I Dare You (ARC)

by Sam Carrington

  elbow. ‘I saw . . .’

  ‘Take your time,’ the officer said. His wide eyes told her that

  he didn’t mean it. He was leaning forward, waiting like an

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  impatient child who wanted their Christmas gift, and wanted it now. She took a deep breath and said the words in her head first; she wanted to get them right. Then she spoke out loud. ‘I

  saw him lift her up, into the truck. And then he got in too and

  screeched off down the road – the one going out of Mapledon.

  She . . . she shouldn’t have got in.’ The tears strangled her voice box and the words were high-pitched. ‘I don’t know why she

  got in. I don’t know why she left me.’

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  Chapter Seven

  2019

  Anna

  Saturday 13th July

  In keeping with the rest of the house, outside and in, Anna’s

  old bedroom had also remained unchanged. It was as though

  she’d stepped into a time warp and it unnerved her – especially

  in the dark shadows her old Pierrot lamp cast. The ancient

  springs in the single mattress did little to help: digging into her hip bones if she lay on her side; displacing her spine if she lay on her back. She hadn’t settled for hours. Now, as her body

  refused to bounce youth-like from the bed, she thought it went

  some way to explaining why her back was so prone to aches and

  pains now, as an adult. How had she ever put up with this? The

  floor would’ve given better comfort.

  Not stopping to inspect any of her childhood belongings,

  Anna stretched – her spine giving a loud, satisfying crack – and

  gingerly made her way downstairs to the kitchen fridge. She

  needed coffee. Her stomach contracted as she sniffed the milk.

  She pulled the carton away from her nose with such force some

  of the putrid contents spilled over.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ She went quickly to the sink and turned on

  the tap. With her forearm pressed against her nostrils, she

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  watched as the sour, lumpy liquid glugged down the plughole.

  Looking at the now empty carton she noted the use-by date was

  four days ago.

  ‘Mum, your milk is off!’ Anna shouted. She checked the fridge

  for fresh milk, but there was none. There wasn’t much of

  anything. She slammed the fridge door. No coffee to bring her

  to life first thing was tantamount to hell and she’d never make

  it through the day. The next hour even. Especially here.

  ‘Oh, sorry, love.’ Muriel came into the kitchen, her slippers

  scuffing over the lino. ‘Forgot to get a new carton.’

  ‘Forgot? But it’s been out of date for days – haven’t you been

  having cereal, or drinks?’

  ‘Oh, I just hadn’t got around to getting to the shop, been

  using the tin of Marvel I had in the cupboard for cups of tea.’

  ‘You’ve been using powdered milk instead of getting fresh?

  When did you last use Marvel? I didn’t even know they still

  made it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear, of course they do.’

  Anna was half-tempted to check the cupboard, see if the tin

  was also out of date, but was afraid she’d find that it was a

  decade out, not just days.

  ‘I’ll take you up the shop, then.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t need me, do you? You remember where it

  is, surely?’ Muriel slumped down onto the chair at the dining

  table.

  ‘You all right, Mum? You don’t look like you’ve slept.’

  ‘I look like this every morning. You wouldn’t know, would

  you?’

  Anna let the comment slide; she couldn’t exactly argue other-

  wise.

  ‘Do you want to make me a list?’ Anna offered. It occurred

  to her that her mum might not be taking good enough care of

  herself – or certainly not eating well, going by her gaunt appearance. Guilt tugged at her conscience; she’d always assumed

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  Muriel was okay living alone in Mapledon – she’d kept it together well after Anna’s father upped and left when she was just eleven.

  She was fit and healthy, had good friends. But Anna now

  wondered if that was what she’d wanted to think. It was easier to believe than the alternative. Anything to avoid coming back

  to this village.

  ‘Yes, that would be good, thank you.’ Muriel’s voice lifted;

  her face brightened.

  ‘When did you go out last?’ Anna frowned. Her mother’s

  reaction to her offer to go to the shop for her seemed far too

  enthusiastic. The doll’s head on the door was only yesterday –

  had other things been going on prior to that to cause her to

  fear leaving the house?

  Muriel waved an arm dismissively. ‘Oh, I can’t remember –

  only a couple of days ago. Now, the notepad is in the top drawer

  of the dresser, love.’ Muriel pointed towards the lounge.

  ‘Right,’ Anna said.

  While in the drawer retrieving the notepad, Anna had a

  rummage. She wasn’t sure what she was even looking for, but

  she had a niggling feeling. It was filled with old utility bills –

  thankfully none were red – and old letters. She picked up one

  of the yellowing envelopes. Black scrawling handwriting covered

  the front with little room left for the stamp. She squinted, trying to make out the postmark and date.

