me off. She said, “It’s wrong to
touch, Daddy.” And she told me to leave her room. She’s never
done that before. They are saying things to her, I know it.’ Billy pushed himself up from his kneeling position.
‘I need to keep her away from them, Rosie. This village and
its people are poison.’
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Chapter Forty-Three
2019
Anna
Monday 15th July
They’d left the village hall not long after the revelation that Lizzie was Eliza, the daughter of murderer Billy Cawley. Lizzie offered
them a lift home, which Anna accepted. She felt zapped of energy
and didn’t relish the thought of the walk back anyway. The shock
hadn’t abated; Anna still felt numbed by it. She wasn’t sure why, because none of what had happened had been Lizzie’s fault. She’d
She couldn’t even remember much about Eliza Cawley: what
she looked like, or what she did – but she did recall the rumours for some reason. Or maybe she’d grown up hearing about the
day social services had taken her from the bungalow. Her only
memories of Eliza were related to her and Jonie talking about Eliza – about what she used to do to her dolls and seeing the
bits strewn haphazardly in the yard of the bungalow after the
girl had gone. And what with a major piece of evidence having
come from Anna herself about seeing Jonie getting into the truck
with one of Eliza’s doll’s heads on it, she supposed that was the sum of what she knew.
Thinking about it now, Anna wondered if it were that piece
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of evidence Billy Cawley had focused on all these years. Obsessed about, maybe. If Anna hadn’t informed the police she’d seen
him, had watched as Jonie climbed in beside him in the cab,
maybe the jury wouldn’t have convicted him. Was that why her
mother’s house was being targeted now? Because it was Anna’s
childhood home?
The police still had the necklace they’d found in Billy’s
bungalow, though, she reminded herself. Jonie’s. Auntie Tina
had identified it. So even without Anna’s witness statement, they likely would’ve found him guilty. Wouldn’t they?
If it were hers and Tina’s statements that ultimately led the
jury to believe he was guilty, maybe that was why they were the
ones who’d received the dolls’s heads on their front doors. Was
Muriel right to suspect Lizzie? But surely now her father had
been released there was no need to seek any kind of vengeance.
Years had gone by, why would Lizzie want to do something like
that now?
Unless she was doing it for Billy. He had restrictions; his daughter did not. She could be doing it for him, for his revenge.
‘You’re quiet, Anna,’ Lizzie said.
‘Mind is elsewhere, sorry.’ Anna kept her gaze to her left, out
the passenger window. Her mum’s road was approaching. She
opened her mouth to direct Lizzie, but stopped short. Lizzie
had already taken the right turning and was driving up the road.
Next left was Muriel’s. Lizzie indicated and turned in, coming
to a stop right outside Muriel’s house. Anna
swivelled a bit in
her seat so she could face Lizzie.
‘Thank you for the lift back,’ she said, her eyes locked on to
Lizzie’s.
‘It’s fine. Thank you for not making a big deal about who I
am.’ She smiled, but seemed guarded. ‘Maybe we could chat
later? I could come and get you.’ She leant into the passenger
footwell and retrieved her phone from her bag. ‘What’s your
number so I can let you know when I’m on my way?’
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Anna’s instincts were telling her to say no. Not to get involved.
‘Sure,’ she found herself saying before rattling off her mobile
number. Lizzie immediately rang it.
‘Great. And now you have mine,’ Lizzie said, smiling.
It seemed she never could learn – ignoring her gut instincts
had done her no favours in the past, yet here she was again,
leaping in blindly, going against her body’s self-preservation
impulse.
‘I don’t think so,’ Muriel piped up from the back seat.
Anna got out of the car and opened her mother’s car door.
‘Mum. It’s fine, come on, let’s go inside.’ She spoke in her firm, don’t-mess-with-me-voice in the hope Muriel would get the
message and leave it. ‘Nothing will happen while I’ve gone.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Let’s go in and get a cuppa, shall we?’
‘We’ve just had one!’
Anna screwed her eyes up and took a slow, deep breath. Why
was she suddenly being so awkward?
‘Actually, why don’t you take your mum in, make sure she’s
all right and come back to Bulleigh Barton with me now? We
could have lunch in the garden. Save you coming out again
later?’ Lizzie suggested. Maybe she, too, was becoming impatient
with Muriel’s behaviour.
‘If you can wait here for five, I’ll come back and let you know.’
Anna ducked her head back inside the car and gave Muriel’s
arm a gentle tug. She finally, but slowly, climbed out of the back seat.
‘What has got into you, Mum?’ Anna hissed as she opened
the front door and did a quick check of the floor to make sure
there’d been no other deliveries.
‘I don’t trust her. ’ Muriel jabbed a finger towards the waiting car.
‘I know.’ Anna ushered Muriel further inside. ‘Look, you
might be right not to trust her. She just drove straight to your
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door without asking for directions. I mean, I know Mapledon is pretty small, and she did walk this way with me on Saturday, but we were still a few roads away. How did she know exactly
where you lived?’
‘Because she’s been here before,’ Muriel said, her eyes fixed
on a point beyond Anna.
‘Exactly. So maybe she is the one hammering dolls’ heads to doors. When she was a child, she was always tearing those dolls
to bits. It makes sense it’s her doing it now.’
