Further into the town is the old cinema, just past my family’s dentist. I see the ghost of myself on every corner. I had forgotten how much of me was shaped in this town. The cinema looks the same, as do the shops surrounding it. How can so much time have passed outside this town and yet nothing has changed on the inside? To me the town is alive, a monster in my mind, dark and insidious, creeping and malevolent. I feel its fingers around me, gently pulling me in, leading me towards a place I am not sure I want to go. I have always thought that this town isn’t like anywhere else, that once it gets a hold of you, you can’t escape, almost as if some ancient pagan magic is at work. I know it makes no sense, but I think of it almost as if it were a person who had wronged me, someone I can never forgive, someone I am afraid to let into my heart again. So instead I just feel anger towards it. As if these buildings and streets are all complicit somehow.

I can feel the sea before I see it. Something always feels different about coastal towns, as if they are on the edge of the world somehow. There is no way to get lost as long as you can find the sea. I am glad I drove here at night. I didn’t tell Chris it was because I didn’t want to have to look at the people who live here as I drove past them, wondering if I knew them, wondering if they knew me. I just want to get inside the hotel and close the door, giving myself a few hours before I have to venture out again. Taking off was unusually selfish of me, but from the moment I saw that news report I knew there was nothing else I could do. I have to find out what happened. The locals will know things that aren’t in the news. I’ll find out who the missing girl is, why she was here and what happened to her. For some reason I think I’m the only one who can.

I pull into the hotel car park, the huge red brick building a monument to a different time. I could have chosen a less expensive hotel, but this is the one we used to look at and wonder what was inside, it always seemed so posh and decadent. Standing in front of it now, it seems much smaller than I remember, much less imposing. It’s still grand but it’s dated, and not in a good way. I feel like an imposter just stepping through the doors, as if I’m not actually allowed to be in this building, as if it knows who I am.