Anna
Friday 12th July
The sign, greying with age and rusted at the edges, came into view and Anna’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles blanching.
MAPLEDON.
Even before she turned off the main road she could feel her world shrinking. The village had been all-consuming when she’d lived there – everyone had known everyone else, everyone attended the same events, frequented the same – and only – pub; all her friends’ parents lived in each other’s pockets, socialising together, some even working together. There were no secrets in Mapledon. No chances to mess up without someone knowing. No opportunities to play outside the rules.
She didn’t suppose it’d got any better in her absence.
As she took the right turn at the old tollhouse, the road narrowed. Anna tugged the steering wheel, pulling the car over abruptly. The light was fading more quickly now, the sun dipping behind the dark granite rock of Haytor on nearby Dartmoor. It was still warm, or maybe it was Anna’s anxiety heating her blood. She wound the window down, breathing in slowly and deeply. It even smelled the same. That couldn’t be possible, she knew – but it transported her back to her childhood. Back to the memories Mapledon held; the ghosts she’d left behind. With a deep sigh, Anna shook off the feeling and tried to gain control. She should get to her mother’s house before dark – before the ghosts came.
Shifting the gear into first, she set off again, heeding the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit through the village. That was something new, at least. Second right, next left … She swallowed hard as she reached the turning to her mother’s road. Slowly, she drove in. Her heart banged. There it was. The 1960s magnolia-coloured, end terraced house she’d grown up in. She hadn’t visited the house since she’d left twenty years ago. She hadn’t even stepped foot in the village since she escaped its clutches. All contact with her mother had been through telephone calls and in person with her mother’s biannual trips to Anna’s house in Bristol.
Her mother had never argued when Anna had politely declined each of her invitations over the years. Never questioned why. She guessed Muriel knew without having to ask. Anna’s strained relationship with her mum had begun the day her father had walked out on them for another woman. Anna had always considered herself a daddy’s girl, so she was devastated when he left. She’d blamed everyone over the years: her mother, him, and even herself. But the full weight of her anger and bitterness had often been aimed at her mother – after all, she was the only one present and Anna believed Muriel had been the one to drive the poor man into someone else’s arms in the first place.
But he’d left Anna, too. For that she’d blamed him. He’d moved to the other end of the UK – Scotland, the farthest he could get – and had broken off all contact: not a phone call, not a letter. He’d abandoned his only daughter because of something her mother had done. That was unforgivable.
Anna pulled the key from the ignition and, with a dragging sensation in her stomach, got out of the car.
‘Bloody hell.’ Anna sucked in a lungful of air. Why hadn’t her mother removed the thing from the front door? It set a chill in motion, starting deep inside her belly and radiating outwards. And something else too – just outside her grasp. She imagined the attention Muriel would’ve got from the neighbours – she’d have revelled in that, no doubt. Approaching the front step, Anna couldn’t peel her eyes away from the gruesome head pinned like a horror-film prop on the door. Her mother would’ve left it there so that Anna could get the full effect.
She had to admit, seeing it for herself did add the extra fright factor. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she may well have dismissed Muriel’s hysteria out of hand. Rather than pass the macabre doll’s head, Anna retreated and made her way to the back door instead. Nothing about the house seemed to have changed – the gravel in the small square of garden to the side of the shed remained, the shed itself was clearly the original – the stained-red wood now flaky, splintered and pale from the years of battering rain and hot summers; the greenhouse, now with a few broken panes, had survived. The garden ornaments looked as though they were positioned in the exact same places as when she’d left.
Time had stood still here.
‘Anna! Why are you sneaking around the back? For God’s sake, child, you nearly gave me a heart attack … I thought someone had come for me …’ Muriel’s breaths were rapid; one bony hand was held to her chest.
‘Hi, Mum. Sorry, I just couldn’t—’
‘No, no,’ her mother interrupted. ‘See what I mean, then? I’m not over-reacting, am I?’
‘It appears not.’ Anna approached her mother and gave her a brief hug, kissing her cheek, which was icy cold, like she was dead already. After stepping inside, she closed the back door and turned to face her mother. ‘So. What did the police say?’
Muriel dropped her gaze. ‘I’m not bothering them with this,’ she said curtly.
‘But it’s weird, and maybe even threatening. Why would you call me in a panic but not inform the police?’ Anna could feel the annoyance flowing through her body. She’d only been in the house for thirty seconds and already she was losing her patience. She shouldn’t have come back here.
‘It’ll be kids, won’t it? Nothing better to do with their time. Nothing changes there, does it?’
‘You seriously think kids hammered a head to your door? Why would they?’
‘Things have moved on from the simple knocking on the door and running away game, Anna.’ Her cool, blue-grey eyes penetrated Anna’s, sending a shiver trickling down her spine like cold water from a shower.
‘Kids or not, you have to call the police.’
‘No, no.’ Her mother placed a hand on Anna’s arm. ‘I think it’s best to ignore it. They’ll get bored, move on elsewhere. It’s just a game to them.’
‘If it’s just a game, why were you so scared when you rang me?’
‘A shock, that’s all. When it first happened I reacted badly. I called before I had time to think about it. Silly prank, that’s all.’
‘But two minutes ago you said “I’m not over-reacting, am I?” And coupled with me almost giving you a heart attack and you saying “I thought someone had come for me” – I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that you’re really freaked out by this and don’t think it’s just a silly game!’
‘You know how it is – now you’re here, I suddenly feel daft. It doesn’t seem half as scary as earlier. Living alone, it does things to you, love. Makes you see things that aren’t there.’
Anna felt even less convinced by this. ‘But the head is there. Plain as day. You’re not seeing things.’
‘Yes, the doll’s head is there, I know. It’s more that I see meanings that aren’t there – like I attach significance to something trivial, assume things, that kind of thing. Overthink everything these days. It’s my age, I expect.’ Muriel gave a lopsided smile, her entire face crinkling like tissue paper. Time hadn’t been kind to her mother. ‘Let’s have a tipple. I assume you’re staying the night, aren’t you?’
God. No.
