Thirty years. She cursed loudly. ‘Fuck this place. It doesn’t define me. That man does not define me.’ She slammed her hands on the steering wheel, an action supporting her determination as she headed to the top of the hill. To the church. It was the first place she decided she’d go – the only landmark she could see. With luck the vicar might be there – he’d know what was going on in his parish. He’d be the best person to start with.

She could do this.

She had to close the book on William Cawley.

Chapter Twelve

1989

Brook Cottage Store, Mapledon

Thursday 20th July – the day after

Fears grow for missing child

Despite an extensive search of Mapledon and the surrounding area by police and over thirty local villagers, ten-year-old Jonie Hayes has still not been found. She has been missing for almost twenty-four hours and police say they are concerned for her safety. An appeal is due to be launched by Devon and Cornwall Police later today.

‘Such terrible news. I still can’t believe a little ’un could just disappear like that. Not here,’ Nell said, packing the tins into Mrs Percy’s shopping bag on the store counter.

‘We’re in shock. The whole village is.’

‘Well, almost the whole village,’ Muriel said, pushing forward in the queue to interject, her voice lowered conspiratorially.

‘Are you thinking what I am? About … you know who?’ Nell asked. A few other customers joined the women, even though they weren’t in the queue themselves.

‘Well, you can’t help but consider it, can you? I mean, after what happened to his little girl …’ Muriel raised one eyebrow in a high arc and stood back a little from the gathering villagers. ‘I’m just saying – I mean he wasn’t even out last night helping search for Jonie with all the others, was he? Wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with it, is all.’ She tilted her chin up.

‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It’s not helpful, Muriel.’ A voice came from behind her, causing her to start. Muriel spun around to face Reverend Farnley.

‘I’m not one to do that, Reverend.’ She kept her gaze steady. ‘Have you seen him over the last few days?’

‘Muriel. Please. Gossip is a tool of the devil. Be careful, now.’

‘It’s not gossip if it’s true, Reverend. And I didn’t even mention his name, but you knew who we were referring to …’ Muriel pursed her lips.

‘Now I think of it, I haven’t seen him, you’re right,’ Nell piped up in Muriel’s defence, before the red-faced vicar could respond. ‘Whilst it’s not helpful to gossip, it would be wrong to dismiss something that might actually be key. A little girl’s life is at stake, after all.’

‘There’s no evidence to suggest she’s been taken, ladies, or that her life is in danger; she could merely be lost,’ Reverend Farnley said. ‘Anyway, I’m sure the police have a good handle on things. We should leave them to their job. But we can pray for young Jonie’s safe return – put our faith in the Lord.’