Her mother was buried in this graveyard.
Or, so she’d been told – she’d never seen for herself. A long-suppressed anger began to bubble. The details surrounding Rosie’s death were vague in Lizzie’s mind, what happened afterwards patchy at best. She just knew she’d experienced a lot of rage back then – an emotion she’d been unable to channel appropriately. Something she still struggled with if she ever came up against the red flags.
Maybe now was the time to change that.
Perhaps the need for change was what had drawn her back to Mapledon.
Chapter Fifteen
1989
Mapledon
Wednesday 19th July – the day of, 8.25 p.m.
In the humid summer evening, circles of lights darted over grass, whizzed over hillsides, flitted under bushes and dotted the darkening sky – like a frenzied firefly dance. But the display didn’t come from a swarm of fireflies, it came from the illumination of dozens of torchlights.
‘Jonie! Joniiiieee!’
Jonie’s name was called again and again, each time more frantic. Desperate. One voice could be heard above others, its pitch ripping through the night, tearing through the eardrums of the volunteers, the police.
Tina Hayes’ legs were weakening; her voice was not. Sheer adrenaline kept her powering forwards, her desire to find her daughter overtaking her need to slow down, rest.
‘Tina?’ Pat Vern ran up to her, putting a sweaty hand on her arm to stop her marching on. ‘I’m not sure … it’s a good idea … for you to be here.’ The police officer panted, his shallow breaths diminishing his ability to form a full sentence.
‘What would you have me do, Pat? Stay at home like the good little woman, waiting to see if someone else finds her?’ Tina put her hands on the tops of her thighs, taking the moment to catch her breath, allowing the blood to flow through her limbs again. ‘Is that what you’d do if it were Daisy?’
Pat, recovered now from the acute exertion, couldn’t argue with her. He never had been able to put up a fight where Tina Hayes was concerned.
‘I know. I know you think you should be doing everything to find her, and I understand, I really do. But what if she …’ He paused. What he was thinking was: what if you’re the one to find her and she’s dead? He couldn’t bear that. The last image she’d have of her only daughter would be a horrifying one – one she’d never rid herself of. But why was he thinking that at all – why would she be dead? This was Mapledon for Christ’s sake. He’d been on the force ten years and nothing remotely bad had ever happened here, so this would end happily, he was sure.
Only he wasn’t.
His gut was telling him something else – something evil – was at play. He didn’t know why, but he felt it. He realised Tina was waiting for him to finish his sentence, impatiently stepping from one foot to the other as she stared at him, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. He pulled himself together. ‘What if Jonie goes home – who’s going to be there if everyone is outside searching?’
‘Do you think she’ll turn up at home, Pat, as though nothing has happened – like she’d just lost track of the time? Come on. We both know she didn’t just forget the time. Her friends are all home, we’ve checked. So, it’s not as though she’d been having too much fun or gone off with one of them somewhere and wandered too far out of Mapledon. She’s not a dumb kid, Pat.’
‘I know she’s not dumb.’ Pat dropped his gaze to his shoes. Now wasn’t the time to mention what he’d heard about Jonie. ‘Okay, come on. Let’s press on. I don’t want to waste any more time – it’s going to be too dark to continue in an hour or so.’
‘You might think so,’ Tina said sharply, shaking her head. ‘But I’ll be out here looking all night if I have to. Every night. I won’t stop until I find her.’
And she strode off.
Chapter Sixteen
2019
Anna
Saturday 13th July
Anna froze; the voice – soft, haunted – causing her heart to stutter.
If people had called her Bella afterwards, she’d ignored them. And, through her own choice, no one had called her that since she’d left Mapledon. She couldn’t bear to hear it, didn’t like to recall the memories associated with it. The last time her friend uttered it. Hearing it now transported her back to a time and place she never wanted to be reminded of.
‘Creepy Cawley, Creepy Cawley …’
The hushed whisper, the goading chant, filled her skull. She shook her head, trying to shake the ghostly voice from it. But as much as she wanted to run, not look back, this was one villager she couldn’t ignore. She turned around.
‘Hello, Auntie Tina,’ she said. ‘I go by Anna these days.’
