Something smashed against her shin.

‘Ow!’ She stooped to rub the painful lump that had already risen. She’d walked into a small gravestone – she didn’t stop to read the inscription. It was probably that of a child. As she cast her phone around where she was standing, the beam picked up movement.

‘Hello?’ Her voice wavered. She hadn’t even meant to call out.

There was a rustling noise, then she heard breathing.

She froze. Shit. Why the hell did you come here alone?

She forced herself to breathe more slowly. A panic attack would not be helpful in this situation. The sounds of movement had stopped. She could no longer hear breathing. Had she heard her own panicked breaths? Lizzie moved cautiously forwards, her eyes keeping focus on the area ahead of her. She risked hitting another headstone, but she didn’t want to take her attention away from where she thought she’d seen something. Or someone. If it turned out to be the church cat, she’d feel so stupid.

There it was again. The movement was slower this time, as though they were trying to avoid detection.

‘I can see you. I know you’re there. No point trying to hide,’ Lizzie said, her voice sounding braver now: confident and strong.

What first appeared to be a dark blob of a shadow, lengthened and spread – became solid. Lizzie’s mouth dried, her pulse pounding in her ears, drowning out any other sounds.

‘I think we’re here for the same reason,’ she said, making her way more quickly to the figure now. Lizzie’s hand trembled, the light from her phone wavering wildly, but she kept her arm outstretched.

‘What makes you say that?’ A deep voice broke the silence, tore through the darkness. Lizzie suppressed a yelp of surprise, forcing her other hand across her mouth to prevent its escape.

‘Billy?’ she whispered.

The man turned sharply and shot off, away from Lizzie, away from Rosie’s grave.

‘Don’t run, please. I want to speak to you.’

The adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she was saying the wrong things. Frightening him away. But maybe that was a good thing. Was she really ready, or able, to face the man who’d ruined her life and those of so many other people?

Calm the fuck down, Lizzie.

She squeezed her eyes tight and took some steadying breaths. He’d disappeared, but without thinking, she shouted after him.

‘Dad! It’s Eliza. Your Eliza. I just want to see you.’

The silence was fragmented by the odd chirp of crickets, but nothing else. He must have left via another gate. Her shoulders slumped. She was unsure as to why, but she felt disappointed. She’d missed her opportunity to confront him. But she’d been right – he had come back to Mapledon. Even if only in the dead of night to visit her mother’s grave. Maybe he’d come back again tomorrow night. But now he’d been rumbled, he might not risk coming back at all.

Lizzie crouched in front of Rosie’s headstone, one hand on the cold granite.