‘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.’
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.
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 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.
Chapter Nine
1989
Bovey Police Station
Friday 21st July
‘Now, this is important. Tell me exactly what you saw.’
She sat on her hands. They’d begun trembling when the policeman had first started asking questions; now, after what felt like hours, he was still asking her stuff and a funny tingling had filled her belly. Why did she need to go over this? She’d told him again and again. Maybe he didn’t believe her. She’d have to say it in a stronger voice.
‘The truck stopped in front of where we were walking—’
‘Which was Elmore Road,’ he interrupted.
‘Yes, I thi— I mean, yes. It was.’ She mustn’t say ‘think’; it seemed to make her mum and the policeman a bit jumpy. ‘I held back and was going to turn around and take the cut-through to go to the park instead, but before I realised, she’d gone.’
‘Gone to the truck?’
‘Yes. I don’t know why she did that. Why she left me.’ Her eyes stung with fresh tears.
‘And what did this truck look like?’
She was somewhat relieved at being asked this; at least it was a different question to the other ones he’d been constantly getting her to repeat.
‘It was a red one,’ she said with conviction. ‘Dad says those types of trucks are called pickups because they have all that open space at the back to put things in.’
‘And what else? Was there anything else about it you can remember?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She felt confident about this now. ‘It had a yellow stripe all the way across the side. And as it pulled off, it turned so it almost went past me. I couldn’t move. I was scared he was coming for me too.’
‘But he didn’t try and take you?’
‘No, I don’t think so. The truck slowed down, but it didn’t stop. But I did see something weird.’
The policeman sat forward in his chair, his round, ruddy face lighting up. ‘Yes? What was that?’
‘I could see something stuck on the front, on the bit that those red noses for cars go for Comic Relief.’
‘The grille,’ the policeman said as he scribbled in his notebook. ‘But it wasn’t a red nose?’
‘No. I could see a face. It was a doll’s head. Just its head.’
Chapter Ten
2019
Anna
Saturday 13th July
Pulling up outside her mother’s house again, Anna noted the doll’s head had finally been removed – holes from the nails the only sign something had been there; the only indication she hadn’t imagined it. She wished that had been the case. Because the alternative was far more disturbing.
Anna cautiously entered the house and rested the bag of groceries on the kitchen worktop. She didn’t speak to Muriel; for the moment she was rehearsing the possible permutations of the conversation she needed to have with her mum in her head. It was a difficult subject to broach, and it required thought. The weighing up of the consequences of opening Pandora’s box weren’t only for her mother’s benefit, she too had to be careful. Years’ worth of self-preservation could easily be unravelled with a single poorly worded question.
As Anna slowly stored each item from the carrier bag into the cupboards and fridge, memories forced their way into her consciousness. She squeezed her eyes up tight, an attempt to prevent the images taking root. As she opened them again, she turned to where her mum was sitting. Muriel was staring at her.
‘You heard then,’ Muriel said, her eyes wide, unblinking. ‘The gossips at the shop, no doubt.’ There was a flatness to her tone; resignation.
At least Anna was let off the hook of being the first one to mention it, the first to dredge up the past.
‘Yes. I heard. It was on the front of the paper too.’ She was going to ask if that’s why her mum had immediately called her, as soon as she heard the news. But she hoped, by not embellishing, that Muriel would carry on the conversation without the need for Anna to intervene with questions. Possibly the wrong questions – those that would hurt and upset, rather than those that would help tease out her fears. Although Anna wasn’t sure she was the right one to be doing that, or, in fact, whether she could offer any real support at all. Because her mum’s fears were more than likely the same as her own. How helpful could she be if she was scared shitless too?
‘It could still be a coincidence, or kids thinking it’s funny?’ Muriel said.
‘Yes, it could.’ Anna tried to feel encouraged. ‘Obviously everyone knows the tale – I expect it’s been told to all the children as a warning over the years. Some teenagers are bound to have thought it was funny to pull this kind of prank. Yes, you’re right. Probably harmless fun.’ A false lightness attached itself to her words. It could be kids, it really could.
‘That’s what I was hoping. Of course, that isn’t what I thought when I first saw it. But I talked myself down, eventually. And once you got here, I felt a bit better about it.’
‘Okay then. Look, it’s not ideal that he’s out, but like Robert said, why would he dare come back here?’
‘Nell’s son Robert?’
‘Yes, he was the one who served me.’
‘No Nell this morning, then?’
‘Ill apparently. He said she’d been feeling under the weather.’