Tina’s face flinched, her chin tilting up. ‘Right, sure. Annabella was always a mouthful, and Anna is more grown up than Bella. Lovely that you were able to do that – grow up, I mean.’ The words, edged with an iciness, made Anna shiver. She couldn’t blame her for her cutting tone.
Anna opened her mouth but closed it again. For the moment, she couldn’t think of a single thing Tina would want to hear. She fleetingly considered giving her a hug, but the years that had passed created a gulf between them; what had happened thirty years ago ensured the chasm was too wide to bridge with such an action. Tina was about five years younger than Muriel, but if Anna had thought the years had been unkind to her mum, they’d been downright cruel to Auntie Tina – her wrinkled skin had a grey hue to it, her dyed blonde hair was thin and patchy, making her eyes seem pale, almost albino.
Anna gazed back towards Billy Cawley’s old bungalow, the memory of the game Knock, Knock, Ginger making her skin crawl. They’d been having innocent fun, hadn’t they? Being here now, she could envisage the two of them like she was seeing the imprints of their younger selves. Ghostly figures. She’d not allowed herself to think about Jonie for a really long time before today. But she knew, despite not consciously remembering her, what had happened that sunny afternoon was part of her. Had affected her more than she’d ever cared to admit to. Now, facing Tina, everything rose to the surface. Tears slid down her face.
‘Don’t. Don’t cry. Tears won’t help anyone,’ Tina said.
She’d created a shell, one that had hardened over time. They all had.
‘Sorry.’ Anna brushed the tears away with her fingertips. One word, weighted with guilt, years in the making. Not once had she uttered that word when it happened.
It wasn’t her fault, after all.
But Tina thinks it was.
‘Why are you back?’
Instinct told Anna not to mention the doll’s head.
‘Came to see Mum.’
‘Never bothered before.’
‘No, well – being the anniversary year …’ Anna felt herself cringe; she dropped her gaze.
‘So, you thought you’d come back to where it all began?’ Tina swept an arm out in front of her, indicating the bungalow. ‘Got a guilty conscience?’
And there it was. Thirty years on, the man responsible having served time in prison, and still Anna was getting the blame. Well, she wasn’t that little girl anymore: the meek, mild-mannered pushover Bella. She was Anna, and she’d had to work hard to overcome her weaknesses; she’d worked hard to heal the mental scars left behind.
‘No,’ she said firmly, shaking her head. ‘Have you?’
Chapter Seventeen
2019
Lizzie
She didn’t know where to begin looking for the grave, or even if she should. Voluntarily opening old wounds probably wasn’t wise. But then, coming here seeking him out wasn’t a wise decision either. Yet, here she was. Facing her demons.
As she slowly lifted the metal latch and stepped through the wooden gate into the church grounds, Lizzie shivered. It’d only been a gentle breeze brushing against her skin – a warm one at that – but it had triggered hundreds of goose bumps to appear on her pale, freckly arms. It was like a ghost had touched her. Walking briskly to the church door, Lizzie put all thoughts of ghosts to the back of her mind. The door creaked loudly as she opened it. Inside was silent. Cool. Empty, as far as she could tell. Flowers adorned the ends of each pew and at the altar stood a huge display of white lilies, daisies and aster – all left over from a wedding, she presumed.
A stray memory came to her. She’d been inside this church before. Sunday school – she remembered being at a small table at the back, sitting with other children. She’d gone a few times, but then something had happened; there’d been a reason she stopped attending. But what was it? She filed the memory away with all the other half-formed, blurry memories of her early childhood.
There was no sign of a vicar. Lizzie ducked outside again and wandered to the far side of the graveyard; she’d work her way backwards to the entrance. It wasn’t a huge area – the village had always been small. Many of the headstones were old and tilting, the writing faded. It shouldn’t take too long to find Rosie’s. She read the names of those she could decipher as she moved around. None of them caused a memory to stir. Until one; the name on it making Lizzie’s blood chill in her veins.
Jonie Hayes.
One of the three names she did remember.
She hurried on past it, not wishing to linger. Not wanting to ‘go there’ yet. It was too early – she wasn’t ready. One step at a time.
