tilting, the writing faded. It shouldn’t take too long to find
Rosie’s. She read the names of those she could decipher as she
moved around. None of them caused a memory to stir. Until
one; the name on it making Lizzie’s blood chill in her veins.
Jonie Hayes.
One of the three names she did remember.
She hurried on past it, not wishing to linger. Not wanting to
‘go there’ yet. It was too early – she wasn’t ready. One step at a time.
The air seemed to still as she approached the grey, granite
headstone that bore her mother’s name. Lizzie crouched beside
her mum, eyes tightly squeezed, trying desperately to remember
something. Anything about her mother. Nothing came to her.
It could be because she was trying to force it – if she relaxed,
didn’t try so hard, something might come.
For the moment, she could only recall a snippet of one
memory.
The day her mum gave her Polly.
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Chapter Eighteen
1989
Mapledon
Tuesday 18th July – the day before
‘Be back for lunch, Bella. And no going near Blackstone Close,
you hear me?’
Her mother’s shrill voice followed Bella out of the house. She
called back over her shoulder, ‘No, Mum. I won’t!’ rolling her
eyes towards Jonie to prove she thought her mother’s warning
was something she found annoying. She didn’t. She really wanted
to do as her mum told her – going to Blackstone Close made
her skin creep.
Of course, they would end up there, though. They usually did
– even during term-time. Now they’d broken up from school,
she knew it’d be where Jonie would want to go for the next six
weeks. Jonie put up her usual convincing argument so they’d do
what she wanted them to do. Said that it was more fun to goad Creepy Cawley than to waste the summer staying in playing stupid
Barbie or watching TV. Bella had failed to impress her friend with her entertainment ideas. She’d wanted to make up some dance
routines – ones like they’d been doing in PE at school. Miss
Hanson had told Bella that she had “flair”, whatever that meant.
But she knew it was good. She didn’t receive many compliments,
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so this was something she’d taken on board and wanted to build on during the holiday. She, Bella, was actually good at something.
‘Come on, then. I’ve found a way through the back of the
close, so he won’t see us coming,’ Jonie said, her eyes wide with excitement. Bella forced a smile. She didn’t get why Jonie thought it was so thrilling to knock on someone’s door and run away.
It was childish. And pretty stupid. She couldn’t tell Jonie that, though.
A few minutes later, they were squeezing through a small gap
at the bottom of some bushes at the back of Blackstone Close.
Jonie got through first and helped drag Bella through. The twigs
scraped at her bare legs.
‘Ouch! Mind.’
‘Shh, Bella. Someone will hear us.’ Jonie looked down at
Bella’s legs and tutted.
Bella rubbed at them. If she ripped her shorts, her mum
would be mad. She hoped they wouldn’t go back through the
bushes when they were done.
They crouched down, across from the bungalow.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Bella asked, wishing she were
anywhere but there.
‘Well, we need to make sure he isn’t watching before we go
in, don’t we?’ Jonie shook her head. She had a way of making
Bella feel stupid, shutting down anything she said immediately.
‘Yes, course,’ Bella said, as though she knew that.
Bella stared at Creepy Cawley’s bungalow, silently praying he
wasn’t in. But his truck was in the driveway, so he probably was.
Her stomach churned, a thousand butterflies flitting around
inside it. Her legs began to cramp in their crouching position.
She was too afraid to tell Jonie; she’d have to put up with the
pain.
It was weird. But then, that was why he’d got the nickname Creepy Cawley. That, and the way he looked: his straggly long
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hair, dirty clothes, dead-looking black eyes that stared right through you. Bella shuddered.
‘Yeah, why doesn’t he tidy it all up?’
‘Mum says it’s because he’s lost everything. She says he can’t
be bothered with himself, or the bungalow, anymore.’
‘My mum said it was because he was a pee-da-something.
That he lured kids there and did bad stuff to them.’ Bella swal-
lowed hard. ‘Which is why we shouldn’t be here, Jonie. It’s
dangerous.’ She’d said it in no more than a whisper – not wanting to go against what Jonie wanted. But she had to say something.
She didn’t want to do this.
‘Nah – your mum doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s
not dangerous. It’s funny! Everyone does it. I heard Adam telling Nicky at school that him and John had knocked on his door
dozens of times, and the worst that happened is Creepy Cawley
chased them.’
‘Oh.’ Bella thought that was bad. Adam and John were quick, Bella was not – she always came last in the sprint races at school.
What if he chased after them and caught them? What then?