Her mother’s gaze turned to the window as she gave a hmmm sound.
‘You think she’s also worried?’
‘What?’ Muriel’s attention snapped back to Anna. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone since I heard.’
‘Who told you, then?’
Muriel heaved herself up from the chair and wandered into the living room.
‘Mum?’
‘I got a call, don’t know who it was from.’
‘Really? Well, when?’
‘Four days ago. The day he was released supposedly.’
‘Was it him?’
‘No. No, dear, I think it was probably a journalist or some such person. Anyway, doesn’t matter. It’s how we deal with it, how we move on from here, knowing. Knowing that man is free. Free to do what he bloody well pleases. Can’t believe they let the monster out, can you?’
‘Unfortunately, life rarely means life, Mum. I guess he did his time.’ Anna shrugged. ‘It’s not like they ever found a body even, is it?’
And that had always been the issue; the underlying question the family and villagers had wanted answered.
Where had he hidden her body?
Chapter Eleven
2019
Lizzie
She’d needed the satnav to reach Mapledon. It wasn’t where she remembered it, but that was to be expected; she’d only been a child when she was taken from the village. It was situated south of Dartmoor – with its imposing granite rocks and sprawling moorland – and tucked away in a valley ten miles from the nearest town. What felt like hours of winding lanes, long hills and dense woodlands had passed before she’d finally come to a wider road leading to a sign stating she’d reached Mapledon.
Years of living in other parts of the country had diluted what memories of the place she’d had. Now, driving at a snail’s pace through the centre of the small village, passing a spattering of old thatched-roof cottages, then a few larger, more modern houses, Lizzie’s heart rate soared. So far she hadn’t recognised anything. It wasn’t lack of familiarity that was causing her adrenaline to shoot through her veins, though. It was the thought of what went on here. It was being back. If Dom had known any of her history, he’d have stopped her from leaving. But he didn’t know. Her childhood secrets were hers alone. Well, almost.
There were some other people who knew.
Would they still be here, living in Mapledon?
Would he be here, waiting?
The reason she’d driven all this way was to find out, but now she was here the urge to turn around and leave, go back to her life in Abbingsworth, was so strong she could feel the pull. She should allow herself to be snatched from this place again – she didn’t belong here.
Her foot remained on the accelerator. There was still a part of her – the part that had been in the shadow for years – which couldn’t succumb to the pull. That side of her had to keep going regardless.
Thirty years. She cursed loudly. ‘Fuck this place. It doesn’t define me. That man does not define me.’ She slammed her hands on the steering wheel, an action supporting her determination as she headed to the top of the hill. To the church. It was the first place she decided she’d go – the only landmark she could see. With luck the vicar might be there – he’d know what was going on in his parish. He’d be the best person to start with.
She could do this.
She had to close the book on William Cawley.
Chapter Twelve
1989
Brook Cottage Store, Mapledon
Thursday 20th July – the day after
Fears grow for missing child
Despite an extensive search of Mapledon and the surrounding area by police and over thirty local villagers, ten-year-old Jonie Hayes has still not been found. She has been missing for almost twenty-four hours and police say they are concerned for her safety. An appeal is due to be launched by Devon and Cornwall Police later today.
‘Such terrible news. I still can’t believe a little ’un could just disappear like that. Not here,’ Nell said, packing the tins into Mrs Percy’s shopping bag on the store counter.
‘We’re in shock. The whole village is.’
‘Well, almost the whole village,’ Muriel said, pushing forward in the queue to interject, her voice lowered conspiratorially.
‘Are you thinking what I am? About … you know who?’ Nell asked. A few other customers joined the women, even though they weren’t in the queue themselves.
‘Well, you can’t help but consider it, can you? I mean, after what happened to his little girl …’ Muriel raised one eyebrow in a high arc and stood back a little from the gathering villagers. ‘I’m just saying – I mean he wasn’t even out last night helping search for Jonie with all the others, was he? Wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with it, is all.’ She tilted her chin up.
‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It’s not helpful, Muriel.’ A voice came from behind her, causing her to start. Muriel spun around to face Reverend Farnley.
‘I’m not one to do that, Reverend.’ She kept her gaze steady. ‘Have you seen him over the last few days?’
‘Muriel. Please. Gossip is a tool of the devil. Be careful, now.’
‘It’s not gossip if it’s true, Reverend. And I didn’t even mention his name, but you knew who we were referring to …’ Muriel pursed her lips.
