Billy nodded and slipped down so that he was sitting on the sofa cushion beside her.

Lizzie caught the scent of Old Spice. She angled her body so she was fully facing him. He was clean-shaven today, and wore a plain black T-shirt, untucked from his dark blue denim jeans. He’d tidied himself up since she’d first met him. She almost smiled – for some reason his neatened appearance – the fact he was making an effort and taking pride in himself – made her feel a warmth towards him. He seemed calm and in control when he spoke again; he started slowly, his voice low and measured. ‘The lies began early on. The ones circulating the village about me abusing you being some of the first. But the biggest lie of all came two days after Jonie Hayes went missing. And that’s when I knew.’

‘Knew what?’ Lizzie shifted awkwardly on the firm-cushioned sofa, creating a little more distance between her and Billy.

‘Knew that whatever I said was a waste of time. No one was going to believe weirdo Creepy Cawley, were they? Who’d believe a loner and a child molester?’

‘But you hadn’t been convicted, no charges came about for abusing me, did they?’

‘Because I was innocent!’ he shouted suddenly, running his fingers through his grey hair. ‘But it didn’t matter by then. Shit sticks, Eliza. No smoke without fire, as they say. And they knew that. That’s how come it worked.’

‘How come what worked?’

‘Their plan. They knew I’d struggle to get out of the mess they’d created for me. The stage was set, and I was the number one suspect. The only suspect in their minds. The only one they ever wanted.’

Chapter Seventy-Eight

1989

Fisher residence

Wednesday 19th July – the day of, 6.15 p.m.

Bella couldn’t catch her breath. She’d run home all the way, not stopping once. She couldn’t; she was too afraid. Too afraid to look back. Now, safely behind her front door, she collapsed in a heap, gasping for air.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Bella?’ Her mother appeared from the lounge doorway and then rushed towards her, bending down in front of her.

Bella couldn’t speak.

‘Slow it down, take deep breaths,’ she coaxed, taking Bella’s hands in hers and waiting for her to calm. ‘You’re shaking,’ she said, her brow creasing with concern.

Bella heard a sob. It had come from her – from deep inside, bubbling up and erupting noisily. Tears stung her eyes.

She shouldn’t have run. But what other choice had there been?

The shaking got worse, her teeth chattering together violently. Muriel pulled Bella in close to her, wrapping her arms tightly around her trembling body. She brushed Bella’s golden hair down with her hand, whispering comforting ‘shushings’ into her ear.

They rocked together on the floor, saying nothing.

‘I’m home!’ Eric called as he opened the back door. He turned to bang his boots against the back step to dislodge mud.

‘You’re late,’ Muriel said.