I Dare You (ARC)

by Sam Carrington

she’d be turning back about now and heading for the safety of

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  the car. But the only ghosts she believed in were those in her head – her memory, or her imagination. She tripped on uneven

  ground but managed to right herself. She took it more slowly.

  At least she knew where to find Rosie’s grave; that made the

  walk across the ground slightly easier.

  Something smashed against her shin.

  ‘Ow!’ She stooped to rub the painful lump that had already

  risen. She’d walked into a small gravestone – she didn’t stop to

  read the inscription. It was probably that of a child. As she cast her phone around where she was standing, the beam picked up

  movement.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice wavered. She hadn’t even meant to call

  out.

  There was a rustling noise, then she heard breathing.

  She froze. Shit. Why the hell did you come here alone?

  She forced herself to breathe more slowly. A panic attack would

  not be helpful in this situation. The sounds of movement had

  stopped. She could no longer hear breathing. Had she heard her

  own panicked breaths? Lizzie moved cautiously forwards, her

  eyes keeping focus on the area ahead of her. She risked hitting

  another headstone, but she didn’t want to take her attention

  away from where she thought she’d seen something. Or someone.

  If it turned out to be the church cat, she’d feel so stupid.

  There it was again. The movement was slower this time, as

  though they were trying to avoid detection.

  ‘I can see you. I know you’re there. No point trying to hide,’

  Lizzie said, her voice sounding braver now: confident and strong.

  What first appeared to be a dark blob of a shadow, lengthened

  and spread – became solid. Lizzie’s mouth dried, her pulse

  pounding in her ears, drowning out any other sounds.

  ‘I think we’re here for the same reason,’ she said, making her

  way more quickly to the figure now. Lizzie’s hand trembled, the

  light from her phone wavering wildly, but she kept her arm

  outstretched.

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  ‘What makes you say that?’ A deep voice broke the silence, tore through the darkness. Lizzie suppressed a yelp of surprise,

  forcing her other hand across her mouth to prevent its escape.

  ‘Billy?’ she whispered.

  The man turned sharply and shot off, away from Lizzie, away

  from Rosie’s grave.

  ‘Don’t run, please. I want to speak to you.’

  The adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she was saying

  the wrong things. Frightening him away. But maybe that was a

  good thing. Was she really ready, or able, to face the man who’d

  ruined her life and those of so many other people?

  Calm the fuck down, Lizzie.

  She squeezed her eyes tight and took some steadying breaths.

  He’d disappeared, but without thinking, she shouted after him.

  ‘Dad! It’s Eliza. Your Eliza. I just want to see you.’

  The silence was fragmented by the odd chirp of crickets, but

  nothing else. He must have left via another gate. Her shoulders

  slumped. She was unsure as to why, but she felt disappointed.

  She’d missed her opportunity to confront him. But she’d been

  right – he had come back to Mapledon. Even if only in the dead of night to visit her mother’s grave. Maybe he’d come back again

  tomorrow night. But now he’d been rumbled, he might not risk

  coming back at all.

  Lizzie crouched in front of Rosie’s headstone, one hand on

  the cold granite.

  ‘I wish I could remember you, Mum,’ she whispered.

  Lizzie felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder and she fell

  sideways, her legs scrambling to get purchase on the earthy

  ground.

  ‘Shitting hell!’ she shouted.

  ‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ the man said,

  his hands up in front of him, fingers splayed indicating he came

  in peace.

  ‘Well, you did. I thought you’d gone.’

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  ‘I had, but I heard what you said, and it forced me to come back.’ He kept a comfortable distance between them, and Lizzie

  felt herself relax a little.

  ‘I had a feeling you’d be here.’

  ‘So, you’re Eliza, are you?’

  Lizzie caught his faint smile in the illumination of her phone

  light.

  ‘Yes. It’s been a long time, Dad.’

  Tears shone in his eyes and Lizzie was lost for a moment, she

  didn’t know what to say, how to be. She’d been told a great deal

  of second-hand information about a man she’d no memory of:

  the man now standing in front of her. Awful things, disturbing

  things. She felt unsure, wary. But she didn’t feel how she imagined she should – no fear, no disgust. This moment wasn’t as she’d

  expected. He wasn’t as she expected. It was dark, she knew, but he appeared younger than she’d imagined. He was grey, with a

  growth of stubble that suggested he hadn’t shaved in a few days,

  probably since his release – but he wasn’t old when she consid-

  ered he’d been in prison for thirty years. For all the things she’d wanted to say, had rehearsed so many times in her mind – now

  faced with William Cawley, she was lost for words.

  ‘I know you’ll remember the bad things. I suspect you hate

  me, or at least have grown up with hatred in your heart. But

  you’re here for a reason. What made you come looking for me

  after all this time?’

