I Dare You (ARC)

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I Dare You (ARC) Page 9

by Sam Carrington


  walked around the house to give the phone to Carrie. Anna

  tensed. It was a conversation she knew would upset them both.

  She had to try and make it sound like it was an exciting oppor-

  tunity for her to be with her dad. Anna would have to make it

  up to her.

  After some coaxing, a bit of bribery and assurances that Anna

  loved her, Carrie finally seemed placated and Anna went back

  inside to her mother.

  ‘I’ve spoken to James, Mum. I’m staying for a few more days.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good, love. Thank you.’ Her mind was elsewhere,

  Anna sensed.

  ‘I meant to say as well, Auntie Tina is popping in at ten-ish.’

  ‘What?’ Muriel shot Anna a quizzical glance. ‘What do you

  mean, popping in? How do you know this?’

  ‘Didn’t I mention yesterday that I’d seen her?’ Anna felt

  disingenuous, knowing full well she hadn’t uttered a word about

  it.

  ‘No. You most certainly did not!’

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  Anna was shocked at her tone. Had things really become that bad between them?

  ‘Sorry, I bumped into her while I was walking around the

  village. She asked after you, and me, of course. She mentioned

  getting together, so I invited her for a coffee and catch-up.’ Anna paused. ‘I assumed it would be okay?’

  Muriel chewed on her lower lip, saying nothing.

  ‘Mum?’

  Muriel shook her head and tutted. ‘You should’ve checked

  with me first, Anna. I don’t want to see her.’

  ‘Why not? What on earth happened between you two?’

  ‘It’s water under the bridge, dear. It’ll do no good dredging

  up the past.’

  ‘We don’t need to. I think she just wants to talk about now

  – how you are, probably what I’ve been doing.’ Even as she was

  saying it, Anna got an uneasy feeling. Auntie Tina hadn’t seemed

  as though she’d really be interested to hear about Anna’s life.

  Yesterday, she’d come across as bitter that Anna had been the

  one to live at all. The visit was looking like a potential disaster.

  She wished she could take the invite back now.

  ‘I doubt Tina will be wanting to talk about the future.’

  ‘When did you last speak to her though? Maybe she’s moved

  on.’

  ‘She never moved on, Anna. From the day Jonie went missing,

  Tina changed. She’s not who you knew when you were growing

  up. We lost our connection, really, when we lost Jonie. From

  that moment on I think she began to resent me, although she

  seemingly tried to hide it, keeping it all in for a while. But it must’ve deepened over the months and it came to a head a few

  years later. It erupted then, causing her to despise me, you –

  everyone who continued with their life unaltered—’

  ‘God, no one was left unaltered, Mum. Surely she knows that.’

  ‘No one suffered like Tina suffered – she made sure everyone

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  sign of the cross before carrying on. ‘His grief wasn’t as great, his loss not as profound. No one could understand, no one

  could truly know what Tina had been through, continued to go

  through. She looked for that girl night after night, for years. It destroyed her.’ Tears shone on Muriel’s dry, crinkly cheeks. ‘It

  ripped her marriage apart, something Mark didn’t recover from,

  and it eventually destroyed our friendship too. Even the village

  never felt the same again. Not safe. It never really recovered.’

  ‘Did you ever tell Tina this? Like you’ve just told me?’

  ‘Of course. But it didn’t help. She never forgave me, you see.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For it being Jonie and not you.’ Muriel looked into Anna’s

  eyes. For a split second, all Anna saw was pain. But something

  else was hidden there too. Guilt? Surely the person who’d deliv-

  ered the bloody message couldn’t be alluding to Muriel having

  blood on her hands?

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  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  2019

  Lizzie

  Brook Cottage Store looked like one of those shops that simply

  didn’t exist in the twenty-first century. Lizzie had a sense of déjà vu when she walked through the door and a bell rang out – the

  gentle tinkling sound touching a memory. She closed her eyes

  for a moment, trying to capture it. She’d been inside the store

  before, she felt sure. But of course, she was bound to have been

  – it was the only shop in Mapledon now, so it must’ve been the only one when she lived here.

  Grabbing a wire basket, Lizzie began to walk up the first aisle.

  As she cast her gaze about her, she wondered if she’d be stared

  at, or even approached by curious shoppers. But, she realised,

  there were currently only two other customers, and one person

  working the till. It was Sunday morning, so she didn’t expect it

  was going to be teeming with villagers. Even driving up the

  main street she’d been surprised at how dead it was; she’d only

  seen one older man walking a dog.

