And what she had heard she’d firmly placed in a compartment at the back of her mind, never to revisit. Part of her hadn’t believed the tales. They’d come from people who couldn’t have really known – it was all speculation, gossip. They couldn’t be trusted to tell her the truth, or give an accurate account – too much had been written in the tabloids and people believed what they wanted, added more shocking and ‘interesting’ details to those known. Did Muriel have any reason for lying to her now? Lizzie couldn’t see what an old woman would gain from it, especially as it made her look bad too. Why would she put herself in the firing line? No, Lizzie had the distinct feeling Muriel was scared. Afraid her past actions were coming back to haunt her now.

But, there could be the possibility she was remembering it wrongly. Or that she’d misinterpreted eight-year-old Eliza’s actions in the first place.

That’s what her dad had told her, just that morning. ‘Muriel Fisher was a meddler,’ he’d spat. ‘Instead of messing around in our lives, she should’ve been looking more closely at her own.’ His words came back to Lizzie now. As did his seething accusation.

‘Are you all right, Lizzie?’ Anna’s concerned voice broke into her thoughts.

‘Yeah. I’m okay. It all had to come to light one day, eh?’ She managed a tight smile.

‘Billy’s release has brought a lot with it – unearthed all that pain and harm he caused. We’re all going to suffer again. He shouldn’t have been let out,’ Muriel said, sharply.

‘But he has. And now we have to deal with it, and everything that comes with it. Including this.’ Lizzie flung an arm out, motioning to the pieces of paper on the table. ‘Clearly whoever is leaving these doesn’t feel the truth is out there. As far as I can make out, they must believe someone else is to blame for Jonie’s disappearance. Not my father.’

‘Do you believe he was responsible, Lizzie?’ Anna asked. Her eyes searched Lizzie’s.

‘Honestly? I don’t know. I grew up believing he was guilty, obviously. And I came to Mapledon thinking that too. But then … I, well, now I’m not quite as sure as I was.’ If she confessed to Muriel and Anna that Billy Cawley was back, and that she’d seen him, there’d be no doubt left in their minds that he was the one hammering dolls’ bits to the door. And given she was convinced it was her doll, Polly, being used for this bizarre game, together with the notes, it was hard not to conclude it was Billy.

But there was a little doubt. Something niggled at her like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch.

It was too obvious.

But then, didn’t they say the simplest explanation was usually the correct one?

Maybe she was looking for a different answer because she was grasping at the chance to get to know her father again after all these years, and hoping against hope he wasn’t the guilty man everyone assumed he was.