Her mum said that one day someone would get hurt.

Bella didn’t want that day to be today, or for her to be the someone getting hurt.

‘You’re almost there! Go on!’

‘But it’s not nice.’ Bella’s voice susurrated through her gritted teeth.

‘Don’t be a chicken. I won’t play with you anymore if you don’t do it.’

Bella’s eyes, glassy with tears, travelled to the door. It was only a few feet away. But it seemed like the longest journey she would ever make.

Taking a deep breath, she lunged and ran, crashing against the door accidentally as her legs turned to jelly. In her fright, she almost bolted without completing the dare, but with her friend’s high-pitched screech hurtling across the garden, shouting, ‘Knock on the door, idiot!’ Bella did as she was told.

Two hard knocks later, her knuckles stinging, she was done.

The two girls ran – squealing with a mixture of exhilaration and terror – out of Creepy Cawley’s garden, out of the cul-de-sac and into the road leading back to their street.

Billy Cawley smiled as he watched their retreat.

They’d be back.

And next time he’d be ready.

Next time, he’d live up to his nickname and give them a real reason to scream.

Chapter One

2019

Anna

Friday 12th July

Anna replaced the receiver, forcibly tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked out of the secretary’s office without conversation. It wasn’t the first time her mother had phoned her at work, but it was one of the more worrying calls. She was determined not to pander to her, though – she’d responded to Muriel’s demands to leave right away by pointing out she had a responsibility for the children and it was only another hour until the bell. Then she would begin the journey down to Mapledon.

To the house where she grew up.

The one she’d longed to leave way before she had the means to do so.

‘Mrs Denver, Charlie is throwing the papier-mâché gloop everywhere!’

The shrill whine of the child brought Anna out of her thoughts.

‘He is going to have to clear up the mess he’s made, then, isn’t he?’ She placed her hand on the seven-year-old’s shoulders and guided her back to the classroom. Leaving her class unattended, even for a matter of minutes, was never a good idea – and especially on the final day of the term when all the children were hyped up ready for the summer break. ‘A spirited bunch’ was how the head teacher described them. Anna, whilst agreeing, also thought a few of them were just plain naughty. She’d never have allowed Carrie to act up like that – she expected more from her daughter – whether as a result of teaching other people’s children and witnessing their sometimes unruly behaviour, or as a result of her own strict upbringing, she couldn’t ascertain. It was a case of the chicken or the egg.

Having finally paired all the children with their respective adults, Anna flitted around the classroom clearing away the activities, tutting at the globs of slushy, sticky newspaper remnants now clinging to the tables like shit to a blanket. As she picked at some of the hardened paper, Muriel’s words played out in her head.