  Thinking about the likely demographic of the village, she

  concluded it would be the older folk up and about now, coming

  to the store to collect their Sunday papers – unless of course

  there were kids doing the paper delivery rounds. But it was the

  older residents she was hoping to see anyway; they’d be the ones

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  most likely to remember what happened here, and to know about any new developments since Billy Cawley’s release. Though,

  they’d probably be the same people who would close ranks and

  refuse to speak to her about any of it. Her best hope was over-

  hearing local gossip. And she was in a prime place for that.

  She thought about the guy working the till. If he worked here

  full-time, he’d be privy to all the chatter, all the gossip. Shop workers often were – they were the next best thing to hairdressers in that respect. Lizzie carried on browsing the products on the

  shelf, deciding as she went that if she didn’t hear any interesting snippets of information, she’d try her luck with the till guy. She could turn on the charm when she needed to. She could get

  him talking. It was her job, after all.

  Lizzie felt his eyes on her before she turned and saw that he

  was, indeed, watching her. She’d been so long browsing she’d

  obviously caught his attention, and now he maybe thought she

  was a shoplifter. She smiled and then placed another random

  item in the basket before ambling around the end of the next

  aisle. She almost said something, but one of the two other people in the shop approached the till and so she bit her tongue. She

  hovered within earshot.

  Please, please, have a gossip.

  Lizzie gave an audible sigh when the people at the till lowered

  their voices to such a level she couldn’t make out any of their

  conversation. It’s like they knew what she was there for.
/>
  Frustration bubbled inside her. She’d have to think of a way in,

  something to pique the man’s interest to enable her to ask a few

  questions without ringing alarm bells. She waited for the

  customers to leave, then slammed her basket on the counter.

  ‘Makes such a change to have the time to peruse what your

  lovely shop has to offer. There aren’t any shops like this one

  where I live now – I do miss this village,’ Lizzie said. It garnered a frown from the man. She could almost see the cogs working

  overtime trying to place her.

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  ‘Oh? You used to live here? I don’t . . .’ He shook his head, giving a cautious smile.

  ‘Years ago now, you wouldn’t recognise me – I don’t recognise

  you either.’ Lizzie took a carrier and began putting the items in after he’d slowly scanned them.

  ‘So, who do you belong to?’ He said it in a light-hearted way,

  but Lizzie sensed the undercurrent of uneasiness. Like immedi-

  ately he hadn’t believed her. She had to be careful now, although at this point there was little to lose. Should she drop Anna’s

  name, even though she didn’t know her surname, or who she

  belonged to? She could play it relatively safe and mention Muriel Fisher instead. At least she had the full name and knew she’d

  been a villager back then. She’d checked death records and

  hadn’t found an entry, so she assumed she was still alive. And

  as Anna had jokingly said yesterday, people didn’t often leave

  Mapledon, so it was a good bet she still lived here. She couldn’t remember, or didn’t know, if she had siblings, though. She

  wondered if she could get away with saying she was a niece. Sod

  it, she had to try something.

  ‘No one anymore, my own parents are gone, sadly – but I do

  have a cousin here. I’m making a fleeting visit before I go abroad to work.’ Lizzie inwardly cringed – she didn’t know where that

  came from, she hadn’t planned to say cousin, she’d meant to

  just say aunt. She moved on, quickly changing it in the hope he

  hadn’t taken it in. ‘My aunt is getting on a bit now. Muriel – do you know her?’

  She’d done it now. No backtracking would change it.

  ‘Oh, of course! Everyone knows Muriel. She’s a good friend

  of my mum’s. They’ve been friends for donkey’s years, and her

  daughter is roughly my age so we kinda grew up together in

  Mapledon.’

  Lizzie smiled, but not wishing to get caught out by not

  knowing the daughter’s name, carried on without comment.

  ‘Yes, so anyway, being back here is a bit odd, really.’ Lizzie

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  lowered her head, watching his expression through her fringe.

  ‘You know, the timing and all.’ She hoped that would be enough

  to elicit a remark from him. Unfortunately, he simply said

  ‘hmmm’ and continued scanning.

  She changed tack. ‘I’ve never forgotten that poor girl. I’ve

  found myself wondering what happened to her over the years.

  This village holds such sad memories.’ She swiped at a pretend

  tear.

  ‘I know, same.’ He moved his hand towards her, but withdrew

  it again before touching her. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a difficult time for so many of us. It’s all people are talking to me about and to be

  honest, it’s getting me down now. I’m hearing the same things

  over and over from different people. It’s so draining.’

  ‘Gosh, yes – I hadn’t thought about that. It must be terrible

  for you, and now I’m adding to it. It’s not like you can get away from it,’ Lizzie said, offering a sympathetic smile. ‘I assume you live in the village?’

  ‘Yes. Still here, living with my mum. And I know, before you

  say it, it’s such a cliché. God, it’s actually sad, but I always felt I had to stay, after it all. Then, as she’s aged, she’s needed more help, so . . . you know.’

