Sam Carrington - I Dare You

‘Okay.’ A flicker of concern crossed his face. ‘Anything on your mind?’ Dom tucked his shirt back into his suit trousers and straightened his tie. ‘Tough job coming up?’

‘No. Well, actually yes.’ There it was. Her get-out clause – she could say it was work-related. ‘I’ve got to cover a story – not one I’m keen on doing if I’m honest.’

‘Can’t another journo do it?’

‘In theory, yes. But I haven’t had much on lately – being freelance you kinda have to take what you can.’

‘What is it?’

‘You’re going to be late – I’ll tell you about it tonight.’

She hated herself, lying like that. She should just tell him the truth. Maybe she would later – instead of spinning him a story, she’d sit him down, open up. Finally. He would either accept that she hadn’t been able to talk about it before now, or not. It’d be better to have difficult discussions now, rather than have something come out at a later date and make him even more upset with her for hiding her past.

Dom is a good man. Dom will understand.

Feeling lighter now she’d made the decision to disclose everything later, Lizzie shot up from the bed and launched herself at Dom. He let out a surge of air as she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his middle.

‘Steady on, girl. You’re not as light as you used to be,’ he said, staggering backwards.

‘Oh, get away with you.’

She kissed him as he pulled her in even tighter, pushing himself into her. He groaned.

‘Now, that would make me really late,’ he whispered. ‘Love you.’

‘And I love you,’ she said, lowering herself from him. ‘See you tonight, babe.’

The silence in the room once Dom left crushed her. She wouldn’t be working today.

Lizzie had to do something constructive; something to release the tension building in her gut. She needed to know where William Cawley was.

She had to find him, before he found her.

Friday 21st July

‘So, missy, your mum tells me you saw something that might help us?’

The girl stared down at her trembling hands. She didn’t want to be in the dimly lit, stuffy station, she wanted to be back in her bedroom among her wall-to-wall posters of New Kids on The Block, singing along to her favourite songs on the stereo and dancing. She loved making up dance routines in her bedroom. It was what she’d wanted to do instead of going out. She should never have agreed to play that stupid game again – she should’ve listened to her mother.

She’d listened to her about going to the police, though. She owed it to her mum to do as she was told now. Even if it was too late. ‘ You have to do it for your friend ,’ she’d said over and over. ‘ You need to do it for her .’

‘Yes …’ Her voice shook. She turned her pale face towards her mum, who gave an encouraging smile and a nudge with her elbow. ‘I saw …’

‘Take your time,’ the officer said. His wide eyes told her that he didn’t mean it. He was leaning forward, waiting like an impatient child who wanted their Christmas gift, and wanted it now . She took a deep breath and said the words in her head first; she wanted to get them right. Then she spoke out loud. ‘I saw him lift her up, into the truck. And then he got in too and screeched off down the road – the one going out of Mapledon. She … she shouldn’t have got in.’ The tears strangled her voice box and the words were high-pitched. ‘I don’t know why she got in. I don’t know why she left me.’

Saturday 13th July

In keeping with the rest of the house, outside and in, Anna’s old bedroom had also remained unchanged. It was as though she’d stepped into a time warp and it unnerved her – especially in the dark shadows her old Pierrot lamp cast. The ancient springs in the single mattress did little to help: digging into her hip bones if she lay on her side; displacing her spine if she lay on her back. She hadn’t settled for hours. Now, as her body refused to bounce youth-like from the bed, she thought it went some way to explaining why her back was so prone to aches and pains now, as an adult. How had she ever put up with this? The floor would’ve given better comfort.

Not stopping to inspect any of her childhood belongings, Anna stretched – her spine giving a loud, satisfying crack – and gingerly made her way downstairs to the kitchen fridge. She needed coffee. Her stomach contracted as she sniffed the milk. She pulled the carton away from her nose with such force some of the putrid contents spilled over.

‘Oh, my God!’ She went quickly to the sink and turned on the tap. With her forearm pressed against her nostrils, she watched as the sour, lumpy liquid glugged down the plughole. Looking at the now empty carton she noted the use-by date was four days ago.

‘Mum, your milk is off!’ Anna shouted. She checked the fridge for fresh milk, but there was none. There wasn’t much of anything. She slammed the fridge door. No coffee to bring her to life first thing was tantamount to hell and she’d never make it through the day. The next hour even. Especially here.

‘Oh, sorry, love.’ Muriel came into the kitchen, her slippers scuffing over the lino. ‘Forgot to get a new carton.’

‘Forgot? But it’s been out of date for days – haven’t you been having cereal, or drinks?’

‘Oh, I just hadn’t got around to getting to the shop, been using the tin of Marvel I had in the cupboard for cups of tea.’

‘You’ve been using powdered milk instead of getting fresh? When did you last use Marvel? I didn’t even know they still made it.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear, of course they do.’

Anna was half-tempted to check the cupboard, see if the tin was also out of date, but was afraid she’d find that it was a decade out, not just days.

‘I’ll take you up the shop, then.’

‘Oh, you don’t need me, do you? You remember where it is, surely?’ Muriel slumped down onto the chair at the dining table.

‘You all right, Mum? You don’t look like you’ve slept.’

‘I look like this every morning. You wouldn’t know, would you?’

Anna let the comment slide; she couldn’t exactly argue otherwise.

‘Do you want to make me a list?’ Anna offered. It occurred to her that her mum might not be taking good enough care of herself – or certainly not eating well, going by her gaunt appearance. Guilt tugged at her conscience; she’d always assumed Muriel was okay living alone in Mapledon – she’d kept it together well after Anna’s father upped and left when she was just eleven. She was fit and healthy, had good friends. But Anna now wondered if that was what she’d wanted to think. It was easier to believe than the alternative. Anything to avoid coming back to this village.

‘Yes, that would be good, thank you.’ Muriel’s voice lifted; her face brightened.

‘When did you go out last?’ Anna frowned. Her mother’s reaction to her offer to go to the shop for her seemed far too enthusiastic. The doll’s head on the door was only yesterday – had other things been going on prior to that to cause her to fear leaving the house?

Muriel waved an arm dismissively. ‘Oh, I can’t remember – only a couple of days ago. Now, the notepad is in the top drawer of the dresser, love.’ Muriel pointed towards the lounge.

‘Right,’ Anna said.

While in the drawer retrieving the notepad, Anna had a rummage. She wasn’t sure what she was even looking for, but she had a niggling feeling. It was filled with old utility bills – thankfully none were red – and old letters. She picked up one of the yellowing envelopes. Black scrawling handwriting covered the front with little room left for the stamp. She squinted, trying to make out the postmark and date.