Black Hare Valley Chapter Seven: “The Neighbourhood”

Hill Fort Farmhouse – image is mine

© 2025 Chantelle Atkins. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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1

Somehow, Jesse makes it through the day. He cannot find Paddy anywhere though and when he is called in to see Mr Hewlett, he starts to panic. He never gets called to see Mr Hewlett; it’s only ever Bishop who wants a word with him. No one gives a shit if he’s anxious or depressed or has family trouble. He almost blurts it out right away, is this about Paddy? But he doesn’t.

Mr Hewlett is wringing his wormy hands as he thanks him for coming in. Mr Bishop lurks in the background, brooding, his eyes on Jesse as he slips into a waiting chair.

‘It’s nothing to worry about but we were wondering if you have seen or heard from Paddy Finnis at all today?’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘No, but I saw him yesterday.’

The two men swap a look. ‘Where?’ asks Mr Hewlett. ‘What time?’

‘I dunno, one-ish, maybe. Ask his dad. I went in the shop to get out of the rain and he said I could go out the back.’

‘Out the back?’

‘Paddy’s treehouse.’

‘I see and was it just the two of you there?’

‘Only for a few minutes and then some other kids turned up.’

Mr Hewlett grabs a notebook and pen. ‘Their names?’

‘His friend, Willow Harrison, Ralph Maxwell and that new girl. Jaime someone.’

‘Okay, thank you. We’ll talk to them too. What time did you leave, Jesse?’

‘I dunno exactly. Not long after. I wasn’t there long.’

‘Were you the first to leave or the last?’

‘The first.’

‘All right, thank you. And you’re sure you haven’t heard from Paddy since then? Nothing last night, for example, or this morning?’

‘No, nothing. Why?’

‘He’s vanished,’ Mr Bishop speaks up, arms folded. ‘And if anything bad has happened to that boy, you can bet your doorstep will be the first place the police turn up. Now get back to class, go on.’

Mr Hewlett’s eyes widen in alarm, maybe even in pity, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t stand up for Jesse; no one ever does.

For the remainder of the day, he panics.

What the hell does this mean? How can a kid just vanish in the night? And not just any kid either – a smart, nice, sensible kid with a decent home. It doesn’t make any sense.

After school, Jesse heads home. He doesn’t want to but he doesn’t know where else to go. He can’t go back to the bookshop no matter how much he wants to, because it will probably be crawling with police. He can’t stop thinking about the camera…

Jesse walks home in a daze – dry-mouthed, his stomach a mess, his heart thudding like it’s going to break. When he sees the police car waiting for him outside his block of flats, he almost vomits right there and then. He feels light-headed, woozy. This can’t be happening. What the hell does he want?

Sergeant Mayfield throws open the passenger door. ‘Get in. Now.’

He could run. He could hide; he knows some places, he knows how to get into the Holloway, but what would be the point? He gets into the car and closes the door.

Mayfield shifts to face him, that ever present mirth sparkling in his eyes. ‘The treehouse?’ he barks, and Jesse flinches. ‘The fucking treehouse?’

Jesse opens his mouth then closes it again. He looks around wildly and that’s when he spots the three kids hiding behind a bush further back. They’ve followed him. He recognises Willow Harrison’s black hair. Just like everyone else, they obviously suspect him of doing something bad to Paddy…

‘Paddy’s missing,’ he says.

‘Yes, I know. I’m not talking about that.’

‘But is it related?’

‘How can it be related, you fucking little scrote? What the hell are you implying?’

Jesse looks away, confused. ‘I don’t know. I thought-’

‘Don’t think.’ Mayfield winks at him. ‘You’ll hurt yourself. Let us worry about Paddy Finnis. That’s not your business.’

‘It is,’ he argues. ‘People think I did something to him!’

‘And did you? I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘No! Why would I? We were…’ Jesse stops. He shakes his head and looks down at his lap.

‘You were what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘That’s right. It doesn’t. We’ll find Paddy and by the way, I watched the footage. That’s not your usual group of friends and I didn’t like how nosy they all were.’ Mayfield raises his eyebrows, expecting Jesse to detect the threat in his tone.

He does. He swallows and lowers his eyes. ‘I can’t help it if the new girl followed me. She saw us together and thought it was weird.’

‘Yeah, well, anyway,’ Mayfield clears his throat. ‘I’m not here to talk about Paddy or those other kids. I’ve got your stinking old man in a cell right now.’

Jesse frowns. ‘Why?’

‘Why? Because I can, that’s why. If you want him back you better play ball, understand sunshine?’

Jesse looks away. ‘You mean the camera.’

Sergeant Mayfield cocks a finger at him. ‘Jackpot.’

‘You want me to get it.’

‘No, I want you to put it back. Here.’ Mayfield digs the small black camera out of his pocket and presses it into his hand. Of course, he’s already been back to the treehouse, he’s searched it while pretending to care about Paddy… ‘It’s no good to my investigation in a kids fucking treehouse, is it? Put it in the shop or the flat like I fucking told you to in the first place.’

Jesse turns it over in his hands, wondering if it picked up anything interesting. He pockets it and nods at Mayfield.

‘Yeah, I will.’

‘Soon as you can.’

Jesse reaches for the door handle. ‘Okay.’

