see the look of uncertainty and surprise on the boy’s face.
‘You’re a psycho,’ said Ben, looking down at the hockey stick and taking a step back.
Neve, sensing she had the upper hand, took a step forward. ‘And you are pushing your luck.’ She gave the hockey stick the slightest of twitches and was satisfied when Ben Hewitt flinched.
As she walked calmly back to the car, she was aware the other kids were watching her all the way. Hopefully she had made her point.
‘You want to watch your back!’ Ben Hewitt’s voice trailed after her. ‘Both of you. Nasty things can happen, even in a quiet little village like this.’
Neve ignored the jibe. The little prick was just trying to regain some credibility from his cronies. The pinging of her mobile phone took her attention away from the scene and pausing before she got into the car, she saw she had a reply to her earlier message.
I wondered when you’d contact me. When and where?
Despite everything and her long-held desire never to have anything to do with Ash again, an undeniable shot of adrenalin raced through her. This must be what it was like for addicts when they weighed up a glass of wine, a line of coke, a betting slip, a cigarette. The rush, even if for just a split second, was always there. Apprehension followed as she sent her reply.
Old boathouse on the other side of the bridge. Today. 1pm.
Having dropped Poppy at St Joseph’s and spoken to the pastoral care teacher about the incident at the bus stop that morning, Neve drove back to Ambleton. She had tried to talk it through with Poppy in the car, but she had clammed up, refusing to enter into any sort of dialogue. Neve had been reduced to talking into the empty space between them, reinforcing the fact that Poppy could and should speak to an adult she trusted so bullies like Ben Hewitt could be dealt with, with no real gauge of how much Poppy was taking in.
Neve had been a little sketchy recalling her part of the confrontation. It had all happened so fast, at the time she hadn’t even considered the consequences of her actions. She had seen the proverbial red rag and proceeded to lose it. Neve was pretty sure she had sworn at Ben Hewitt and, at the time, hadn’t even realised she was brandishing a hockey stick. It wasn’t until she had got back in the car she registered it in her hand.
Now as Neve tried to recall the incident again, the clarity still wouldn’t come. She had a strange sense of feeling removed and watching the argument play out, as if she had been a bystander herself. A feeling she wasn’t so unfamiliar with. It was often a symptom of stressful situations, a coping mechanism, a counsellor had once told her. But then what the hell did that counsellor know?
She wiped each sweaty palm in turn on the fabric of her dress, as memories of people and places from darker days filled her mind.
‘Megan,’ she whispered.
The sudden sound of the blast of a car horn shook her from her thoughts as she realised she had allowed the car to drift over the white line in the middle of the road. She yanked hard on the steering wheel, swerving the car back to the correct side of the road just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming vehicle.
‘Concentrate!’ she scolded herself. It wasn’t until she was turning into her own driveway that Neve allowed herself to think of what lay ahead of her that day, specifically, her meeting with Ash, or Lee as he was calling himself these days.
Her stomach gave a small roll of anxiety. His reply showed he was obviously expecting to hear from her at some point. He must have somehow known she was living here but had that been before or after he had started work at The Forum? Had he come here on purpose or had The Forum job been a pure coincidence? Neve wasn’t sure she believed in coincidences.
She let Willow out into the back garden with promises of a nice walk later and then made herself a cup of tea which she took out onto the patio with a magazine. Maybe she could distract herself?
It turned out she couldn’t. She read the words but had no idea what they said, unable to concentrate for more than a few seconds before her mind raced back to Lee, her past, and in turn, to Megan. Usually she did a good job of compartmentalising her life, her thoughts and her past, but today she just couldn’t keep those memories under control. And, as always, when she thought of Megan, it hurt in the most brutal way. Whoever said time was a healer was a liar.
Neve leant back in the chair and closed her eyes, allowing the warm July sun to heat her face. Even today, after all this time, Neve still felt the pain as raw as if it were yesterday. She remembered how she’d felt – so utterly devastated. She remembered how everything that happened that August had changed her life for ever. She missed Megan dreadfully but no matter how much she wished she could go back and change history, she knew she couldn’t.
The emotional exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours hit Neve without warning. One minute she was resting in the garden chair, the next minute she woke up and realised it was midday and a couple of hours had passed.
She rubbed her eyes and peered at the clock on her phone and then her wristwatch by way of confirmation. Fortunately, clouds had passed over and she had been saved the indignity of a sunburnt face.
Twenty minutes later, she had freshened up, repaired her make-up and changed into a fresh white shirt, which she teamed with her skinny jeans and Converse trainers. She looked at herself in the mirror, vainly wondering what Ash would make of her after all this time. Suddenly, it mattered that she looked good. She didn’t want him to think she’d let herself go since moving away. She frowned at her reflection as she tidied up her hair. It annoyed her that she cared. He should be the last person she cared about. The absolute last person in the world.
‘Come on, Willow,’ called Neve from the hallway as she took the lead off the peg. ‘Time for that walk.’
The yellow Labrador skidded across the laminated flooring in anticipation, her whole body wagging with undiluted excitement.
Neve gave a laugh. ‘You are a silly dog,’ she said, hooking the lead onto the D-ring of the collar. ‘Please try to look a bit fierce and menacing when we get to the river. I need you as my bodyguard.’
A small footbridge ran parallel to the old stone bridge which crossed the River Amble, a later addition to the landscape after pedestrians complained of near misses with traffic squeezing between the narrow stonework to cross the river. Effectively, the bridge acted as the village boundary, crossing the tidal River Amble which was prone to breaching its banks every so often and flooding the land beyond. Every cloud had its silver-lining Kit had said. The floodplains would never be built on and as a consequence, Ambleton would avoid a ring of modern housing estates like those that had circled other villages in the county. The greedy amongst them, and Neve had to admit that Kit was one of those, were delighted as it pushed property prices up in the village and kept it relatively exclusive. Of course, there was the local council estate, but that was nothing more than twenty houses in a small cul-de-sac where the majority of homes were privately owned these days anyway. Something else Kit declared a bonus.
Neve reached the other side of the bridge. The old ramshackle boathouse was about fifty metres along the bank to the right and beyond that, around the bend in the river was the small marina where Kit had his office.
Neve cut across the road and down the stone steps to the riverbank. She paused at the foot of the steps, looking