The air seemed to still as she approached the grey, granite headstone that bore her mother’s name. Lizzie crouched beside her mum, eyes tightly squeezed, trying desperately to remember something. Anything about her mother. Nothing came to her. It could be because she was trying to force it – if she relaxed, didn’t try so hard, something might come.
For the moment, she could only recall a snippet of one memory.
The day her mum gave her Polly.
Chapter Eighteen
1989
Mapledon
Tuesday 18th July – the day before
‘Be back for lunch, Bella. And no going near Blackstone Close, you hear me?’
Her mother’s shrill voice followed Bella out of the house. She called back over her shoulder, ‘No, Mum. I won’t!’ rolling her eyes towards Jonie to prove she thought her mother’s warning was something she found annoying. She didn’t. She really wanted to do as her mum told her – going to Blackstone Close made her skin creep.
Of course, they would end up there, though. They usually did – even during term-time. Now they’d broken up from school, she knew it’d be where Jonie would want to go for the next six weeks. Jonie put up her usual convincing argument so they’d do what she wanted them to do. Said that it was more fun to goad Creepy Cawley than to waste the summer staying in playing stupid Barbie or watching TV. Bella had failed to impress her friend with her entertainment ideas. She’d wanted to make up some dance routines – ones like they’d been doing in PE at school. Miss Hanson had told Bella that she had “flair”, whatever that meant. But she knew it was good. She didn’t receive many compliments, so this was something she’d taken on board and wanted to build on during the holiday. She, Bella, was actually good at something.
‘Come on, then. I’ve found a way through the back of the close, so he won’t see us coming,’ Jonie said, her eyes wide with excitement. Bella forced a smile. She didn’t get why Jonie thought it was so thrilling to knock on someone’s door and run away. It was childish. And pretty stupid. She couldn’t tell Jonie that, though.
A few minutes later, they were squeezing through a small gap at the bottom of some bushes at the back of Blackstone Close. Jonie got through first and helped drag Bella through. The twigs scraped at her bare legs.
‘Ouch! Mind.’
‘Shh, Bella. Someone will hear us.’ Jonie looked down at Bella’s legs and tutted.
Bella rubbed at them. If she ripped her shorts, her mum would be mad. She hoped they wouldn’t go back through the bushes when they were done.
They crouched down, across from the bungalow.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Bella asked, wishing she were anywhere but there.
‘Well, we need to make sure he isn’t watching before we go in, don’t we?’ Jonie shook her head. She had a way of making Bella feel stupid, shutting down anything she said immediately.
‘Yes, course,’ Bella said, as though she knew that.
Bella stared at Creepy Cawley’s bungalow, silently praying he wasn’t in. But his truck was in the driveway, so he probably was. Her stomach churned, a thousand butterflies flitting around inside it. Her legs began to cramp in their crouching position. She was too afraid to tell Jonie; she’d have to put up with the pain.
‘So weird, isn’t it – having all those bits of dolls everywhere?’
It was weird. But then, that was why he’d got the nickname Creepy Cawley. That, and the way he looked: his straggly long hair, dirty clothes, dead-looking black eyes that stared right through you. Bella shuddered.
‘Yeah, why doesn’t he tidy it all up?’
‘Mum says it’s because he’s lost everything. She says he can’t be bothered with himself, or the bungalow, anymore.’
‘My mum said it was because he was a pee-da-something. That he lured kids there and did bad stuff to them.’ Bella swallowed hard. ‘Which is why we shouldn’t be here, Jonie. It’s dangerous.’ She’d said it in no more than a whisper – not wanting to go against what Jonie wanted. But she had to say something. She didn’t want to do this.
‘Nah – your mum doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s not dangerous. It’s funny! Everyone does it. I heard Adam telling Nicky at school that him and John had knocked on his door dozens of times, and the worst that happened is Creepy Cawley chased them.’
‘Oh.’ Bella thought that was bad. Adam and John were quick, Bella was not – she always came last in the sprint races at school. What if he chased after them and caught them? What then?
‘Right, I think it’s clear. Let’s go.’ Jonie was up and running across to the bungalow.
Bella watched as Jonie ducked behind the dustbin just inside Creepy Cawley’s driveway. She frantically waved an arm towards Bella.