He wants to ask why the hell Mayfield can’t plant his own damn cameras but he also wants to get as far away as possible as soon as he can.

Mayfield picks up his police baton and presses it up under Jesse’s chin. Jesse freezes, not breathing.

‘Tick tock,’ he says. ‘The longer I keep your old man locked up, the sooner social services will come sniffing around. There are lots of lovely foster parents waiting to get their God-fearing claws into a wayward bastard like you, Jesse Archer. Including the good vicar Roberts. Including me. Got it?’

Jesse nods. Keeps quiet. He has heard this threat before and it terrifies him.

‘Good. Get out.’

2

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ralph hisses under his breath. ‘What is going on between those two?’

‘I think he’s threatening him,’ Jaime says, her eyes fixed on the police baton that is holding Jesse’s chin up. She pulls out her camera and zooms in. ‘He’s terrified.’

‘What the hell…’ Willow murmurs behind her.

Jaime takes a picture then they all duck down behind the bush again as Jesse finally gets out of the police car. He heads, shoulders slumped and eyes down, towards his block of flats.

‘Do we go after him?’ wonders Ralph.

Jaime watches Jesse disappear inside the building. ‘I feel sorry for him,’ she states. ‘It looks like he’s being threatened or blackmailed.’ She turns to Willow and Ralph, noting the utter confusion on their faces. ‘What do you think? You know them both better than me. What did we just witness?’

Ralph shrugs and pockets his hands. ‘Looked like it to me. I’ve never had any bother with Sergeant Mayfield before but for some reason, he does give me the creeps.’

‘Like Vicar Roberts,’ Willow says.

‘Who?’ Jaime frowns at her.

‘Doesn’t matter. Come on, we need to go to Paddy’s and see if there’s been any news.’ She strides off, leading the way briskly before either of them can argue.

3

Jesse takes out the key he wears around his neck and lets himself into the flat. His mind is so occupied by the camera and what might be on it that at first he doesn’t fully absorb the scene he has walked into.

‘Hey Jess, wanna join in?’

He blinks and snaps out of his daydream. Wyatt is lying buck naked on the sofa with an equally naked girl straddling him. Wyatt doesn’t seem to notice Jesse and neither does the girl – they are both far too busy throwing back their heads and moaning in what appears to be a grossly over-exaggerated way.

Billy is behind the camera on a tripod, and he grins wolfishly at Jesse who can only stare back in utter horror.

‘Billy! What the hell?’

‘Adult films, Jess, you wanna get in on it? We’re gonna make a killing!’

‘God, no!’

Jesse covers his eyes whilst his oldest brother laughs. He is used to walking in on dodgy deals and hastily hidden stolen goods, but this is a new one. His eldest brother Billy might as well be the man of the house at age twenty; he does far more to bring money in than their father does and this is obviously one of his latest schemes. Wyatt is nineteen and has always followed Billy around like a lovesick puppy. Jesse remembers his mother saying that Wyatt was special because he hadn’t been blessed with a full set of cards. Jesse isn’t sure about that, but he does know Wyatt has never liked him and the two of them have never been close.

He supposes it’s similar to the awkward trio he has always had with Steven and Dominic. Three really is a crowd, and with his older brothers, he always feels like he is just in their way and that they don’t really have the time or the energy to get to know him.

He backs into the hallway, fumbles behind him for the door handle, then falls clumsily into the bedroom he shares with Wyatt and Billy. He slams the door, leans back on it then sags slowly to the floor.

‘Come on, Jess, what’s wrong with you?’ he hears Billy yelling after him while Wyatt and the girl laugh. ‘Bout time you lost your cherry or people will start calling you a faggot!’

Jesse covers his ears and tries to block them out.

It takes a few minutes to wipe the scene from his mind but eventually he parts his fingers and peers out at the bedroom. It’s a tiny narrow room, with bunkbeds against the wall to the left and one single against the wall to the right. There are no sheets and no pillows, just bundles of unwashed blankets and a chaos of clothes. More clothes, shoes and broken electrical equipment spews out from under the beds. The walls are covered in posters of naked women and behind them, the old Superman wallpaper is damp with mould. The window is smashed and taped up with cardboard. The light hasn’t worked for the past two years.

Under the window are a stack of cardboard boxes, more than likely all containing stolen goods. Jesse hides behind his hands again as Wyatt and the girl continue to moan and shout on the other side of the closed door. He feels a wetness leaking from his eyes and is shocked that this day has brought him to tears – the first time he has cried in five years.

4

They approach the shop with purpose but soon slow down when they see the activity going on. Two police cars are parked outside and Sergeant Mayfield has beaten them here and is inside the shop talking to Paddy’s father.

Willow is unsure how to proceed. She has hated Jesse Archer for so long that it feels unnatural to protect him – but she has to agree with Jaime; he really did look terrified of Sergeant Mayfield. She turns quickly to the others.

‘Play it cool and follow my lead.’

Ralph and Jaime exchange a nervous glance but nod obediently. Willow enters the shop and is immediately swallowed up in a near-hysterical hug from a distraught Mr Finnis. She fights for balance while he’s gripping her shoulders as if afraid to let her go. Then he suddenly releases her, wipes his face with both hands, standing stiffly and biting at his lip.