‘Right, I think it’s clear. Let’s go.’ Jonie was up and running
across to the bungalow.
Bella watched as Jonie ducked behind the dustbin just inside
Creepy Cawley’s driveway. She frantically waved an arm towards
Bella.
If she thought this was it – the only time they’d do this –
she’d feel a bit better. She’d even be okay about it if they
actually knocked on someone else’s door for a change. But Jonie had already told her they’d have to come again tomorrow, so
they both had a turn at knocking on his door. It was only fair,
Jonie had said.
Being Jonie’s friend was hard work, Bella thought, before
taking a deep breath and following – just as she always did.
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Chapter Nineteen
2019
Anna
Saturday 13th July
The two of them fell into an awkward silence, both standing
motionless outside Billy Cawley’s run-down bungalow, neither
looking the other in the eye. Anna lowered her chin, balling her
hands up inside her hoody pockets. They’d all been so close,
once. Muriel and Tina were best friends – they’d both been
young mothers, as were their mothers before them, so they had
a lot in common. That’s why Anna had always called her ‘Auntie’
Tina. It was a thing they did back then – the mothers’ good
friends were always known to their kids’ friends as Auntie. It
was inevitable Anna and Jonie would also be best friends.
Obvious to the mothers, anyway. In reality, they weren�
�t destined to be close. They’d been too different: the balance was never
right. But as their parents spent so much time together, they’d
both taken it as something that just had to be.
‘I haven’t seen Muriel out and about in a while. She well?’
Tina broke the silence first.
Anna gave a shrug. ‘She’s okay, I guess.’ She didn’t want to
give anything away – not just yet. Anna needed to delve a bit
more before mentioning the doll’s head and Muriel’s strange
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behaviour since. She wondered if Tina and Muriel still spoke.
After Jonie went missing their relationship had faltered – so her mum had told her once after one too many sherries. Muriel had
never talked about what happened, how things had been in
Mapledon afterwards, and Anna had never wanted to bring it
up herself, so the memories faded. The aftermath had been bad,
affecting the whole community – she knew that – but couldn’t recall any specific repercussions.
But she knew everything had changed when Jonie Hayes was taken.
‘Maybe we should all get together for a coffee while you’re
here?’ Tina said.
Anna raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t been expecting that.
Tina’s sudden invite felt forced, like it’d been offered out of
necessity. Tina wanted something, she could tell. Had she also been targeted with a doll’s head on her door and now wanted,
or needed, to talk to her old friend about it? They might not
be close anymore, but maybe their shared past – the inexplicable
thing that had happened – was more than enough to break
down the barriers that had been built during the subsequent
years.
‘Yeah, sure. Pop over tomorrow morning. If you aren’t going
to church that is. Mum will be thrilled to see you,’ Anna said,
although her sentiments may well have been exaggerated. Who
knew if Muriel would be thrilled? God only knew what had been
going on here over the years Anna had been away.
Tina snorted. ‘I don’t go to church anymore, haven’t done
since . . .’ She shook her head. ‘There is no God. I’ll be over at ten.’ Tina gave a curt nod and walked off, back down the
cul-de-sac. Anna watched her disappear around the corner
before returning her attention to the bungalow. There was a
reason Tina wanted to have this ‘get-together’ – the obvious one
being Billy Cawley’s release. But a prickling on the back of Anna’s neck told her there was more to it than that.
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Reassured for the moment that Billy Cawley had not returned to live in the bungalow in Blackstone Close, Anna turned her
back on it and walked on. She wished she’d turned her back on
it thirty years ago, too. Before the chain reaction of events
following that game had become fatal. It seemed Anna’s life had
been filled with what ifs and if onlys.
The church came into sight almost immediately once she’d
joined the main street – its limestone-rendered tower visible
through the trees. She’d walk as far as the church, checking the
outside of every house as she went, then return to her mum’s
via the road that branched off to the left, near the village hall.
That way, she’d have done a circuit of Mapledon. Her hopes of
finding something ‘out of place’ were fading, though. It might
be that a more direct approach would be necessary – asking
outright if anyone had experienced something out of the ordi-
nary over the past few days. Anna thought Robert, at Brook
Cottage Store, might be a good person to ask. For now, she’d
continue the walk. If nothing else, it was keeping her out of her mother’s hair for a bit longer.
As Anna reached the top of the village and approached the
church, she spotted a woman coming out of the wooden-gated
entrance. She didn’t recognise her, although she didn’t look
much different in age to Anna. Someone she went to school
with? She kept her attention on the figure for a few seconds too
long, garnering a strange look in response.