  ‘I guess I want the truth. Straight from the horse’s mouth.’

  ‘You could have got that if you’d visited me in prison. You

  could’ve known the truth years ago.’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t know then. I thought I knew the truth

  already, which meant there was no point seeing you. I didn’t

  want to put myself through it. Yes, I hated you. You ruined my

  life. You took away my childhood. Why would I even consider

  visiting a child murderer?’

  Billy frowned and made a deep, grunting sound, like a hurt

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  animal. Lizzie noted his fists were balled, by his sides. She may have misjudged this situation. Put herself in the direct line of

  fire.

  ‘What’s changed?’

  ‘I came here. And since I stepped foot in this village, I’ve seen things differently.’

  He nodded, a smile playing on his lips.

  Was she being naive?

  ‘If it’s the truth you want, it’ll take some time. It’s not a short story. I suggest we do this in the daytime, somewhere neutral.

  I can’t be seen here.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s agree to meet later this afternoon. Where are you

  living?’

  ‘I’ve got a caravan. It’s on a farmer’s land on the outskirts of

  Bovey Tracey. Close enough to secretly visit Rosie’s grave, but

  far enough to keep within my restrictions.’

  Lizzie didn’t like the sound of it. Too remote to be on her

  own
with Billy Cawley. Whilst she had the overwhelming feeling

  there was more to what had happened than had ever been told,

  she also believed there was no smoke without fire. He might

  not be responsible for the murder of Jonie Hayes, but he might

  still be responsible for the abuse she’d been told she’d suffered as a child. She couldn’t put too much trust in him.

  ‘I’m staying at Bulleigh Barton B&B. It’s a little way—’

  ‘Yes, I know of it.’ He took a moment to mull it over, then

  agreed to meet the following day after he’d reported in with his

  probation officer. Lizzie watched as he left, then took the oppo-

  site path and quickly got in her car and drove off.

  She’d met her father. After thirty years. For the moment,

  Lizzie didn’t quite know how to feel about it. And a nagging

  feeling tugging on her insides told her she might have made a

  huge mistake letting him into her life again.

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  Chapter Fifty-One

  1989

  Brook Cottage Store

  Tuesday 20th June – 29 days before

  ‘Can I go and play with Eliza?’

  ‘Robert Andrews, what have I told you about coming into

  the shop when Mummy’s working?’

  ‘Dad’s not home yet,’ he said, as though that should answer

  the question.

  ‘Hang on there a second, please. Wait until I’ve finished

  serving Mrs Fisher.’

  Robert did as he was asked, stepping away from the counter.

  He pressed his back against the newspaper stand so he was out

  of the way and he stood still, straining to hear what Mrs Fisher

  was whispering to his mum. He heard ‘not a good idea’, but

  that was all. Grown-ups were weird. He eyed the shelf of penny

  sweets opposite, and decided while he waited he’d get a selection for him and Eliza to share. He picked out some sherbet flying

  saucers, dropping them into the white paper bag. Then added

  some fizzy cola bottles, his absolute fave, and some fried eggs.

  He was about to pop in a candy lipstick for Eliza when his

  mother shouted for him. He quickly shoved them in, hid the

  bag behind his back, and went back to the counter.

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  ‘I’m sorry, love,’ his mother said looking at him, her head to one side. Robert knew it was going to be a ‘no’.

  ‘Why not?’ His voice came out like a girly whine. He looked

  down at the floor.

  ‘It’s just not a good idea at the moment. You know she lost

  her mummy not very long ago . . .’

  ‘I know. We had an assembly about it.’ Robert looked up to

  Nell, his expression thoughtful. ‘Which is why it is a good idea, Mum. It can be “a very lonely time” – it’s important she has

  friends to help her.’ Robert watched his mother’s face intently.

  Tears shone brightly in her eyes, but they didn’t fall out.

  ‘Robert, you are such a kind little boy. I’m so proud of you.

  But for now, I would like it if you’d wait a while. Until things

  settle a little for Eliza and her dad. I think they need time to

  heal. Do you understand?’

  ‘Not really. And it’s sad because she doesn’t have any friends.

  If you died, I’d want someone to be kind to me.’

  Mrs Fisher, who’d been standing there the whole time,

  suddenly butted in.

  ‘Robert, you need to listen to the adults. We know more than

  you do.’

  Robert curled his lip – he hadn’t meant to, it just happened.

  He doubted they did know more . Why did grown-ups think they knew it all? He’d lost this battle though, that was obvious.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, sulkily. ‘I’ll go back into the house then.’