‘Is there any news?’ Willow manages to ask, as he shakes her head in misery.

‘No, nothing. Which is just so strange, I mean, Paddy… You know Paddy! He wouldn’t want me to worry like this. Willow, are you sure you haven’t heard from him? Or did he say anything to you? Anything odd? Maybe he wanted you to go somewhere with him or do something?’

‘No, nothing, I’m so sorry Mr Finnis.’

Mr Finnis tries and fails to compose himself, dropping his hands and gesturing wildly as he wails, ‘It just makes no sense!’

‘I know,’ Willow agrees, her gaze shifting to Sergeant Mayfield. ‘This isn’t like Paddy at all. He wouldn’t just leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone.’

Sergeant Mayfield smiles patiently and crooks his finger at her. ‘Could you kids please follow me back here a moment?’

He backs down to the conservatory and they follow silently while Mr Finnis continues to sob. Mayfield ushers them inside and shuts the door. The small conservatory is stiflingly hot as the sun beats down on the garden that had been so storm battered just yesterday.

‘Willow Harrison.’ Sergeant Mayfield flips open his little notepad and his stubby yellow pencil hovers above a fresh page. ‘You first. You said something very interesting to Mr Hewlett at school today.’

She frowns, gazing away at the bright array of houseplants Mr Finnis has been cultivating as she considers Jesse Archer with the police baton pressed up under his chin. She swallows nervously. Her eyes automatically moving to the baton resting against Mayfield’s broad thigh.

He’s watching her carefully. ‘About Jesse Archer,’ he presses her when she doesn’t immediately respond. He flips over a page and peruses his earlier notes. ‘You said, and I quote, ‘he’s been hanging around Paddy. I don’t know why. They’re not friends. If Paddy is missing it has something to do with him.’ What exactly did you mean by that?’ He looks up from his notepad, eyes narrow.

Willow stares at Mayfield and pictures the terror on Jesse Archer’s face. What the hell had been going on between them in that car? She forces a smile.

‘I don’t know to be honest. I think I got it wrong, sir. I think they might actually be friends.’

‘Oh? What’s changed your mind?’

‘Well, we were all here together yesterday in the treehouse and Paddy was really relaxed with Jesse. Right, guys?’

‘More than happy to have him there,’ says Ralph as he and Jaime nod in unison.

‘Seemed absolutely fine,’ adds Jaime, her cheeks reddening.

‘So, you’re all friends then?’ Mayfield lowers the notepad and scrutinises them with narrowed eyes.

Willow grimaces and tries not to panic under his steely gaze. ‘Not exactly. Sort of. I mean, maybe.’

Mayfield exhales in irritation. He sticks one leg forward and rests on the other hip. ‘So, you don’t think Jesse Archer has anything to do with Paddy being missing?’

Willow shrugs. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘So why on earth did you say what you did?’

‘Um. Well.’ Now it’s Willow’s turn to blush. She clasps her hands together and scuffs one foot against the shabby linoleum. ‘I’ve just never liked Jesse and I was suspicious about him making friends with Paddy, because he’s always been a bit of a bully, see. But I realise now that Paddy was fine with it, fine with him and Paddy’s not an idiot. So, you know. He seemed really comfortable with him, which makes me think I was probably massively over-reacting.’

Mayfield’s eyes bore into hers, unflinching. ‘Over-reacting, you say? So you don’t think Archer was winding him up then? Stringing him along? Creating a false sense of security or something like that?’

‘I just don’t know, sir. I really don’t. They just seemed fine together. Like friends.’

‘No matter.’ Mayfield snaps the book shut. ‘We’ll be bringing him in for questioning anyway.’

‘Are there any clues?’ Jaime bursts out and when Willow looks at her she can see the girl is almost about to explode with questions.

‘Not really.’ Mayfield shakes his head regretfully. ‘Welcome to town, by the way. And don’t let this put you off, will you? This is very unusual. We have a very low crime rate here and we’re very confident Paddy will turn up just fine.’

Sergeant Mayfield reaches for the door handle.

‘Did he take his coat and shoes?’ Willow asks, needing to know more. ‘Mr Hewlett said he didn’t. Is that true?’

‘We’re not sure. We’re still checking.’

‘Did he take a bag? Or a torch?’

‘Not that we know of, no.’

‘What about money?’ Willow presses as Mayfield opens the door end edges out.

‘We’re still checking.’ He smiles at her gently. ‘All I can say is there was no sign of a break-in, no sign of intruders. No note left for his father. It would appear that he left of his own accord and in good health. That’s all I can say for now, kids. We’ve got a lot to get on with.’

He gives them all a sympathetic smile before leaving and closing the conservatory door behind him.

‘Doesn’t make sense.’ Willow is shaking her head and biting at her thumbnail. She turns in a circle. ‘Kids just don’t vanish. Paddy wouldn’t just go off. I mean, where the hell would he go in the middle of the night on his own? And why? He would have told me. I’m his best friend.’

She suddenly feels bereft, close to tears. This can’t really be happening. It can’t be real. Things like this only happen in movies and books. Her heart pounds with fear. What if he doesn’t come back? What if they never find him? What will she do without her one true friend? Then she pictures poor Mr Finnis and her heart breaks all over again. Paddy’s mother succumbed to breast cancer when he was just seven years old. Willow doesn’t remember a lot of that time, but she does remember holding Paddy’s hand at the cemetery, feeling his thin fragile fingers clinging to hers as his mother was lowered into the ground.