If she thought this was it – the only time they’d do this – she’d feel a bit better. She’d even be okay about it if they actually knocked on someone else’s door for a change. But Jonie had already told her they’d have to come again tomorrow, so they both had a turn at knocking on his door. It was only fair, Jonie had said.
Being Jonie’s friend was hard work, Bella thought, before taking a deep breath and following – just as she always did.
Chapter Nineteen
2019
Anna
Saturday 13th July
The two of them fell into an awkward silence, both standing motionless outside Billy Cawley’s run-down bungalow, neither looking the other in the eye. Anna lowered her chin, balling her hands up inside her hoody pockets. They’d all been so close, once. Muriel and Tina were best friends – they’d both been young mothers, as were their mothers before them, so they had a lot in common. That’s why Anna had always called her ‘Auntie’ Tina. It was a thing they did back then – the mothers’ good friends were always known to their kids’ friends as Auntie. It was inevitable Anna and Jonie would also be best friends. Obvious to the mothers, anyway. In reality, they weren’t destined to be close. They’d been too different: the balance was never right. But as their parents spent so much time together, they’d both taken it as something that just had to be.
‘I haven’t seen Muriel out and about in a while. She well?’ Tina broke the silence first.
Anna gave a shrug. ‘She’s okay, I guess.’ She didn’t want to give anything away – not just yet. Anna needed to delve a bit more before mentioning the doll’s head and Muriel’s strange behaviour since. She wondered if Tina and Muriel still spoke. After Jonie went missing their relationship had faltered – so her mum had told her once after one too many sherries. Muriel had never talked about what happened, how things had been in Mapledon afterwards, and Anna had never wanted to bring it up herself, so the memories faded. The aftermath had been bad, affecting the whole community – she knew that – but couldn’t recall any specific repercussions.
But she knew everything had changed when Jonie Hayes was taken.
‘Maybe we should all get together for a coffee while you’re here?’ Tina said.
Anna raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t been expecting that. Tina’s sudden invite felt forced, like it’d been offered out of necessity. Tina wanted something, she could tell. Had she also been targeted with a doll’s head on her door and now wanted, or needed, to talk to her old friend about it? They might not be close anymore, but maybe their shared past – the inexplicable thing that had happened – was more than enough to break down the barriers that had been built during the subsequent years.
‘Yeah, sure. Pop over tomorrow morning. If you aren’t going to church that is. Mum will be thrilled to see you,’ Anna said, although her sentiments may well have been exaggerated. Who knew if Muriel would be thrilled? God only knew what had been going on here over the years Anna had been away.
Tina snorted. ‘I don’t go to church anymore, haven’t done since …’ She shook her head. ‘There is no God. I’ll be over at ten.’ Tina gave a curt nod and walked off, back down the cul-de-sac. Anna watched her disappear around the corner before returning her attention to the bungalow. There was a reason Tina wanted to have this ‘get-together’ – the obvious one being Billy Cawley’s release. But a prickling on the back of Anna’s neck told her there was more to it than that.
Reassured for the moment that Billy Cawley had not returned to live in the bungalow in Blackstone Close, Anna turned her back on it and walked on. She wished she’d turned her back on it thirty years ago, too. Before the chain reaction of events following that game had become fatal. It seemed Anna’s life had been filled with what ifs and if onlys.
The church came into sight almost immediately once she’d joined the main street – its limestone-rendered tower visible through the trees. She’d walk as far as the church, checking the outside of every house as she went, then return to her mum’s via the road that branched off to the left, near the village hall. That way, she’d have done a circuit of Mapledon. Her hopes of finding something ‘out of place’ were fading, though. It might be that a more direct approach would be necessary – asking outright if anyone had experienced something out of the ordinary over the past few days. Anna thought Robert, at Brook Cottage Store, might be a good person to ask. For now, she’d continue the walk. If nothing else, it was keeping her out of her mother’s hair for a bit longer.
As Anna reached the top of the village and approached the church, she spotted a woman coming out of the wooden-gated entrance. She didn’t recognise her, although she didn’t look much different in age to Anna. Someone she went to school with? She kept her attention on the figure for a few seconds too long, garnering a strange look in response.
‘Hi,’ Anna said, deciding it would make the moment less awkward now she’d been caught staring.
