I Dare You. Sam Carrington
venue alternating between their houses. It normally took place on the last Thursday of each month; however, they’d brought it forward this time – both having agreed it was somewhat of an ‘emergency meeting’. A small, select group of female villagers attended, usually twelve, but sometimes more if there was something pressing to discuss. Like now. Admittedly, this was one of the most pressing topics that had ever faced the group – although there’d been other challenging ones, Jonie Hayes’ disappearance was the worst. The mothers of the group in particular were very concerned and would need support and reassurance.
‘See you at seven-thirty sharp, Nell. I’ll make sure I put out extra nibbles – it’s going to be a busy one.’
Saturday 13th July
‘Hiding in here, worrying, isn’t very productive.’ Anna lowered the curtain, moving away from the lounge window to face Muriel. Since her disclosure she’d been quiet, barely speaking. Instead, she’d watched daytime TV, a blank look plastered on her face. Anna knew if she couldn’t put her mother’s mind at ease – if she couldn’t confidently tell her that the doll’s head was nothing to do with Billy Cawley – this would drag on; hang over their heads for the foreseeable future. Anna did not want to spend more time in Mapledon. Maybe she’d have to persuade her mum to move nearer to her and Carrie in Bristol.
‘What do you propose I do? March around the village accusing the local kids of trespass, criminal damage?’
‘Well, no. Although going to the police with your suspicions would be a start.’
‘I told you, Anna – I’m not going to the police.’ She looked past Anna, into the distance. ‘That’ll make matters worse.’
‘For who? The kids? That’s the idea, Mum. And if it isn’t the kids …’
‘It’ll be him,’ Muriel said.
‘The police will be able to keep an eye on things. On him. He’ll be on a life licence. Something like this would put him straight back to prison.’
‘Or, it could stir up a hornet’s nest,’ Muriel said, her face stony.
That was the problem with small villages. Anna had always sensed it growing up, but now it was even more apparent. One event could cause a ripple effect – what should be contained within a family unit suddenly became the business of every person in the village. Everyone had something to say; some advice to give, solutions to problems to offer. Whether wanted or not. If word got out that Muriel thought the children of Mapledon were responsible for the macabre doll’s head, then she was right – accusations would fly, uptight members of the community would be up in arms. The local council would probably seek to lay down a curfew – the teenagers would rebel. The situation would likely worsen. And then Muriel would become the sole focus of attention. But then, maybe she had already.
Why had she been targeted?
If it really was him, then this was just the start. Anna remembered that at the time every villager had been horrified at what had happened. Everyone had named Billy Cawley.
‘I think I’ll get some fresh air, Mum.’ Anna couldn’t sit inside the house waiting for the next ‘gift’ to be delivered to Muriel’s door. It might be that others had received something similar. A walk around the village might well give her an opportunity to find out if anything else was amiss in Mapledon.
Muriel squinted at Anna. ‘I – I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Not on your own.’
She tried to ignore her mother’s deepening frown as she bent to kiss the top of her head. ‘Mum. It’s daylight. I’m a grown woman – I’ll be fine!’
‘I didn’t ask you to come here on a mission to track down the culprit, Anna. I just wanted you here to be with me.’
‘I can’t stay cooped up. And I’m not tracking anyone down, I’m going for a walk.’
Muriel sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. ‘Don’t be long, then.’
Taking in her mother’s anxious expression, she realised Muriel’s concern was not entirely for Anna. It was for herself. She didn’t want to be alone in the house, just in case.
‘I won’t be. And I’ve got my mobile. Call me immediately if …’ Anna trailed off.
‘You get a full signal here?’ Muriel straightened in her chair, her tone panicked.
‘Well, not full, no,’ Anna said. She couldn’t very well lie. She’d assumed there would be areas where the signal dipped, became non-existent even. It was a small village in a valley on the outskirts of Dartmoor; it was to be expected. ‘But I’ll never be far away, will I? God, it’ll only take fifteen minutes to walk an entire circuit of this place.’
‘It took less time than that for someone to abduct Jonie Hayes,’ she said bluntly.
Anna ignored the comment and left, grabbing a hoody from the hall bannister despite the warmth of the day. With the hood up, she’d maybe remain anonymous as she walked through the village. Taking a right at the end of Muriel’s road, Anna headed down Fore Street. The only houses – three cottages in a row – were situated just before the road ended and joined what was the main road of Mapledon: the one that led to the church. No one was about. The cottages appeared normal as she passed. But then, had there been anything hammered to their doors, no doubt it’d been removed by now. Anna wasn’t really expecting to see anything remotely strange: no doll’s heads. Not really. But still, she looked. Or, maybe she was hoping to see something. She could take some comfort then; there’d be a shared fear, rather than an isolated one.
As she ambled up towards the church, passing other equally unremarkable homes along Bridge Street, Anna found herself at the entrance to one of the cul-de-sacs that ran off it. Blackstone Close. Curiosity made her turn into it and begin walking to the end.
She stopped outside the final bungalow. The paint was peeling, the plaster crumbling. The garden was overgrown. Even in daylight there was something sinister about it. There’d been calls from angry, grieving villagers for it to be demolished afterwards. But the formidable local councillors had come up against more red tape than they could cut through. So, it had stood. Empty for thirty years. Like some strange kind of mausoleum.
Anna couldn’t help but wonder about the man who lived there.
Would he really come back?
Was he inside it now?
Her heart jolted at the thought. She wanted to turn and walk away, but her feet remained planted. She took her hands from her hoody pockets and reached out slowly towards the wall. A voice made her snatch it away again.
‘Hi, Bella. I thought you might come calling now.’
Lizzie was parked just outside the church gate, eyes fixed on the entrance, her resolve wavering. There were no regular services on a Saturday – she hadn’t given that a thought when she’d decided the church was the best place to start. Perhaps the vicar would still be inside, though. There might’ve been a wedding. Or a funeral. Doubtful, though. Surely her luck wouldn’t be that great. If she didn’t brave