It’s not fair, she thinks, they’re such good people, they don’t deserve this.

She feels Jaime’s hand, warm and firm on her shoulder, holding her still. ‘Willow, why don’t we search the treehouse while we’re here? And then come with me to the chemist. I want to get these pictures developed. You never know; we might find a clue.’

Willow nods. She feels hope and looks at Jaime gratefully. The girl is right. They are not helpless; they can do something. There has to be something somewhere, an answer, a clue, something. Kids don’t just vanish into thin air.

5

When night falls, Billy kicks open the bedroom door and sends Jesse sprawling. He picks himself up and faces his brother.

‘Is dad really at the police station?’

Billy pushes impatiently past him and starts rummaging under the bed. ‘Yep, they picked him up off the floor at The Old Fort. Drunk as fuck.’

‘Why haven’t they let him go yet?’

‘Dunno. Probably letting him sleep it off. Hey, Don’s downstairs with his dogs. You want to come coursing with us?’ Billy finds what he is looking for: a huge lamp, the type used to locate and confuse hares so the running dogs have a head start in chasing them down.

Jesse shakes his head. He can’t stand the sight of blood, or the pitiful screams of the hares when the dogs catch them.

‘You two are gonna hang around though?’ he asks his brother. ‘Mayfield was threatening me with foster care again.’

Billy laughs. ‘Yeah, yeah, we’re around, chill out. You sure you don’t want in? Make some money. I got fifty quid on that leggy yellow freak of his.’

‘I’m sure. Billy?’

‘What?’

‘Is there a way to check this camera and see what’s on it?’ Jesse holds out the device for Billy to see. Billy plucks it curiously from his hands.

‘Hey, that’s tiny. Never seen one so small. You steal it?’

‘Sort of. Can we see what’s on it?’

‘Take it to Hairy Dave in the hardware shop.’ Billy turns it over in his hands. ‘Tell him I sent you. He’ll hook it up to his computer and leave you alone with it for a price.’ Billy winks at Jesse.

‘It’s nothing like that.’

‘No, no. Course not.’ A smile spreads across Billys’ face.

Jesse rolls his eyes. ‘What price? What will he want?’

Billy turns to the cardboard boxes and rummages again. He moves DVD’s to one side then finally pulls out two and shoves them at Jesse.

‘That should do it.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

Jesse doesn’t want to know what’s on the DVD’s to placate pervy Hairy Dave, but he really, badly needs to know what’s on Mayfield’s camera.

6

The Hare and Hound is warm and welcoming. Mark has lit a fire in the main lounge and the old folks are gathered around it as the evening draws in. Mark is a popular figure, never without a smile, as he strolls around the pub he was raised in, with a checked bar cloth thrown over one shoulder. Jaime likes coming home to the pub after school. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement and she’s breathless with hope and belonging as she rushes in through the front door and makes her way over to the bar.

Mark welcomes her home with a hug and fires quick questions at her as he simultaneously puts a drink order together for an elderly couple.

‘Sounds great!’ he exclaims when Jaime checks if it’s okay if Willow and Ralph come over after dinner. His expression changes when she adds the bit about Paddy being missing and he reaches out and pats her shoulder in a comforting manner. ‘Ah, I know, love. It’s all over town about the Finnis boy but they’ll find him, I’m sure. Teenagers do run off from time to time, you know.’

Jaime doesn’t like to point out that Paddy really didn’t seem the type, so she just smiles and nods and agrees that of course he will be found.

‘And it’s great you’ve made some pals already,’ Mark adds with genuine warmth in his eyes. ‘Your mum will be pleased. Didn’t I tell you this was a great little town?’

Despite the missing boy and the undeniably dodgy Sergeant Mayfield, Jaime has to agree. So far, Black Hare Valley has welcomed and intrigued her; it’s both terrifying and exciting and the perfect training ground for her future career. And now the roll of film has been handed in to the chemist, she feels they’re one step closer to lining up the clues. She’s excited to show Ralph and Willow the photo of Jesse Archer being marched to the police car in handcuffs and then released again after that strange exchange of gifts. None of it adds up. They have to wait a few days for the photos and in the meantime they need to make a plan and they need to talk to Jesse…

She bumps into her mum in the hallway, zipping an anorak up over her bump. ‘Oh, hi love! How did it go?’

‘Brilliant! I’ve got two friends coming over after dinner. Mark said it’d be okay?’

Catherine’s face fills with pure relief and she reaches out to excitedly squeeze Jaime’s plump cheeks.

‘Oh, baby, that’s great news! I’m so proud of you. Listen, I’ve cooked a cottage pie already. You and Mark help yourselves whenever you like. Meals are going to be grab when you can until we get all the rotas sorted out. Is that okay?’

‘Yeah course, where are you going?’

Catherine picks up her handbag and slings it over one shoulder. She gives Jaime a sardonic look. ‘I only got myself roped into this Neighbourhood Watch thing they have here, didn’t I? Well, I thought why not? It’s a good way to get to know people and it could be fun.’