‘All right?’ The woman gave a quick, tight smile, hesitating at the church gate as though she didn’t know quite what to do. Anna took her indecision and obvious discomfort as a sign of guilt. Had she stolen something from the church? Maybe she wasn’t from around here at all, was some kind of chancer. Anna took a few steps towards her. The woman didn’t have anything with her, not even a bag. Her T-shirt was tight-fitting – so no stolen goods could be squirrelled away beneath it. She had various tattoos on both arms, a piercing under her bottom lip. As she looked at her face, Anna noted her eyes were red as though she’d been crying, and she suddenly felt appalled at herself for jumping to conclusions. Clearly she was upset – had probably just visited a grave.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to stare – just thought I recognised you,’ Anna lied.
‘No. I doubt that,’ the woman said. She made no attempt to move past Anna. She took it as a signal to continue.
‘Not many people come to Mapledon,’ Anna said. ‘Not if they want to leave again.’ She gave a laugh, hoping this woman would take her comment as the joke she intended. Well, an almost-joke. There might well be a grain of truth in her statement.
The woman smiled – it appeared to be a genuine one. ‘Yeah, I heard that about this place.’ She reached a hand forwards. ‘Lizzie Brenfield,’ she said.
‘Well, hello, Lizzie.’ Anna took her hand, shaking it gently before releasing it. ‘I’m Anna. I’m the one that got away.’ She smiled before adding, ‘Although I appear to have been dragged back.’
Lizzie cocked her head to one side. ‘Well, that makes two of us.’
Chapter Twenty
2019
Lizzie
The Lord moveth in mysterious ways, Lizzie thought as she took a step back from Anna to make a quick appraisal of the situation. A moment ago she’d believed her trip here would ultimately be fruitless, but now it seemed she’d been thrown a lifeline. Whoever Anna was, whatever her reason for being here, she too appeared to have a similar feeling about Mapledon. Lizzie’s journalistic mind kicked in. There could even be a story here. One that wasn’t hers.
‘You from here originally then, Anna?’ Lizzie wondered why she hadn’t offered up her surname. She’d have to work a little harder.
‘Yep. For my sins.’
Lizzie arched one eyebrow. Interesting phrasing. She tried to think quickly. She didn’t want to waste this opportunity to find out more about Mapledon’s current goings-on, but then she also didn’t want to launch into a million questions and frighten Anna off.
‘Mapledon doesn’t appear to be high on either of our “best places to visit in Devon list” by the sounds of things.’
‘God, no!’ Anna said loudly. Lizzie observed Anna’s quick glance towards the church and subsequent sign of the cross, which she jabbed out over her chest.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lizzie whispered, leaning forwards, ‘I don’t think He heard you.’
‘You never can be too careful though, eh?’
Lizzie felt an immediate bond with Anna – as though they had something in common: a shared history. Maybe they did.
‘No, you can’t. Especially here in Mapledon,’ Lizzie said, nudging Anna with her elbow. She meant it in jest, but her voice hadn’t received that message. ‘Just joking,’ she added quickly.
‘Actually, Lizzie, you’re not far from the truth. Want to walk with me? Or do you have to be somewhere else?’
Lizzie sensed Anna wanted to be away from the church, away from the possibility of being overheard before talking more. This was good news – it meant she knew something, and more importantly, wanted to tell her about it. Perhaps her luck was about to turn.
Chapter Twenty-One
1989
Blackstone Close
Monday 17th July – 2 days before
When would the little shits let him be?
Billy Cawley saw the shadows, heard the scurrying of feet and the giggles just moments before the banging on the front door. He was tired. So bloody tired of it all. He’d lost count of how many months he’d been hounded by the kids.
Kids. Part of him wanted to let it go – they didn’t know any better. But he couldn’t. They should know better. Their parents should be teaching them better. Did they even know where their bratty children were? What they were up to? And the people of Mapledon had dared to give him a hard time about his parenting. Fucking cheek. They all needed to be taught a lesson. He’d begun chasing the kids out of the cul-de-sac – running after them, shouting like a madman. He’d almost got hold of one lad just last week, but now that he wasn’t keeping himself as fit, having given up on the gym after … Well, after life had turned to total shit, he didn’t have the stamina.