‘Hi,’ Anna said, deciding it would make the moment less
awkward now she’d been caught staring.
‘All right?’ The woman gave a quick, tight smile, hesitating
at the church gate as though she didn’t know quite what to do.
Anna took her indecision and obvious discomfort as a sign of
guilt. Had she stolen something from the church? Maybe she
wasn’t from around here at all, was some kind of chancer. Anna
took a few steps towards her. The woman didn’t have anything
with her, not even a bag. Her T-shirt was tight-fitting – so no
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stolen goods could be squirrelled away beneath it. She had various tattoos on both arms, a piercing under her bottom lip.
As she looked at her face, Anna noted her eyes were red as
though she’d been crying, and she suddenly felt appalled at
herself for jumping to conclusions. Clearly she was upset – had
probably just visited a grave.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to stare – just thought I recognised you,’
Anna lied.
‘No. I doubt that,’ the woman said. She made no attempt to
move past Anna. She took it as a signal to continue.
‘Not many people come to Mapledon,’ Anna said. ‘Not if they
want to leave again.’ She gave a laugh, hoping this woman would
take her comment as the joke she intended. Well, an almost-joke.
There might well be a grain of truth in her statement.
The woman smiled – it appeared to be a genuine one. ‘Yeah,
I heard that about this place.’ She reached a hand forwards.
‘Lizzie Brenfield,’ she said.
‘Well, hello, Lizzie.’ Anna took her hand, shaking it gently
before releasing it. ‘I’m Anna. I’m the one that got away.’ She
smiled before adding, ‘Although I appear to have been dragged
back.’
Lizzie cocked her head to one side. ‘Well, that makes two of
us.’
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Chapter Twenty
2019
Lizzie
The Lord moveth in mysterious ways, Lizzie thought as she took a step back from Anna to make a quick appraisal of the situation.
A moment ago she’d believed her trip here would ultimately be
fruitless, but now it seemed she’d been thrown a lifeline.
Whoever Anna was, whatever her reason for being here, she too
appeared to have a similar feeling about Mapledon. Lizzie’s
journalistic mind kicked in. There could even be a story here.
One that wasn’t hers.
‘You from here originally then, Anna?’ Lizzie wondered why she
hadn’t offered up her surname. She’d have to work a little harder.
‘Yep. For my sins.’
Lizzie arched one eyebrow. Interesting phrasing. She tried to
think quickly. She didn’t want to waste this opportunity to find
out more about Mapledon’s current goings-on, but
then she
also didn’t want to launch into a million questions and frighten
Anna off.
‘Mapledon doesn’t appear to be high on either of our “best
places to visit in Devon list” by the sounds of things.’
‘God, no!’ Anna said loudly. Lizzie observed Anna’s quick
glance towards the church and subsequent sign of the cross,
which she jabbed out over her chest.
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‘Don’t worry,’ Lizzie whispered, leaning forwards, ‘I don’t think He heard you.’
‘You never can be too careful though, eh?’
Lizzie felt an immediate bond with Anna – as though they
had something in common: a shared history. Maybe they did.
‘No, you can’t. Especially here in Mapledon,’ Lizzie said,
nudging Anna with her elbow. She meant it in jest, but her voice
hadn’t received that message. ‘Just joking,’ she added quickly.
‘Actually, Lizzie, you’re not far from the truth. Want to walk
with me? Or do you have to be somewhere else?’
Lizzie sensed Anna wanted to be away from the church, away
from the possibility of being overheard before talking more.
This was good news – it meant she knew something, and more
importantly, wanted to tell her about it. Perhaps her luck was
about to turn.
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Chapter Twenty-One
1989
Blackstone Close
Monday 17th July – 2 days before
When would the little shits let him be?
Billy Cawley saw the shadows, heard the scurrying of feet and
the giggles just moments before the banging on the front door.
He was tired. So bloody tired of it all. He’d lost count of how
many months he’d been hounded by the kids.
Kids. Part of him wanted to let it go – they didn’t know any
better. But he couldn’t. They should know better. Their parents should be teaching them better. Did they even know where their
bratty children were? What they were up to? And the people of
Mapledon had dared to give him a hard time about his parenting.
Fucking cheek. They all needed to be taught a lesson. He’d begun
chasing the kids out of the cul-de-sac – running after them,
shouting like a madman. He’d almost got hold of one lad just
last week, but now that he wasn’t keeping himself as fit, having