Читать книгу I Dare You - Sam Carrington - Страница 15

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 But it’s been out of date for days – haven’t you been having cereal, or drinks?’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Anna was half-tempted to check the cupboard, see if the tin was also out of date, but was afraid she’d find that it was a decade out, not just days.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.

‘Got it?’ Muriel appeared in the doorway, her voice making Anna jump. She dropped the letter back in the drawer and slid it shut.

‘Yep. Got a pen?’ Anna straightened, hoping her mother hadn’t spotted her nosing through the drawer. Going back into the kitchen she gave Muriel the pad and waited for her to write the list. Her mum’s hands were shaky, the writing spiky and jagged. When she finished, Anna read it through to make sure she could decipher it.

‘Here you go.’ Muriel pushed a small, purple felt purse into Anna’s hand. ‘The cash is in there. Should be enough. Get yourself what you need too, won’t you?’

Anna squeezed the childish-looking purse. It didn’t feel very full. She swallowed down another surge of guilt, avoiding direct eye contact with her mother. For years she’d stayed away from here. From her mum. She’d had her reasons, but now she questioned them.

Sitting in the car, Anna checked the purse. A single five-pound note. The list Muriel had written would cost at least twenty; maybe her mind wasn’t as sharp as it once had been. She hoped it wasn’t anything serious, like dementia. It’s not like Anna would’ve noticed the early warning signs. She’d have to talk to Muriel’s neighbours, see if they had any concerns.

Before setting off, Anna made a phone call.

‘Hey, darling girl. Sorry not to have made it home last night. You okay at your dad’s?’

‘Why are you staying with Nanna? Are you coming home now?’ Her voice quivered.

This, together with Carrie’s avoidance of the question, made Anna’s heart beat harder. James was a good dad, she had never doubted that, but she knew Carrie got anxious when there was a change in her routine. She’d got used to staying with her dad every other weekend, knew what to expect and when. Clearly, she didn’t care for this current disruption.

‘Nanna’s not feeling too good at the moment and needs a little bit of help. I’m going to stay the weekend, but don’t worry – try and enjoy the time with Daddy. What have you two got planned?’

There was a small sigh, then some rustling.

‘Hi, Anna.’

James had obviously been in earshot and taken over the call.

‘Is she all right? She sounds upset with me.’

‘She’s fine, really. You know what she’s like. I’ve got the cinema booked for later – she’ll forget about you abandoning her then.’

‘Really? God, James, you know I wouldn’t have asked you to have her unless it was important!’

‘Yeah, sorry. I know. Anyway, what was so urgent you had to actually go to Mapledon? Didn’t think anything would drag you back there.’

‘I’m not sure what’s going on, actually. I think Mum might be going a bit senile.’

‘Oh, fantastic. Are you sure? What makes you think that?’

‘A few things, but I haven’t got time to talk now really. I have to go to the shop. Look, I think I’m going to be here all weekend. Are you happy to keep Carrie?’

‘Of course. No problem. Stay as long as you need.’

‘Thanks, James. I appreciate it. Not that I want to be here for a second longer than absolutely necessary.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘Take care there, Anna.’

Coldness spread its icy branches inside her; his words triggering old anxiety, old memories. The ones she didn’t want to let in.

Keeping her gaze forward, Anna walked into Brook Cottage Store – Mapledon’s only shop. Immediately, she was transported back to her childhood. How on earth had it stayed virtually the same for all these years? Anna walked past the pick-and-mix shelves – memories of filling a brown paper bag with penny sweets sweeping through her mind – and headed for the fridges. She quickly moved along the aisles, cramming stuff in her basket as she went. She didn’t want to be in the shop for too long. The longer she was there, the more likely someone might recognise her; stop her and ask unwanted questions.

Anna heard more voices now, the shop suddenly filling up. She checked her phone for the time. Nine a.m. Damn, she hadn’t timed her visit well – the villagers of Mapledon were beginning their day. After checking her mother’s list one last time, Anna popped in a jar of coffee and headed for the checkout. There were two counters with tills. That was different. Back when she was a child, there’d been just the one till and the owner of the shop, Nell Andrews, was always the one behind it. Now it seemed she’d upgraded, although it appeared only the one till was currently in use. Anna assumed Nell must’ve retired. That was something at least. The person serving was probably younger, new. Wouldn’t know who Anna was.

There were several people ahead of her in the queue. Sweat formed on her upper lip. Be quick, hurry up. She tried to keep her head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. She might well know these people, but she wasn’t interested in them, their lives – wasn’t interested in ‘catching up’ with any of their news. She could hear the low murmur of conversation in front of her. Two women in the line were turned towards each other, baskets touching as they spoke. Anna could hear their supposed hushed chatter.

‘Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see the day.’

‘Everyone is horrified, Ali. The whole village is in shock.’

Anna turned her head, one ear towards the gossiping couple.

‘Her poor mother, though. How the hell must she feel?’

Anna’s heart hammered against her ribs, a sudden sensation of falling overcoming her. She popped her basket on the floor and put her hand on the bread stand to steady herself.

‘Oh, I know. I really feel for them. But surely he won’t come back here?’

‘I don’t think the villagers would allow it. And anyway, there’s nothing for him here.’

‘But what if we see him? Can you imagine if he were to walk into this shop now, or he moved back into that bungalow? It has been standing empty all these years.’

The queue surged forwards and the women stopped talking as they were served. Anna’s saliva had dried, her mouth moistureless. The women could be talking about anyone. Twenty years of things Anna had no clue about had gone on in this village. The likelihood they were talking about that particular event was slim, she convinced herself.

Until she reached the till.

At the side of the counter was the newspaper rack. The same position it had always been. Her eyes were drawn to the headline of the Herald Express.

MAPLEDON MURDERER RELEASED.

The noises in the shop faded. All Anna could see was the newspaper, the bold capital letters boring into her brain.

‘Everyone’s up in arms about it. The whole village.’ A male voice finally penetrated her thoughts.

‘When?’ Anna’s single word was strangled with fear.

‘Four days ago,’ the man said, taking the items from Anna’s basket and scanning them. ‘No one’s spotted him, yet. Mind you, I guess no one knows what he looks like now. But he wouldn’t dare come back here. Mum said he’d be a fool to. She wouldn’t serve him, she said.’

Anna didn’t respond at first, her thoughts crashing against each other, tumbling in her head. She fumbled in her purse and paid for the shopping with her debit card. Looking properly at the man behind the counter, she realised he was Nell Andrews’ son, Robert – his hair had receded, and his face was thinner than she remembered.

‘Has your mum retired?’ Anna asked, not because she was interested, more because she wanted to take a minute or two to recover before attempting to walk out of the shop.

‘God, no. She’ll be here until the end of time. I’ve just been covering – she’s a bit under the weather at the moment. She’ll be back!’ The man gave a wide grin. Anna assumed he hadn’t recognised her and was grateful for this good fortune – a ‘wow, it’s been years’ conversation wasn’t one she wanted now. Or ever. She thanked him and left, his words echoing in her mind: ‘Four days ago. No one’s spotted him yet.’

Four days ago. The same period of time her mother hadn’t left the house.

The vision of Muriel’s front door swam in front of her eyes.

And the doll’s head hammered to it, its relevance now achingly obvious.