‘And you want to go and have lunch with her?’
‘I thought it would be a good opportunity to dig a bit deeper.’
‘I don’t really like the idea of being left here alone, Anna.’
‘Pop next door and have a catch-up with Sandie. It would be
a perfect opportunity to ask her if she’s had anything strange
happen, seen anything or anyone unusual. And anyway, if we’re
right, nothing will happen while I’m with Lizzie, will it?’
‘Fine. Be careful, though, Anna,’ Muriel said, her eyebrows
raised. ‘Sometimes when you go digging you unearth things
you’re not looking for.’
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Chapter Forty-Four
2019
Lizzie
The short drive to Bulleigh Barton passed in relative silence,
Lizzie struggling to gauge how Anna was taking the news of
her being Billy’s daughter, Eliza Cawley. She’d spent a lifetime
pretending she was someone else – who would want to be
the daughter of a child killer? Why couldn’t her dad have
been like the other kids’ dads? Someone who blended in,
rather than sticking out like a sore thumb. But no. He’d lost
his way in life; lost his ability to work. Had turned instead
to some dark side that Lizzie couldn’t, and didn’t want to
understand. How do supposedly normal people carry out
such hideous crimes? How do they hide their real selves from
everyone else? But then, she had kept a part of herself hidden for most of her life. Maybe that’s just what her dad had done
too.
She couldn’t remember living with him, either before her
mother had died or afterwards. Her brain had done a good
job blocking the unwanted childhood memories. Which is
why she needed help now to unblock them. To finally move
forwards, she had to cleanse herself. She had to exorcise
William Cawley once and for all. She’d got Rob onside,
although he might well back off once he found out she’d lied,
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and she had Anna. Together they might be able to piece the jigsaw together.
‘Well, hello. I see you’ve brought a guest,’ Gwen said as they
walked into the house, her Irish accent washing over Lizzie like
warm water. There was something soothing about her voice.
Kind, honest. ‘Did you two want some lunch in the sunshine?
I could set you up on the picnic table beside the pool if you
like?’
‘Thanks, Gwen, that’d be perfect. I’ll pay for the extra lunch,
of course.’
‘Ooh, no, not at all. It’s my pleasure. What can I get you – I
have baguettes with various fillings, or salads, some sandwiches
perhaps?’
‘A ham baguette with some salad would be lovely, thank you,’
Lizzie said.
‘The same, thank you. No onion though.’
Gwen gave a nod. ‘I’ll pop it out the back in ten minutes or
so,’ she said, before disappearing into the kitchen. Lizzie led
Anna to the back of the house, out through the patio doors and
onto the decking area.
‘It really is a beautiful B&B, Anna. Thanks for the heads-up.’
‘That’s okay. It’s not like there was much of a choice though,
eh? It is lovely, though, and Gwen seems to be a fab host.’
‘Don’t you know her?’
‘No. This place had different owners when I left Mapledon.
It belonged to the Timothy family then. Their son went to my . . .
our . . . primary school. He was a bit, well, strange.’
‘Even more so than me? I find that hard to believe. By all
accounts my head spun and I threw up green vomit and
everything.’
Anna laughed, which acted as an ice-breaker. Even though
Lizzie had felt a connection to Anna when they’d met at the
church gate, since her ‘unmasking’ today, Anna had been very
off with her. Understandably.
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‘Do you remember anyone from Mapledon school?’ Anna asked as she sat down at the wooden picnic table. Lizzie swung
her legs over the opposite bench, so they were facing each
other.
‘It’s difficult to explain. I don’t think I remember people per se; I feel certain connections instead – I thought I felt that when we first met, for example. It’s like, I know I knew them, but
can’t locate any specific memories concerning them. I didn’t
recognise any of the houses as I drove up the main street on
my first day here, but when we were walking and I saw the
primary school, a jolt, like an electric shock almost, hit me. I
knew the place. But I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about what it looks like inside, or even give you names of other kids
or teachers.’
‘I suppose when I left I was eighteen, so my childhood memo-
ries had been talked about, reinforced by sharing them with
other village kids, my mum, and to a lesser extent my dad.
Because you left at eight, didn’t even get to go to comprehensive school with the village kids, too many other significant memories must have come after and replaced them – or overlaid them.
Perhaps the more you talk to people in Mapledon, the more
things you might recall.’
‘I guess that was my hope. That and to find out more about
him. There’s unfinished business for me, as you can imagine.
It’s like there’s a thousand-piece puzzle that needs to be put
together to answer the questions I didn’t even realise I wanted
answered until I read the release letter.’
Gwen stepped out from the patio doors with a tray and headed
to where Lizzie and Anna were sitting.
‘Here we go, ladies.’ She put the plates in front of them and
placed a basket of condiments in the centre of the wooden table.
‘What would you like to drink?’
After they’d told Gwen what they wanted and she’d disap-
peared back inside, Anna spoke.
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‘I don’t think the villagers will make that easy, Lizzie. I have a feeling you’ll get so far, but be unable to complete that puzzle without the bits they’ve been hiding for thirty years. And I doubt if some of them even remember what, or where, those missing
pieces are.’
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