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.
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 ordinary 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 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.’
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.
‘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.
Monday 17th July – 2 days before
When would the little shits let him be?
Billy
