‘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?
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.
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