Jaime grins and heads up the stairs. ‘Sounds good, Mum. See you later then.’

7

Sergeant Mayfield is met on the driveway by an exuberant and slobbery yellow Labrador.

‘Behave yourself, Horatio.’ A voice cuts through the darkness of the fields to the left and Mayfield looks up to see Mayor Sumner striding towards him with a rifle in hand.

‘Bit late for pheasant shooting,’ he remarks, letting the Labrador lick his hand.

Mayor Sumner holds two up by their necks. ‘Not really.’

He nods, impressed. ‘Never one to sit still are you, Margaret?’

She sniffs, her nostrils flared as she scans the dark perimeter of her land and listens out for the telltale signs of tires on gravel.

‘There were poachers down the bottom,’ she says, airily. ‘Same group I’ve seen before.’

‘You got names? I’ll bring them in.’

She waves a hand. ‘No, no leave them. You can’t eradicate criminality, Aaron. You can only control it. Besides, I have enough pheasants to go around.’

‘Still,’ he says, as they start to walk towards the house, ‘I’d like to have their names. I can deliver a warning, let them know I’ve got my eye on them.’

‘Blackmail them more like.’ Margaret looks at him sideways and smiles. He doesn’t smile back. She rolls her eyes. ‘Okay, have it your way. If you must know it was the older Archer boys and some of their cronies. Don’t worry, I saw them off. They won’t be back in a hurry.’

Mayfield’s lips twist. ‘That family…’

Margaret laughs at him. ‘You really ought to let it go, Aaron. They’re no threat, not one single one of them. Never have been. Now, come inside. No one else has arrived yet but you can bet the vicar and Sylvia will be early. They always are.’

Margaret opens the double doors to her home and they walk side by side into the vast hallway, their shoes clacking on the ancient stone floor. Margaret strips off her wax jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, then calmly peels off her shooting gloves. Mayfield waits, still and patient, watching her carefully as she kicks off her boots.

‘Oh, and the new woman is coming,’ Margaret reports, talking over her shoulder as she strides briskly into the hall. Margaret Sumner has a neat and athletic figure, one that belies her age. Like Mayfield, she has the fitness and strength of someone twenty years younger. She opens the door to her study, walks in and unlocks the gun cabinet.

Mayfield waits in the doorway, still bristling at the thought of poachers. ‘Oh, that’s good. I know you’re keen for newbies since Iris and Bob left us. I actually met her daughter today.’

‘Jaime. Yes, a lovely girl.’

Mayfield nods. ‘Yes, she was. Well, I look forward to meeting her mother. It will be nice to have fresh blood for a change. Any other offers of help?’

‘No, don’t be silly.’ Margaret locks the gun cabinet and Mayfield steps aside as she paces out of the study and closes the door behind her. ‘You know this lot, always full of excuses. Too busy, too tired. Quite happy to leave the hard work to the rest of us. You know how it is.’

He glances at the ceiling with a sigh. ‘I do.’

‘Come on then, let’s have a drink before they arrive.’

‘Is Hilda coming down?’

Margaret walks into the drawing room. It’s the largest room in the grand three storey house and boasts a large stone fireplace, as well as two huge sash windows on each wall. Just like her bedroom which is directly above, the room gives an almost 360 degree view of the long winding road into town. The walls are dressed in rich red and gold wallpaper. A closer inspection reveals a tiny repeated scene of a horseman, a hound and a hare.

In between the windows stand tall bookshelves of dark oak. They are filled with old books, framed photographs and riding trophies. Over the fireplace hangs a large gold-framed painting of a family dressed in 18th century attire, who are very clearly ancestors of Mayor Margaret Sumner.

She strides over to the drinks cabinet and fills two tumblers with ice before drizzling whisky on top.

‘No,’ she says, returning to the fire to hand Mayfield his drink. ‘She’s particularly tired today. Always better to leave her alone when she’s tired.’

‘Fair enough.’ Mayfield raises his drink. ‘To order.’

She raises hers. ‘Indeed.’

The fireplace is surrounded by a semi-circle of old, hard-backed chairs dressed in soft velour of various colours. They do not sit. There are dishes of snacks already laid out on the sideboard for the committee.

‘Anyway, I’m taking the youngest boy in for questioning tomorrow.’

Margaret does not try to hide her amusement. ‘Oh, are you now?’

‘Yes. Have to. The Harrison girl said he’d been bullying Paddy Finnis so it’s worth talking to him.’

‘You’re obsessed, Aaron. Just like with his father…’

He exhales. ‘It’s just… I’ve said it before, Margaret. That family are a stain on this good town and he’s no better. I caught him trying to blow up the school for crying out loud. How much more do we take? I ask you. Little shit needs a good hiding.’

Now Margaret laughs at him. ‘Oh, Aaron! Don’t be such a martyr and stop kidding yourself. It’s a gift to you and this town every time that boy gets in trouble. You wouldn’t have it any other way and you know it. You’d be bored without him.’

Mayfield winces before sipping his drink. ‘He’s the one who should be missing…’

She elbows him. ‘And what fun would you have then, eh? Don’t be so melodramatic, Aaron. Like I said already, you can’t eradicate criminality, but you can control it. And a town must be balanced. There’s no such thing as perfection and you know it.’

