Sam Carrington - I Dare You

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.

Christ – twenty-five years old and already being outrun by kids. Mind you, not only didn’t he have the body or fitness of a twenty-five-year-old, he didn’t have the face of one either. That was evident when he overheard the taunts, the whispers and nicknames whenever he ventured out of his comfort zone of the bungalow – ‘Old Man Cawley’, ‘Creepy Cawley’ and the like. He had had worse nicknames though – some of the more cruel, unfounded things people said really boiled his piss. But he no longer had the motivation, the desire to look good or worry unduly about what the folk of Mapledon said about him. There was no one to impress now. Not now they’d taken everything from him.

A loud crash at the kitchen window startled him.

‘Bastards!’ He rushed to the door, flinging it open in time to see two boys hare down the road. He’d never catch up with them. Billy strode outside, stepping over all the crap in his garden. He kicked a doll’s head hard, sending it flying through the air. It landed by his truck, then rolled awkwardly behind the back tyre. He walked around to the kitchen window, and on inspection of the ground he found a large stone. He picked it up; it was pretty weighty – he was amazed it hadn’t gone right through the glass. None of the kids had done more than play Knock, Knock, Ginger before. It seemed they were getting braver.

Maybe it was time for him to do the same.

Saturday 13th July

She was taking a leap of faith. Anna had no clue who Lizzie was, what she wanted – but, like her, she’d come to Mapledon for a reason. Anna wanted to ask so many questions, but also wanted to tread with caution. She needed to get Lizzie away from the church: she didn’t want to be seen by any nosy villagers. Being back in this place was bad enough, being recognised even worse – but to also be caught talking to an outsider – well, that would be punishable by death. Despite knowing that to be an exaggeration, Anna did know it was the one thing the tight-knit villagers of Mapledon feared the most. Although, at this point, just because Anna didn’t recognise the woman, or her name, it didn’t mean she didn’t have family ties here, so perhaps she was being too quick to label her as an outsider. The irony that she was acting just like a Mapledon villager herself wasn’t lost.

Only one way of finding out.

‘So, Lizzie – you visiting family too?’ Anna turned to face Lizzie as they walked, wanting to gauge her reaction.

‘Kinda, yes. No. Well, maybe …’ Lizzie stuttered.

That solved that, then. Anna inwardly sighed. How could she proceed from there?

Anna guided Lizzie around the corner of Edgelands Lane, the small primary school coming into sight. Lizzie stopped walking, appearing to freeze to the spot.

‘What’s the matter?’ Anna asked.

‘Nothing, sorry.’ She began walking again, her head bowed. ‘Why did you say Mapledon had dragged you back, Anna?’

‘It was only a turn of phrase, I guess. I just meant that it’d taken years to escape it – and its small-village mentality – and I never had the inclination to return once I’d left. But, with my mother still living here, well, it’s like I can’t quite rid myself of the place yet. While I still have her, I suppose it was inevitable that one day I’d need to come back here. And it seems yesterday was that day.’

‘Is she ill, your mother?’

‘I think she’s showing some early signs of dementia.’ Anna was surprised at herself for telling Lizzie. But then she always had found it easier to talk to someone outside of the family, someone who didn’t know the people involved; couldn’t judge.

‘Ah. I’m sorry. It’s a terrible thing watching the person you love become less like the person you’ve known all your life, I’m sure. Nice that you’re here for her though. Are you the only child?’

‘Yep. It’s all on me. My mum and dad separated years ago, so Mum only has her neighbours and the other villagers to look out for her. You never really prepare yourself for a parent to deteriorate, to die – do you?’ Anna gave a half-smile. Lizzie’s skin had paled, and immediately Anna realised she’d put her foot in it. Shit. Lizzie had been coming out of the churchyard – what was the betting she’d been visiting the grave of one of her parents? Maybe even both. That would explain her odd ‘kinda, yes, no,’ response when she’d asked if she was visiting family. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie – I …’ she faltered.

‘It’s fine. Really. And no, you’re right, you don’t prepare yourself – even in later years.’ Lizzie dropped her gaze. ‘But you especially don’t prepare when you’re just seven years old when it happens. How could a child ever envisage something happening to her parents?’

Oh, God. Anna flinched. ‘How terrible,’ she said, now wishing she hadn’t begun this line of conversation. Anna had never been very good with other people’s grief, and today she’d overdosed on it. As much as she wanted to move the conversation on to a brighter topic, she knew she’d opened this poor woman’s wound now, so had no option but to watch the blood flow out. ‘What happened?’

Anna’s question was met with silence. They carried on walking, side by side – Anna led them past Major’s Farm and along Langway Road, making sure to give a passing glance to each property, checking if anything unusual adorned their doors. They were almost at the turn that would take Anna back home when Lizzie finally spoke again.

‘Cancer,’ she said. ‘My mother died of cervical cancer. She was only twenty-four.’

‘I’m so sorry, Lizzie. That’s shocking. It must’ve turned your world upside down.’ Anna truly felt terrible for this woman – to have had such a young mother, then lose her. Her life must’ve changed dramatically afterwards. No doubt Lizzie had a long, probably painful story to tell, but Anna realised they were getting closer to Muriel’s road now and she didn’t really want to invite a stranger in. ‘Er … I’m going to have to head back, actually. Mum will be anxious – I’ve been longer than I thought.’

‘’Course. Sure.’ Lizzie looked around her, like she was lost. Of course. She’d dragged the poor woman quite a way from where her car was parked, through winding lanes. She was probably wondering how to get back to it.

‘If you go left here it’ll take you back onto the main road of Mapledon, then hook another left, back up the hill.’ Anna smiled.

‘Good, thanks. Oh, Anna – er … I have no place to stay, actually … so …’

‘Oh.’ Anna panicked for a moment, thinking Lizzie was angling to stay with her. Surely she wouldn’t ask that of someone she’d just met? She hesitated before remembering the B&B on the edge of Mapledon. ‘Have you checked out Bulleigh Barton? It’s a beautiful place, rolling hillsides, quiet. I almost checked in myself rather than stay at my mother’s! There’s a leaflet for it in the shop window. It’ll have their phone number – you’ll see it when you head up the hill.’