Now Anna came to think of it, there did seem a disproportionate number of single women in the village from her mother’s age group. Perhaps it was all linked to Jonie Hayes’ death – all the families struggled in the aftermath of her abduction and the parents’ relationships crumbled when she was never found. There had to be something in it – a huge shared traumatic event had to have a lasting impact. Anna rubbed her hands over her face. How tragic it had been. And now, with a surge of anxiety, Anna wondered if, somehow, it hadn’t quite finished.

More trauma was to come.

With a reluctance that dragged her down so much it made her feel heavier, Anna forced herself off the bed. A hot shower might ease her muscles. And give her thinking time. Her thought processes were always sharper while she was in the shower. With luck, her brain would come up trumps and provide her with a plan, a way forward. Because if she were to stay in Mapledon any longer, it wouldn’t only be her physical health that would suffer. She needed to either work out who was playing the new, macabre version of Knock, Knock, Ginger – and why – in the hopes of bringing it to an end, or, she would have to do what James had suggested. Take Muriel to Bristol to stay with her and Carrie for a while.

The latter option motivated her enough to get in the shower and make a start on her day.

‘Anything happen in this place during the week?’ Anna asked after she’d knocked back her first coffee of the morning.

‘The village hall tea and cake morning is at ten-thirty today and that’s about your lot until Thursday. Then the church wardens hold their coffee morning at the old Red Cross hut.’

‘I’m surprised that place hasn’t been converted into a house yet.’

‘I think some have tried, Anna, but not much gets past the local councillors. Unless, of course, the idea came from one of them in the first place.’

‘God. Nothing changes. Let me guess, the new councillors are the offspring of the ones who were throwing their weight about when I was growing up?’

Muriel gave a loud sigh. ‘You don’t hold this place in high regard, do you?’

‘Well? Are they?’

Muriel muttered something before answering, ‘Yes. Most of them are.’

‘Proof is in the pudding, eh, Mum?’

‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating, actually,’ Muriel corrected, with a shake of her head. ‘Anyway, what are your plans for today?’ she said as a way of changing the subject.

‘I guess I’m off to the village hall for tea and cake,’ she said, smiling. ‘And you’re coming with me. Get ready, then.’

‘Oh … er … Anna. I’m not really feeling up to—’

‘It wasn’t a request. You have to get out of this house. We need to find out what the word is in Mapledon about bloody Billy Cawley and I can’t do it alone. You’re the one people know in this village. You’re the one people talk to and confide in. If anyone can find out what’s going on, it’s you.’