‘I was talking to Muriel today,’ Lizzie said, changing the subject. ‘She mentioned you had tried to be friends with me. Is that true?’

Rob backed away from the wall and sat down on a large, flat stool. It resembled a big mushroom. When he looked back up to Lizzie, she saw his face was red.

‘I told you the other night, I don’t really remember much.’

‘Bollocks.’ Lizzie heard herself saying it before she could control her mouth. Rob looked away sharply. ‘Look, I know I lied about who I was,’ Lizzie said, ‘we’ve covered that. But there’s no need to lie now. Is there?’

‘It’s awkward, Lizzie. I mean, like … uncomfortably so. I’ve never spoken about it and if I’m honest, I don’t want to start now. Nothing good will come of it. Just more hurt and pain.’

‘For me, or you?’

‘You, mainly.’

‘Well, can you let me be the judge of that?’

‘Okay, and me, then. If you don’t believe me, then—’ He held his head in his hands, his eyes masked. ‘You’ll think I’m some weirdo.’

‘Oh, come on. I’m the weirdo – you can’t take that crown off me.’ Lizzie attempted a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

‘I wanted to help, somehow. We’d been told in a school assembly to be kind to others. And I knew you got a rough ride from everyone. Just about every kid teased you – their parents stopped them from playing with you. You were certainly never invited over to someone’s house for tea, and despite some horrible kids trying to befriend you just so they could get a look inside Creepy Cawley’s house, no one had stepped foot inside or been allowed to even play in your garden with you. I felt sorry for you.’

‘So, you snuck out, away from the shop, and came to the bungalow to call for me?’

‘Yep. God, I actually remember it clearly. I had a bag of sweets to share with you. They were stuffed in my pocket, getting gooey in the heat. I was scared stiff when I knocked on the door. Even more scared when your dad answered it. But he let me in.’ Rob’s eyes narrowed, his face crumpling.

‘Did he hurt you, Rob?’ Lizzie asked softly. Her heart banged hard against her ribs as she awaited the awful answer.

‘No. He didn’t touch me.’

‘Oh. Okay, then. Why has it been such a big deal to you all these years then? Why the silence?’

‘This is so … so hard, Lizzie.’

‘You’ve come this far, go on – get it off your chest.’

‘It was you. You who touched me. And you made me touch you.’ Tears tracked down his face.

Lizzie’s jaw slackened. ‘What the hell, Rob?’

Chapter Seventy-Two

1989

Mapledon Church

Sunday 4th June – 45 days before

Muriel hurried through the church gate, patting her dress down, then dragging her fingers through her hair to neaten it. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, clearing the dampness from her skin. Rushing up the road in the heat hadn’t been a good idea, but she was late. She’d never been late for Sunday school. Reverend Farnley would be wondering what had held her up. The truth of the matter was that she’d been too preoccupied with the minutes from Thursday’s Mapledon Meeting, keen to get the action points written down. Keen to make progress with at least one of them. The main one.