  ‘Got it?’ Muriel appeared in the doorway, her voice making

  Anna jump. She dropped the letter back in the drawer and slid

  it shut.

  ‘Yep. Got a pen?’ Anna straightened, hoping her mother hadn’t

  spotted her nosing through the drawer. Going back into the

  kitchen she gave Muriel the pad and waited for her to write the

  list. Her mum’s hands were shaky, the writing spiky and jagged.

  When she finished, Anna read it through to make sure she could

  decipher it.

  ‘Here you go.’ Muriel pushed a small, purple felt purse into

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  Anna’s hand. ‘The cash is in there. Should be enough. Get yourself what you need too, won’t you?’

  Anna squeezed the childish-looking purse. It didn’t feel very

  full. She swallowed down another surge of guilt, avoiding direct

  eye contact with her mother. For years she’d stayed away from

  here. From her mum. She’d had her reasons, but now she ques-

  tioned them.

  Sitting in the car, Anna checked the purse. A single five-pound

  note. The list Muriel had written would cost at least twenty;

  maybe her mind wasn’t as sharp as it once had been. She hoped

  it wasn’t anything serious, like dementia. It’s not like Anna

  would’ve noticed the early warning signs. She’d have to talk to

  Muriel’s neighbours, see if they had any concerns.

  Before setting off, Anna made a phone call.

  ‘Hey, darling girl. Sorry not to have made it home last night.

  You okay at your dad�
��s?’

  ‘Why are you staying with Nanna? Are you coming home

  now?’ Her voice quivered.

  This, together with Carrie’s avoidance of the question, made

  Anna’s heart beat harder. James was a good dad, she had never

  doubted that, but she knew Carrie got anxious when there was

  a change in her routine. She’d got used to staying with her dad

  every other weekend, knew what to expect and when. Clearly,

  she didn’t care for this current disruption.

  ‘Nanna’s not feeling too good at the moment and needs a

  little bit of help. I’m going to stay the weekend, but don’t worry

  – try and enjoy the time with Daddy. What have you two got

  planned?’

  There was a small sigh, then some rustling.

  ‘Hi, Anna.’

  James had obviously been in earshot and taken over the call.

  ‘Is she all right? She sounds upset with me.’

  ‘She’s fine, really. You know what she’s like. I’ve got the cinema booked for later – she’ll forget about you abandoning her then.’

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  ‘Really? God, James, you know I wouldn’t have asked you to have her unless it was important!’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. I know. Anyway, what was so urgent you had to

  actually go to Mapledon? Didn’t think anything would drag you

  back there.’

  ‘I’m not sure what’s going on, actually. I think Mum might

  be going a bit senile.’

  ‘Oh, fantastic. Are you sure? What makes you think that?’

  ‘A few things, but I haven’t got time to talk now really. I have

  to go to the shop. Look, I think I’m going to be here all weekend.

  Are you happy to keep Carrie?’

  ‘Of course. No problem. Stay as long as you need.’

  ‘Thanks, James. I appreciate it. Not that I want to be here for

  a second longer than absolutely necessary.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’ There was a pause before he

  added, ‘Take care there, Anna.’

  Coldness spread its icy branches inside her; his words trig-

  gering old anxiety, old memories. The ones she didn’t want to

  let in.

  Keeping her gaze forward, Anna walked into Brook Cottage

  Store – Mapledon’s only shop. Immediately, she was transported

  back to her childhood. How on earth had it stayed virtually the

  same for all these years? Anna walked past the pick-and-mix

  shelves – memories of filling a brown paper bag with penny

  sweets sweeping through her mind – and headed for the fridges.

  She quickly moved along the aisles, cramming stuff in her basket

  as she went. She didn’t want to be in the shop for too long. The

  longer she was there, the more likely someone might recognise

  her; stop her and ask unwanted questions.

  Anna heard more voices now, the shop suddenly filling up.

  She checked her phone for the time. Nine a.m. Damn, she hadn’t

  timed her visit well – the villagers of Mapledon were beginning

  their day. After checking her mother’s list one last time, Anna

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  popped in a jar of coffee and headed for the checkout. There were two counters with tills. That was different. Back when she

  was a child, there’d been just the one till and the owner of the

  shop, Nell Andrews, was always the one behind it. Now it seemed

  she’d upgraded, although it appeared only the one till was

  currently in use. Anna assumed Nell must’ve retired. That was

  something at least. The person serving was probably younger,

  new. Wouldn’t know who Anna was.

  There were several people ahead of her in the queue. Sweat

  formed on her upper lip. Be quick, hurry up. She tried to keep her head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. She

  might well know these people, but she wasn’t interested in them,

  their lives – wasn’t interested in ‘catching up’ with any of their news. She could hear the low murmur of conversation in front

  of her. Two women in the line were turned towards each other,

  baskets touching as they spoke. Anna could hear their supposed

  hushed chatter.