‘Well, anyway.’ Mayfield clears his throat and stares at the fire. ‘I assume I do have your permission to take him in?’

‘Do what you need to do, of course.’

He nods his head in thanks.

Margaret steps back from the flames. ‘I think I hear the gravel. Our guests have arrived, Aaron.’

8

Jaime sticks the first Post-It note on the wall above her bed. Written across the bright yellow square of paper is: approx. 12.30pm Jaime sees Jesse Archer in handcuffs with Mayfield.

Willow is standing at the window gazing out at the high street. Her top teeth pull constantly at her lower lip and every now and then she releases a solemn sigh. Ralph feels for her. He’s been looking for a decent sidekick his whole life. Willow’s is missing. He can only imagine how lost she feels.

‘Next week we’ll have a photo to go with it,’ Jaime says, her eyes sparkling. She scribbles on another note and slaps it on the wall next to the first. ‘I don’t know the exact times,’ she explains. ‘I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch at this point. But next, Jesse and Sergeant Mayfield get in the police car and after a few minutes, they drive off.’

Jaime is already scribbling on another note. ‘Next, I follow the car and it stops outside the bookshop. Zooming in with the lens I see the policeman take the cuffs off Jesse. Then…’ she slaps that note to the wall and starts a new one, ‘Jesse starts taking things out of his pockets and handing them over.’

‘Stuff he stole,’ Willow mutters from the window.

‘Presumably, but we’ll have to ask him at some point. Then, Sergeant Mayfield gave him something in return and he put it in his pocket.’

‘Did you see what it was?’ asks Ralph.

‘Nope.’ Jaime shakes her head. ‘I zoomed in a bit more and took more photos but I couldn’t make it out. Hopefully one of the photos will show it or Jesse will just tell us.’

‘So then what?’ Ralph presses.

‘Then…’ She starts writing again and slaps another note to the wall. ‘Jesse gets out and goes into the bookshop and the sergeant drives off.’

Willow turns to face them, her arms folded wearily. ‘So, at the very least we can assume that Sergeant Mayfield is as crooked as they come.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ Ralph breathes, shaking his head. ‘He comes into school all the time and does those talks. He’s a policeman!’

‘We don’t know anything for sure until we talk to Jesse,’ Jaime reminds them.

‘And that’s only if he tells the truth,’ adds Willow. ‘And he was definitely lying to us yesterday with all that bullshit about trespassing…’

‘Anyway, next up.’ Jaime is already scribbling on another sticky note. ‘I go around the back of the shop.’

‘Yeah, why did you do that?’ asks Willow. ‘Why not go through the shop?’

‘I didn’t want him to see me,’ Jaime replies with a shrug. ‘Through the window I saw Mr Finnis showing him out the back so I figured I couldn’t just barge on in behind him, could I? So I went around the back and found the gate and the treehouse.’

‘Not long after that, I arrived.’ Willow nods at Jaime. ‘Write that down.’

Jaime obeys and sticks the next note to the wall.

‘Then me,’ says Ralph. ‘Do we know how much time in between us all getting there?’ He looks at the girls. ‘Does it even matter?’

‘Probably not,’ replies Willow. ‘What matters more is what happened after we left.’

‘Jesse left first,’ relays Jaime, adding a new note. ‘Then me and Ralph together about ten minutes after? The rain had stopped. Or it wasn’t as bad.’

‘I walked you home,’ grins Ralph, shifting on the bed. ‘And we arranged to walk to school together the next day.’

Willow rolls her eyes. ‘I stayed another hour or so with Paddy. Again, I didn’t pay much attention to the time.’

‘And how did Paddy seem then? After we left?’ Jaime looks at her expectantly and already has a pen poised over an open notebook to record her answer.

Willow appears to consider this for a moment. Her head drops back to rest lightly on the window pane. Her arms remain folded as she stares at the wall of notes.

Finally, she lifts and drops her shoulders. ‘He was fine. Write that down, Jaime. He was normal, happy, Paddy. We argued a bit about Jesse. I said he was up to something and couldn’t be trusted and Paddy just laughed and told me not to be so cynical all the time. He said he and Jesse had been getting on fine. And then we just talked about this story we’ve been writing. You know, throwing ideas around.’

Jaime writes all this down and adds it to the wall. ‘What story?’

Willow shrugs irritably. ‘Just some stupid story. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Okay,’ says Jaime. ‘Now, what about the stuff we weren’t witness to? What do we know about what Paddy did after you left, Willow?’

She grasps her arms and rubs her hands up and down as if chilled. ‘I couldn’t get much sense out of his dad; you saw the state he was in and how useless Sergeant Mayfield was. But according to Mr Finnis nothing out of the ordinary happened. Paddy had dinner with him and got his stuff ready for school the next day. He had a bath. Went to bed. Read probably, knowing him.’

‘Then in the morning he was gone.’ Ralph speaks the words in a hushed tone, his eyes averted to the floor. ‘It’s just so weird…’

‘There’ll be more news soon,’ says Jaime firmly, sitting on the bed and crossing her legs. ‘They’ll search his room and the treehouse. They’ll look for fingerprints and stuff like that. I mean, it was wet, right? If he left for some reason, there’d be footprints.’

