‘What else?’ she asked. Her voice shook with apprehension, fearing the answer.

Muriel began shaking her head, the movements getting more and more violent.

‘Mum! Stop that, you’ll give yourself a headache.’ Anna placed her hands either side of her mother’s head to stop her.

‘I’m sorry, Anna,’ she said.

‘What for? Tell me.’

Anna’s phone pinged, the sharp tone making them both jump. She sighed. Couldn’t be worse timing; talk about being saved by the bell. Muriel looked relieved when Anna straightened and retrieved her mobile from the arm of the sofa.

‘Christ,’ she breathed. She looked up at Muriel. ‘Well, I get the feeling whatever you’re holding back might be about to come out in the wash,’ Anna said.

‘Why? Who is it?’ Panic spread on Muriel’s face.

‘It’s a text from Lizzie. She says it’s urgent. She wants to meet us.’

‘Not now, surely? It’s gone ten o’clock.’

‘The text was sent an hour ago by the look of it,’ Anna muttered. The damn signal in Mapledon was driving her mad. ‘But yes. We have to leave now. And, Mum …’ Anna looked directly into Muriel’s watery, pale blue eyes.

‘What, Anna? For goodness’ sake, don’t draw this out so dramatically!’

‘She wants us to go to Blackstone Close. To Billy Cawley’s bungalow.’

Chapter Eighty-Six

2019

Lizzie

Lizzie parked on the drive at Blackstone Close. It felt odd – particularly as the place didn’t bring back many memories. She’d clearly done a very good job compartmentalising them, burying them deep inside a part of her brain where they were irretrievable. She climbed out of the car, fetching the backpack from the rear seat. Gravel crunched underfoot as she approached the front door. Billy had given her his key. He’d also given her strict instructions.

Nerves clutched at her insides as she slid the key into the lock and pushed the door. It resisted; she had to give it several hard shoves before it opened. Piles of unopened post lay wedged behind it; it was no wonder she’d struggled. She kicked most of it out of the way and took a tentative step inside – muggy air, a damp smell and dust quickly clogged her nostrils. She sneezed three times, then covered her nose with her sleeve. She flicked the nearest light switch knowing full well it wouldn’t work as the electric had been switched off long ago, then continued on through the hallway. Using her spare hand to direct her mobile phone light, Lizzie headed towards the front room – the one overlooking the garden. She wanted to see the people arriving.

Lizzie hoped what she was about to do would work. Hoped Billy Cawley would finally get what he deserved.

Atonement.

Car headlamps flooded the end of the cul-de-sac, the beams of light hitting the ten-foot hedges, momentarily blinding Lizzie. The car came to a stop just outside the bungalow, across the driveway – blocking Lizzie’s own car in. She guessed they’d be leaving before her, though. Then Lizzie spotted two figures walking slowly along the pavement. Cautious in their movements. Following closely behind, a further two people.