  ‘Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see the day.’

  ‘Everyone is horrified, Ali. The whole village is in shock.’

  Anna turned her head, one ear towards the gossiping couple.

  ‘Her poor mother, though. How the hell must she feel?’

  Anna’s heart hammered against her ribs, a sudden sensation

  of falling overcoming her. She popped her basket on the floor

  and put her hand on the bread stand to steady herself.

  ‘Oh, I know. I really feel for them. But surely he won’t come

  back here?’

  ‘I don’t think the villagers would allow it. And anyway, there’s

  nothing for him here.’

  ‘But what if we see him? Can you imagine if he were to walk

  into this shop now, or he moved back into that bungalow? It

  has been standing empty all these years.’

  The queue surged forwards and the women stopped talking

  as they were served. Anna’s saliva had dried, her mouth mois-

  tureless. The women could be talking about anyone. Twenty

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  years of things Anna had no clue about had gone on in this village. The likelihood they were talking about that particular event was slim, she convinced herself.

  Until she reached the till.

  At the side of the counter was the newspaper rack. The same

  position it had always been. Her eyes were drawn to the head-

  line of the Herald Express.

  MAPLEDON MURDERER RELEASED.

  The noises in the shop faded. All Anna could see was the

  newspaper, the bold capital letters boring into her brain.

  ‘Everyone’s up in arms about it. The whole village.’ A male

  voice finally penetrated her thoughts.

  ‘When?’ Anna’s single word was strangled with fear.

  ‘Four days ago,’ the man said, taking the items from Anna’s

  basket and scanning them. ‘No one’s spotted him, yet. Mind

  you, I guess no one knows what he looks like now. But he

  wouldn’t dare come back here. Mum said he’d be a fool to. She

  wouldn’t serve him, she said.’

  Anna didn’t respond at first, her thoughts crashing against

  each other, tumbling in her head. She fumbled in her purse and

  paid for the shopping with her debit card. Looking properly at

  the man behind the counter, she realised he was Nell Andrews’

  son, Robert – his hair had receded, and his face was thinner

  than she remembered.

  ‘Has your mum retired?’ Anna asked, not because she was

  interested, more because she wanted to take a minute or two to

  recover before attempting to walk out of the shop.

  ‘God, no. She’ll be here until the end of time. I’ve just been

  covering – she’s a bit under the weather at the moment. She’ll

  be back!’ The man gave a wide grin. Anna assumed he hadn’t

  recognised her and was grateful for this good fortune – a ‘wow,

  it’s been years’ conversation wasn’t one she wanted now. Or

 
ever. She thanked him and left, his words echoing in her mind:

  ‘Four days ago. No one’s spotted him yet.’

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  Four days ago. The same period of time her mother hadn’t left the house.

  The vision of Muriel’s front door swam in front of her eyes.

  And the doll’s head hammered to it, its relevance now achingly

  obvious.

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  Chapter Eight

  2019

  Lizzie

  All her good intentions of sitting Dom down, telling him about

  her past, went out of the window with one phone call. Now it

  would have to wait.

  Lizzie shoved her hastily packed bag into the boot of her

  Vauxhall. She was due to upgrade her poor car, had saved for

  the last three years, but hadn’t quite been able to part ways with her trusty old friend yet. They’d done a lot of travelling together

  – she knew every inch of this car, knew how to handle it. Trusted it, despite its obvious failings: the driver’s side window didn’t go fully up or down, had been stuck in a halfway limbo for

  about a year; the wheel trims had long since been ripped off,

  and the bumper was practically held on with luck. Dom chided

  her, begged her to get it seen to, but it wasn’t high on her list of priorities – as far as she was concerned the faults were purely aesthetic. Knowing she was likely to change the car anyway, she’d said it was pointless spending money on it. Then she’d kept

  stalling on actually looking for a better one.

  Some things were hard to let go of.

  With an open packet of rhubarb and custard sweets on the

  passenger seat within easy reach, her travel mug with coffee in

  the cup holder and the radio on, Lizzie set off. She hoped the

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  butterflies currently swarming her stomach would abate once she pulled onto the motorway. But then, there was a strong

  chance they might stay with her until this ‘job’ was over.

  Singing along to James Blunt’s ‘You’re Beautiful’ as loudly as

  she could bear, Lizzie attempted to focus on the road instead

  of her destination – and what she’d find there. Who she’d find there. Within twenty minutes she’d joined the M5 motorway

  traffic. Now all she had to do was follow the signs to Devon.

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