Willow nods, her face pale. ‘I’ll go over there tomorrow. I need to check on his dad. He has no one else.’

‘What happened to Paddy’s mum?’ Jaime asks softly.

‘Breast cancer,’ replies Willow, with a visible wince. ‘It was awful actually. We were only seven but I remember how horrible it was for Paddy and his dad. So yeah, I need to keep an eye on his dad. He’s always been good to me. Paddy would want me to check in on him.’

‘He might have turned up by then,’ Ralph shrugs and desperately wants it to be true. None of this makes sense, he thinks. Kids don’t just vanish without a trace. His mind jumps then to the strange footprint and the missing mould he tried to take of it. He almost mentions it but somehow it doesn’t feel like the right moment. Willow looks distraught; totally lost.

‘Tomorrow we speak to Jesse,’ she says then.

‘How?’ asks Jaime. ‘When?’

Willow thinks for a moment, then says, ‘Leave early, both of you. We’ll go to his block and meet him coming out. That way we can grill him on the way to school.’

Ralph and Jaime nod together. ‘Good plan,’ smiles Ralph,

‘He must know something,’ adds Willow, softly. ‘And we’ll find out what it is.’

9

Margaret Sumner never sits during the meetings. She’ll occasionally perch on the arm of a chair, but tonight the meeting is full and they have their brand new recruit. It’s far too exciting to sit. She holds court, standing almost in the middle of the semi-circle of chairs, all now gathered around the fireplace. She bobs up and down with plates of snacks. She pours drinks and hands them out and smiles her gracious smile at all times. She truly is glad to have them all here and there is a definite thrum of excitement in the room. She can feel it in the air, in the polished oak floorboards under her feet and in her very bones.

‘Before we even consult tonight’s official agenda, we must of course warmly welcome the newest resident to Black Hare Valley, Catherine Aster.’

Margaret bows her head slightly and a little smattering of polite applause goes around the half circle. Catherine looks comfortable: fresh, plump and warm in the comfiest chair with a glass of water in one hand and a plate of snacks balanced on her swollen belly. She’s caught mid-mouthful and can only giggle and flush and wave an embarrassed hand as she swallows the lump of cake.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she says finally, as the committee lean forward hungrily. ‘Thanks for making me feel so welcome here. And my daughter too. She’s had a lovely first day at school and she’s made some friends already.’

Margaret feels Aaron’s eyes fall briefly on her but doesn’t look back. She knows he will be desperate to warn the poor woman to keep her daughter away from the Archer boys.

‘That’s wonderful,’ Margaret beams at Catherine.

Mr Bishop nods, a cheese and cucumber sandwich in one hand, a whisky in the other. ‘That’s very good to hear,’ he says, speaking through his food. ‘We pride ourselves on being a friendly safe town and that extends to the school, of course. I’m the head of the secondary – I believe we spoke on the phone before you moved here?’

‘Oh yes, of course! So lovely to meet you in person!’

‘And let me introduce you to Neville Hewlett, the pastoral worker at the school. He does a lot of valuable youth work across both schools and of course with the church and at the community centre too.’

Catherine turns her head to smile politely at Neville Hewlett, who gives a little wave with one of his smooth, pudgy hands.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ he tells her. ‘We have a really good relationship with the kids in school and at the community centre we run a lot of activities. You must send your daughter along. There’s so much for them to do.’

‘Brilliant, I will do!’

‘We like to keep the young folk busy,’ Mr Bishop adds. ‘Keeps them out of trouble!’

‘Wonderful! I quite agree.’

‘And this is vicar Greg Roberts,’ Margaret gestures to the man on her left sat closest to the fire. The thin red-haired man immediately rearranges his ordinarily dour expression and smiles at Catherine.

‘Good to meet you, Catherine. Many congratulations to you and Mark!’

‘Thank you so much! It’s so good to meet you too.’

‘We always welcome new members to Saint Marks and we have a Sunday school and youth group as well. Oh, and there’s the choir!’

‘Sounds lovely!’ Catherine takes a quick bite of cake while the vicar lightly touches the arm of the small woman beside him. She’s young but dresses like someone at least ten years older. ‘This is Sylvia Gordan, my plucky assistant.’

‘Hello, nice to meet you.’ She leans forward with a small smile and a slight flick of her wrist which may have been a small wave. ‘I run the Sunday school and both the choirs, and I also teach piano at the secondary school.’

‘How wonderful!’ Catherine smiles back at her before her attention moves on to the grey-haired woman who is next in the semi-circle.

‘Eugenie Spires, librarian,’ the woman informs her in a firm, somewhat stern tone. She is not eating and holds a tiny teacup in one hand, its matching saucer in the other. She has grey hair worn in a low pony-tail with a severe middle parting. Her very dark eyes stare at Catherine from behind thick-lensed glasses. Margaret watches patiently; she doesn’t think she has ever seen Eugenie smile.

‘Well, that’s everyone,’ she tells Catherine. ‘And now seven become eight. Although of course, our ideal number is nine.’

Catherine leans forward. ‘Oh, really? Why’s that? Do neighbourhood watch groups have to have a certain amount of members?’