  ‘That sounds perfectly reasonable – not a cliché at all,’ Lizzie

  said, thinking the exact opposite. ‘Hey – is there still a pub here?’

  Lizzie remembered seeing it as she’d walked up the main street

  yesterday.

  ‘Yes – not that it’s great, if I’m honest. Mainly old people.’

  He said the last bit in a whisper from behind his hand. Lizzie

  laughed.

  ‘Well, do you fancy dropping the average age of its punters

  a bit by having a drink with me later?’

  The man’s eyes brightened. ‘Sure, would love to. What time?’

  ‘Say . . . eight?’

  ‘Great. It’s a hundred yards or so to the right as you go down

  the hill. I’ll meet you outside if you like?’

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  That would be a good idea – she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention by going in alone. ‘Yes, lovely. See you later.’ Lizzie took her bag from the counter. ‘Sorry, I’m Lizzie, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Robert. Rob. Bob. Bobby. Any of those.’ He smiled

  warmly. ‘Nell’s son. We own this shop – in case you didn’t know

  that already.’

  Lizzie returned his smile. Nell, as in Nell Andrews. Perfect.

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  Chapter Thirty

  1989

  Blackstone Close

  Saturday 8th July – 11 days before

  Billy lifted his head from the arm of the sofa, immediately regretting doing so: it felt heavy, clogged, painful. His tongue was dry too, sticking to the roof of his mouth – he had to free it with his forefinger, causing him to gag; it made a strange suction sound

  as it released. He rested his head back gently while dropping his arm and feeling around, exploring the floor beside the sofa with

  his fingertips until he located the can. He took a swig from the

  remaining content – the warm lager tasted foul, but he continued

  to gulp it down anyway – anything to relieve the dehydration.

  A sinking feeling surged through his gut. The can was his

  last. How would he get through another night of loneliness, of

  guilt and regrets, if he didn’t have alcohol? He’d need to replenish his stock, but couldn’t face going to Brook Cottage Store to buy

  it. Couldn’t face the judgement, the accusations. And he dare

  not drive outside of Mapledon to acquire some – if he got

  stopped, he knew his blood alcohol level would put him over

  the limit. Though incarceration might actually be better than

  how he was living right now, he would never turn this around

  if he were in prison.

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  He snorted. If he was being honest, and taking a good, hard look at himself, then he would never turn it around by diving

  into the bottle every time he hit a stumbling block either. He

  needed to pull himself together, get back to work. The problem

  with working for himself was having no one else to answer to

  and having a plethora of excuses for why he couldn’t find any

  carpentry jobs. The people of Mapledon wouldn’t employ him.

  He had to go further afield – and in his current state of mind


  it was too much effort. Much easier to lie about all day and

  wallow in self-pity.

  God, he missed her.

  He’d let her down so badly.

  His forced solitude was suffocating him. If only people could

  give him a chance, instead of believing all the terrible stories

  flying around. If only he had company. Being by himself all the

  time wasn’t good for him. Never had been. He needed, craved

  someone to understand him. To be beside him and love him.

  To trust him.

  But, did he deserve any of that after messing up so badly?

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  Chapter Thirty-One

  2019

  Anna

  Sunday 14th July

  Anna paced the lounge from the doorway to the window and

  back, the edge of one thumbnail jammed between her teeth,

  chewing on it vigorously as she waited for Auntie Tina to walk

  down the path.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, love, you’re making me nervous,’ Muriel said. ‘Stand still. Or better yet, sit.’

  ‘I can’t. Not now you’ve told me I’ve done the wrong thing

  inviting her here. If she hates me for merely living, then why

  does she want to come for coffee? Is she going to lace it with

  arsenic?’

  ‘And I thought I was the one who blew things out of propor-

  tion,’ Muriel muttered, giving Anna a knowing look. Anna

  smiled weakly. Did her mum know that’s what she often said

  about her – what she told other people – that her mother was

  inclined to dramatise?

  The doorbell startled her, in turn making Muriel jump.

  Anna shot a wide-eyed glance towards her mum and headed

  to the door.

  ‘Morning, Auntie Tina,’ Anna said.

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  ‘You going to keep me on the doorstep?’

  Anna stood back quickly. She hadn’t realised she’d frozen.

  ‘Sorry, yes – come in.’

  Even though the morning was warm, Anna felt a chill as Tina

  brushed past her and walked into the lounge. She took a slow

  breath in, closed the door, then headed into the lion’s den.

  ‘Haven’t seen you out and about for a while, Muriel,’ Tina said,

  as soon as she sat at the dining table.

  ‘The way it goes sometimes.’ Muriel gave a shrug.

 

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