  Tucking the hand holding the bag of sweets into his trouser

  pocket, he retreated. Sometimes he was allowed to take some

  things from the shop, like last week when his mum told him to

  take two Pot Noodles for himself and Nick for an after-school

  snack. But he had to have permission. He couldn’t ask for it

  now – she’d see right through him and know he was taking

  sweets for Eliza. Robert had already made his mind up he was

  going anyway. His mum would be in the shop working for

  another two hours at least, and his dad wasn’t due home from

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  work at the local brewery until seven. There was plenty of time to sneak out, see Eliza, and get back before anyone knew he’d

  been gone.

  His heart beat so hard as he crept out the back door. He was

  careful not to be seen by any adults, particularly those heading

  towards the shop – he didn’t want them to dob him in. He’d

  made sure he’d given enough time for Mrs Fisher to have walked

  down the road – she was so nosy and annoying – she’d definitely rat on him if she saw him leaving.

  Eliza’s house wasn’t far from the shop; it wouldn’t take him

  long to reach it. He’d only ever been there with some of the

  older kids when they’d knocked on Creepy Cawley’s door and

  run away. Robert felt scared now as the bungalow came into

  sight at the end of the cul-de-sac. He knew the things people

  said about Eliza’s dad, but he wasn’t sure they were true. Even

  so, his tummy twisted and bubbled as he approached. Creepy

  Cawley’s red truck was in the gravelled driveway. He really hoped Eliza was outside playing. That way he wouldn’t have to knock

  on the door and ask for her.

  Robert hesitated by the front wall; his hands were hot in his

  pockets, the paper bag of sweets felt warm and squidgy. Eliza

  wasn’t in the garden. He stood, unable to go forwards yet unable

  to walk away either. He’d come this far; he had to be brave

  enough to knock. He wished he knew which window Eliza’s

  bedroom was. He’d just knock on that and she’d probably come

  outside.

  He heard the word, chicken, repeated in his head.

  Come on. Do it.

  His hand was raised, inches from the door before he realised

  he’d even walked up the path. He had a moment of sheer panic

  as his knuckles rapped on the glass. What was he doing here,

  really? He’d never even spoken to Eliza before – most of the

  kids at school picked on her, said she was weird like her dad,

  and ‘one sandwich short of a picnic’. And even Robert agreed

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  she was. Eliza was bound to tell him to go away now, and if she didn’t, her father surely would. He was so stupid. His mum and

  Mrs Fisher were right. It wasn’t a good idea to be here.

  There was no answer anyway, so Robert turned his back, his

  legs ready to make a run for it. But what if Creepy Cawley

  thought he was playing Knock, Knock, Ginger? He’d chase him

  down the street. Robert dithered on the step, not sure what to

  do.

  Stay. Grow up. You’re almost ten years old, not a baby.

  He knocked again, then shut his eyes tight. His heart was

  going to leap out fro
m his chest any minute. A breeze swept

  across his face at the same time he heard a whooshing noise.

  The front door had been opened so quickly he’d felt the move-

  ment of air. He held his breath, for good measure, and waited

  for the shouting to begin.

  ‘Open your eyes, boy!’ A booming voice came from in front

  of him. Robert’s eyes sprung open. A pain in his groin gripped

  him and he held onto himself in the hope he wasn’t about to

  pee his pants.

  ‘What do you want?’ Creepy Cawley’s frown seemed to take

  up his entire face – creases upon creases, making him look like

  a scary old man. No wonder all the kids were afraid of him. Up

  close he was even worse than how Robert had imagined him.

  An ogre, even. Robert opened his mouth, but only a squeak

  came from it.

  ‘I – er . . . I—’

  ‘Spit it out, boy! If you’re meant to be playing that stupid

  game, I’m afraid you’ve not grasped the point. You’re meant to

  knock, then run away?’ He raised both eyebrows, displaying

  wide, dark eyes.

  ‘I’m not . . . I wasn’t playing it.’

  ‘So? Again, what do you want? I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘I wanted to see Eliza,’ Robert managed to say through his

  tightening throat.

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  ‘What for?’

  Robert put his hand in his pocket and took the crumpled

  bag out, holding it up towards Creepy Cawley. ‘I brought her

  some sweets.’ His voice sounded weak. Scared. He coughed and

  took a deep breath before speaking again. ‘My teacher said it’s

  nice to do things for other people when they’re sad.’ He dared

  to look into the man’s eyes and give a small smile.

  ‘Right. I see.’ Creepy Cawley nodded, slowly, and Robert

  thought he saw the hint of a smile on the man’s thin lips. ‘You’d better come in, then.’ And he swung the door open wider to let

  Robert walk inside.

  Robert swallowed his fear and took a step into the hallway.

  He couldn’t hear Eliza’s voice. He really hoped she was home.

  The door slammed loudly behind him.

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  Chapter Fifty-Two

  2019

  Anna

  Tuesday 16th July

  The fact her mother was hiding the letters from her made Anna

  wonder what else she was keeping secret. What could possibly