Protective, yet angry at the same time.
‘I’d told her. Told them. Warned them.’ Her mother’s voice was clipped, spoken in such a way as to make her seem out of
breath. Maybe she was in shock, too.
‘I’m sure you did what you could,’ police officer Vern said.
‘As a parent myself, I know how difficult it is to keep your eyes on your children all the time. You have to give them some
freedom, and as you say, it’s a small village – you don’t expect
something like this to happen.’
‘No. No, you don’t,’ she agreed, her head shaking from side
to side.
‘I’m sorry to have to keep you, I know you’d like to get your
daughter back home, but I do need to speak with her. Try to
get a fuller picture – a timeframe of events. It’s crucial we don’t waste any more time . . . You understand, don’t you?’
Her mother looked down at her as the officer spoke. A tingling
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feeling spread through her, reaching her fingertips, making them feel as though they were on fire. There was something in the
tone of the policeman’s voice – a hidden meaning she couldn’t
grasp. But by the look on her mother’s face, she knew it was
bad. It was all bad. And now she’d have to tell them what had
happened. What she’d caused to happen.
It was all her fault. She’d get the blame for it all.
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Chapter Four
2019
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
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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 magno-
lia-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 some-
thing her mother had done . That was unforgivable.
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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
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door and turne
d 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.’
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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 some-
thing 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. She most certainly wasn’t intending to. ‘Oh, erm . . .
I only asked James to have Carrie for the evening,’ she lied. ‘I
was going to drive back home later.’
‘Please stay, Anna. You haven’t been back in so long and I
need you now. One night won’t kill you.’
It might.
Guilt surged through her. If she stayed tonight, there was a
strong chance she’d be talked into staying the whole weekend
– God forbid, even longer now that school had broken up for
the summer holiday. James would jump at the opportunity to
spend extra time with Carrie. The divorce had hit him hard,
but it was the restricted time with Carrie that really hurt him.
Her mother didn’t have to know that, though. ‘I’ll call James,
see what he can do. But I can’t promise anything, Mum.’
Muriel’s face relaxed as she took two glasses from the display
cabinet and poured a large glug of sherry into each one – she
knew full well she was going to get what she wanted.
She always did.
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Chapter Five
2019
Lizzie
Saturday 13th July
She hadn’t slept well, the night passing slowly as images of her
childhood filled the hours which sleep should have. Lizzie had
spent the bulk of her life trying not to remember her upbringing.
Trying to bury it along with who she used to be. She wasn’t
that girl anymore, but she knew it was just beneath the surface,
lying dormant. She’d worked hard to keep this other self hidden.
And up until the opening of the letter yesterday, she’d succeeded.
‘You were restless last night,’ Dom said as he appeared in the
bedroom doorway, his toothbrush vibrating in his mouth, white
foam escaping onto his chin.
‘Sorry, did I keep you awake?’ Lizzie asked. He disappeared
again, and she heard him spitting in the sink, then the tap
running. He returned, his face now free from white paste.
‘It doesn’t matter. Not like I don’t keep you up with my
snoring is it?’ He smiled and walked over to the bed. ‘I guess
it’s payback.’ He placed his hands on Lizzie’s shoulders and
pushed her back onto the mattress, straddling her. He lifted her
top and traced his tongue along her ribcage, around the edges
of her dragonfly tattoo. She wasn’t in the mood, but it wasn’t
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Dom’s fault. She gave a playful squeal and wriggled beneath his body.
Lizzie hadn’t believed her luck when Dom had asked her out.
Continued to disbelieve it as the years went on, but not only
had he stayed with her, he’d asked her to marry him too. Despite
Lizzie’s insistence she didn’t want children, he’d wanted to be
with her. Told her he was going to spend his life with her – until they got old and died. Lifelong love, commitment, loyalty – they
were alien concepts to Lizzie. The fact Dom promised all these
things both thrilled and scared her. Why would he – should he
– be any different to the others? But here they were, seventeen
years later, still happy and in love.
She didn’t want anything to change that. Least of all the one
person who’d messed up her life over thirty years ago.
And she couldn’t help but wonder how Dom would react if
he found out about her past; the fact she’d kept things from
him for all that time. Marriage is based on trust; secrecy is the enemy. She remembered those words as though he’d spoken
them moments ago – they’d both repeated that mantra for the
first few years, the rest of the time it was just something they’d assumed. Dom would feel betrayed if he knew.
‘Come on, you’ll be late for work.’ Lizzie pushed him away.
‘Okay.’ A flicker of concern crossed his face. ‘Anything on
your mind?’ Dom tucked his shirt back into his suit trousers
and straightened his tie. ‘Tough job coming up?’
‘No. Well, actually yes.’ There it was. Her get-out clause – she
could say it was work-related. ‘I’ve got to cover a story – not
one I’m keen on doing if I’m honest.’
‘Can’t another journo do it?’
‘In theory, yes. But I haven’t had much on lately – being
freelance you kinda have to take what you can.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’re going to be late – I’ll tell you about it tonight.’
She hated herself, lying like that. She should just tell him the
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truth. Maybe she would later – instead of spinning him a story, she’d sit him down, open up. Finally. He would either accept
that she hadn’t been able to talk about it before now, or not.
It’d be better to have difficult discussions now, rather than have something come out at a later date and make him even more
upset with her for hiding her past.
Dom is a good man. Dom will understand.
Feeling lighter now she’d made the decision to disclose
everything later, Lizzie shot up from the bed and launched herself at Dom. He let out a surge of air as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his middle.
‘Steady on, girl. You’re not as light as you used to be,’ he said, staggering backwards.
‘Oh, get away with you.’
She kissed him as he pulled her in even tighter, pushing
himself into her. He groaned.
‘Now, that would make me really late,’ he whispered. ‘Love you.’
‘And I love you,’ she said, lowering herself from him. ‘See
you tonight, babe.’
The silence in the room once Dom left crushed her. She
wouldn’t be working today.
Lizzie had to do something constructive; something to release
the tension building in her gut. She needed to know where
William Cawley was.
She had to find him, before he found her.
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Chapter Six
1989
Bovey Police Station
Friday 21st July
‘So, missy, your mum tells me you saw something that might
help us?’
The girl stared down at her trembling hands. She didn’t want
to be in the dimly lit, stuffy station, she wanted to be back in
her bedroom among her wall-to-wall posters of New Kids on
The Block, singing along to her favourite songs on the stereo
and dancing. She loved making up dance routines in her
bedroom. It was what she’d wanted to do instead of going out.
She should never have agreed to play that stupid game again
– she should’ve listened to her mother.
She’d listened to her about going to the police, though. She
owed it to her mum to do as she was told now. Even if it was
too late. ‘ You have to do it for your friend,’ she’d said over and over. ‘ You need to do it for her.’
‘Yes . . .’ Her voice shook. She turned her pale face towards
her mum, who gave an encouraging smile and a nudge with her
I Dare You (ARC) Page 2