Margaret smiles sweetly and swaps a discreet glance with Aaron. ‘No, not specifically but there are of course many, many spiritual and numerical meanings attached to the number nine and we’ve always quite liked that, as a group. Not that we pertain to any particular faith or belief, of course! Our role is exactly what you would expect from a neighbourhood watch group. We want this town to be the best it can be for everyone in it. Do you have any questions, Catherine? Is there anything we can help you with at all before we get down to business?’

‘Oh no.’ Catherine’s eyes widen and she touches her chin. She seems like a people-pleaser, Margaret decides, like her daughter. ‘I don’t think so. Just thank you so much for making us feel so welcome here. My daughter, Jaimie, was bullied badly at her last school and it really knocked her confidence, so it’s wonderful to see how quickly she is settling here already. She even has new friends around at ours right now!’

Margaret can see how delighted and surprised by this Catherine feels. She eyes Aaron and gives him a small nod. Might as well let him get it over with.

‘That’s great,’ he says to Catherine. ‘Who’s she hooked up with so far then?’

To Catherine this must seem an innocent question but Margaret knows it is anything but.

‘Oh, a boy called Ralph,’ replies Catherine and everyone responds with noises of approval. Aaron smiles in relief.

‘Ralph Maxwell,’ says Margaret with an edge of pride to her voice. ‘He’s a lovely boy, Catherine. Your daughter will be just fine with him. His mother, Charlotte, works for me here on the farm and she’s an absolute god-send.’

‘She’s an angel,’ Neville Hewlett agrees. ‘She’s got a lot of community spirit, that one.’

‘She had Ralph quite young,’ Margaret goes on. ‘And then she was sadly widowed when he was just a toddler, but nothing gets in her way. She’s invaluable to me here, and Ralph is a great kid. Very well behaved and very outdoorsy, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Mr Bishop chimes in next. ‘And he’s a wonderful lad. No trouble at all at school.’

‘That’s so good to know,’ Catherine grins around at them all. ‘Oh and Willow is the other one.’

‘Willow Harrison,’ Margaret nods and can’t resist shooting a look at Vicar Roberts. His eyes narrow slightly and his chin wobbles before he can compose himself. He gives a little chuckle.

‘No trouble at school either,’ Mr Bishop feels the need to point out, but there are no further remarks from the committee and a sort of hush falls over them. Margaret examines Catherine and sees the woman’s forehead wrinkle in concern as her eyes lower and she bites at her lip.

‘Willow of course must be extremely worried about Paddy Finnis,’ Margaret speaks up for them all. They all drop their eyes and nod solemnly.

‘Has anyone heard anything?’ Catherine asks. ‘My Jaime met Paddy yesterday and he welcomed her in, let her go up in his treehouse, she said. That’s how she met Ralph and Willow, oh, and another boy, Jesse Archer I think she said?’

An instant grumble goes around the room and Catherine looks confused, wondering if she has said or done something wrong. Aaron shifts in his chair.

‘I’d probably advise her to stay away from the Archer boy.’

‘Oh?’

Aaron looks grim. ‘Nothing but trouble, the whole family. In fact, I’m taking him in for questioning first thing tomorrow. It would appear he was bullying Paddy Finnis over the summer.’

‘Oh no!’ Catherine’s face crumples.

‘Oh well, that explains it all then!’ Bishop sighs angrily, his hands dangling between his spread legs. The others nod in agreement.

‘Ran off for a bit then,’ Sylvia Gordon agrees.

Everyone nods and mumbles. Margaret knows she has to distract them.

‘Obviously, number one on tonight’s agenda is helping the Finnis family in any way we possibly can.’ She raises her eyebrows at Sylvia who starts scratching a black biro across the pages of a small notebook. ‘I’ll go over in the morning and I do hope you can all drop by at some point and offer what you can. I hear there’s going to be a search tomorrow, Sergeant, is that correct?’

‘From 12pm,’ he nods. ‘We’ll need as many spare hands as possible for that too, so spread the word, folks. There’s got to be some sign of him somewhere.’

‘Of course,’ agrees Margaret. ‘Now Catherine, before we move on I must reassure you that this is a very rare occurrence. We are a particularly safe town with an extremely low crime rate.’

‘Oh, I can see that,’ Catherine nods happily. ‘And I’m sure he’ll be found quickly. Like you said, he probably just went off to escape his bully.’

They all nod. ‘I’m glad you see it that way,’ says Margaret. ‘And we really are very grateful to have you on board, Catherine. Of course, we understand that you’ll be busier once the baby arrives. At that point, any help at all will be appreciated, not expected.’

Catherine smiles gratefully and wraps her hands around her belly.

‘When are is you due, dear?’ asks Sylvia.

‘January the first!’

‘New Years Day,’ Sylvia grins back. ‘How lovely that would be! A brand new life for a brand new year!’

‘There’ll be plenty of babysitters lined up to help you,’ Vicar Roberts says. ‘We’re a real community here, Catherine and we all look out for each other.’

‘And you know what they say,’ purrs Margaret. She catches Aaron’s eye and winks. ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’

Thanks for reading!

Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this latest chapter.

NOTE: Please remember this is NOT the finished version of Black Hare Valley Book 1. This book has not been to my editor yet or even my beta readers. There will be typos, grammatical mistakes, and sentences that need rewriting.

COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Eight “Paddy Finnis”

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