‘Now I think of it, I haven’t seen him, you’re right,’ Nell piped up in Muriel’s defence, before the red-faced vicar could respond. ‘Whilst it’s not helpful to gossip, it would be wrong to dismiss something that might actually be key. A little girl’s life is at stake, after all.’
‘There’s no evidence to suggest she’s been taken, ladies, or that her life is in danger; she could merely be lost,’ Reverend Farnley said. ‘Anyway, I’m sure the police have a good handle on things. We should leave them to their job. But we can pray for young Jonie’s safe return – put our faith in the Lord.’
Muriel turned away from the Reverend, directing the rolling of her eyes and small shake of her head to Nell and the remaining group of women. She’d been brought up to be God-fearing; however, some situations required a helping hand from those on earth. In Muriel’s opinion, God could only do so much and putting all your faith in Him was a mistake. Surely, He’d want His children to sort their own mess out occasionally.
After a few polite statements the conversation turned to the Mapledon Meeting and Reverend Farnley took his leave. Muriel and Nell took turns to head the monthly get-together, the venue alternating between their houses. It normally took place on the last Thursday of each month; however, they’d brought it forward this time – both having agreed it was somewhat of an ‘emergency meeting’. A small, select group of female villagers attended, usually twelve, but sometimes more if there was something pressing to discuss. Like now. Admittedly, this was one of the most pressing topics that had ever faced the group – although there’d been other challenging ones, Jonie Hayes’ disappearance was the worst. The mothers of the group in particular were very concerned and would need support and reassurance.
‘See you at seven-thirty sharp, Nell. I’ll make sure I put out extra nibbles – it’s going to be a busy one.’
Chapter Thirteen
2019
Anna
Saturday 13th July
‘Hiding in here, worrying, isn’t very productive.’ Anna lowered the curtain, moving away from the lounge window to face Muriel. Since her disclosure she’d been quiet, barely speaking. Instead, she’d watched daytime TV, a blank look plastered on her face. Anna knew if she couldn’t put her mother’s mind at ease – if she couldn’t confidently tell her that the doll’s head was nothing to do with Billy Cawley – this would drag on; hang over their heads for the foreseeable future. Anna did not want to spend more time in Mapledon. Maybe she’d have to persuade her mum to move nearer to her and Carrie in Bristol.
‘What do you propose I do? March around the village accusing the local kids of trespass, criminal damage?’
‘Well, no. Although going to the police with your suspicions would be a start.’
‘I told you, Anna – I’m not going to the police.’ She looked past Anna, into the distance. ‘That’ll make matters worse.’
‘For who? The kids? That’s the idea, Mum. And if it isn’t the kids …’
‘It’ll be him,’ Muriel said.
‘The police will be able to keep an eye on things. On him. He’ll be on a life licence. Something like this would put him straight back to prison.’
‘Or, it could stir up a hornet’s nest,’ Muriel said, her face stony.
That was the problem with small villages. Anna had always sensed it growing up, but now it was even more apparent. One event could cause a ripple effect – what should be contained within a family unit suddenly became the business of every person in the village. Everyone had something to say; some advice to give, solutions to problems to offer. Whether wanted or not. If word got out that Muriel thought the children of Mapledon were responsible for the macabre doll’s head, then she was right – accusations would fly, uptight members of the community would be up in arms. The local council would probably seek to lay down a curfew – the teenagers would rebel. The situation would likely worsen. And then Muriel would become the sole focus of attention. But then, maybe she had already.
Why had she been targeted?
If it really was him, then this was just the start. Anna remembered that at the time every villager had been horrified at what had happened. Everyone had named Billy Cawley.
‘I think I’ll get some fresh air, Mum.’ Anna couldn’t sit inside the house waiting for the next ‘gift’ to be delivered to Muriel’s door. It might be that others had received something similar. A walk around the village might well give her an opportunity to find out if anything else was amiss in Mapledon.
Muriel squinted at Anna. ‘I – I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Not on your own.’
She tried to ignore her mother’s deepening frown as she bent to kiss the top of her head. ‘Mum. It’s daylight. I’m a grown woman – I’ll be fine!’
‘I didn’t ask you to come here on a mission to track down the culprit, Anna. I just wanted you here to be with me.’
‘I can’t stay cooped up. And I’m not tracking anyone down, I’m going for a walk.’
Muriel sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. ‘Don’t be long, then.’
Taking in her mother’s anxious expression, she realised Muriel’s concern was not entirely for Anna. It was for herself. She didn’t want to be alone in the house, just in case.
