I Dare You. Sam Carrington

the person who’d delivered the bloody message couldn’t be alluding to Muriel having blood on her hands?

       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 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 overhearing 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.

      ‘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 immediately 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 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.’