‘I won’t be. And I’ve got my mobile. Call me immediately if …’ Anna trailed off.
‘You get a full signal here?’ Muriel straightened in her chair, her tone panicked.
‘Well, not full, no,’ Anna said. She couldn’t very well lie. She’d assumed there would be areas where the signal dipped, became non-existent even. It was a small village in a valley on the outskirts of Dartmoor; it was to be expected. ‘But I’ll never be far away, will I? God, it’ll only take fifteen minutes to walk an entire circuit of this place.’
‘It took less time than that for someone to abduct Jonie Hayes,’ she said bluntly.
Anna ignored the comment and left, grabbing a hoody from the hall bannister despite the warmth of the day. With the hood up, she’d maybe remain anonymous as she walked through the village. Taking a right at the end of Muriel’s road, Anna headed down Fore Street. The only houses – three cottages in a row – were situated just before the road ended and joined what was the main road of Mapledon: the one that led to the church. No one was about. The cottages appeared normal as she passed. But then, had there been anything hammered to their doors, no doubt it’d been removed by now. Anna wasn’t really expecting to see anything remotely strange: no doll’s heads. Not really. But still, she looked. Or, maybe she was hoping to see something. She could take some comfort then; there’d be a shared fear, rather than an isolated one.
As she ambled up towards the church, passing other equally unremarkable homes along Bridge Street, Anna found herself at the entrance to one of the cul-de-sacs that ran off it. Blackstone Close. Curiosity made her turn into it and begin walking to the end.
She stopped outside the final bungalow. The paint was peeling, the plaster crumbling. The garden was overgrown. Even in daylight there was something sinister about it. There’d been calls from angry, grieving villagers for it to be demolished afterwards. But the formidable local councillors had come up against more red tape than they could cut through. So, it had stood. Empty for thirty years. Like some strange kind of mausoleum.
Anna couldn’t help but wonder about the man who lived there.
Would he really come back?
Was he inside it now?
Her heart jolted at the thought. She wanted to turn and walk away, but her feet remained planted. She took her hands from her hoody pockets and reached out slowly towards the wall. A voice made her snatch it away again.
‘Hi, Bella. I thought you might come calling now.’
Chapter Fourteen
2019
Lizzie
Lizzie was parked just outside the church gate, eyes fixed on the entrance, her resolve wavering. There were no regular services on a Saturday – she hadn’t given that a thought when she’d decided the church was the best place to start. Perhaps the vicar would still be inside, though. There might’ve been a wedding. Or a funeral. Doubtful, though. Surely her luck wouldn’t be that great. If she didn’t brave it, get out the damn car and take a look, she’d never know. But a sudden fear that her faith in the vicar was misplaced – that he’d be unable to help her at all – caused her to hesitate. It was unlikely to be the same vicar as thirty years ago, and certain events tended to cause a tight community such as Mapledon to clam up, to decide it was too hideous, too abominable to ever speak of again. A new vicar might not have any knowledge of what had happened. And Lizzie couldn’t remember the name of the original one. Couldn’t remember many names at all.
Just the three.
She unconsciously pulled at her hair, collecting several short, black strands in her palm whilst berating herself for not having spent some time researching before jumping in her car and setting off. That was a mistake. Local vicar aside, who would she approach to answer her questions? She brushed the hair into the footwell and sighed, the sound loud in the quiet car. Maybe the how was something she should’ve also given more thought to. Lizzie hadn’t considered what effect her presence in Mapledon would have. She could be a “nobody” – her name was different now, after all – but that in itself wouldn’t help her. She doubted Mapledon had many random visitors. A stranger in the fold would spark interest, prompt caution. A closing of the ranks.
Outsiders are not to be trusted.
They wouldn’t knowingly divulge anything to an outsider. But, equally, she couldn’t tell anyone who she really was, either; who she used to be. She had the sinking feeling her trip here would be a waste of time. Where was she even going to stay? She was in the middle of nowhere and it didn’t seem as if Airbnb was an option. She really hadn’t thought this through.
Just drive back home, back to safety. Back to Dom.
Lizzie watched as two women emerged from the church gate, one holding a pair of shears. They’d likely been tending to a grave. A pain gripped her stomach. She pushed her hands into it, clutching at the skin with her fingertips, and closed her eyes. A vision of a woman swam inside the darkness: a blurry-edged picture void of facial features. Because she couldn’t remember any. Tears slipped over her cheeks and ran under her chin.
