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1

A silver moon shimmer behind the black clouds hanging lifelessly over the valley. Margaret Sumner ushes Aaron Mayfield out onto the patio and away from Hilda’s girlish giggling. As she bumps shut the Victorian French doors, Hilda’s nonsense is muted and contained within the lounge.

Mayfield glances back at her through the glass. She is sitting in her wheelchair clutching a ragdoll and chanting along to some rubbish on TV. The reflection of moving images dance across Mayor Sumner’s face as she lights a cigarette on the patio and draws on it hungrily, as if she has been craving it for a long time.

Mayfield is relieved to be on the other side of the door. He knows it’s silly but Hilda has always made him feel uncomfortable. Most of the time he simply finds her embarrassing to be around – a middle-aged woman who drools and wets herself, but sometimes she simply puts him on edge. Sometimes she stops her nonsense and stares at him so intently and sharply that he would swear the whole mentally handicapped thing is one big con.

Not tonight though. Tonight she’s babbling away like a confused and overtired two-year-old and he can tell that Margaret has had just about enough of it.

‘You should get some proper help,’ he comments then, lighting his own cigarette. ‘It’s not like you can’t afford it. Or put her somewhere.’

Margaret side-eyes him, her mouth a straight line. ‘I do have help. There’s plenty of folk I call on. Like Charlotte Maxwell for instance.’

Mayfield’s interest increases. He has always had a soft spot for the hard-working Maxwell girl. ‘I knew she worked for you, but I imagined it was on the farm.’

‘Oh yes, mostly, but she’s been so wonderful I’ve actually just elevated her to more of a general position.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, someone I can call on for a multitude of things. She’s so good with Hilda, for example, and Charlotte seems to appreciate a change of scenery every now and then. She’s perfectly capable with the sheep and the horses, for example, and perfectly able to fix fences, drive tractors, you name it. And I can call on her for Hilda if I need to.’

‘I see.’ Mayfield feels mildly jealous. ‘I assume you’ve increased her wages then?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Margaret sits with one arm folded over her trim middle. ‘I certainly have. And I’ve set in motion a plan to help her and Ralph get out of that caravan at last.’

‘All sounds wonderful.’

‘It will be. Our town rewards people like Charlotte Maxwell. Which brings me to the topic of the day. I hear Mr Archer is sleeping off his latest bender in one of your cells?’

Mayfield rolls his eyes and makes a sound of disgust. ‘You heard right. Useless scumbag has always had a problem with drink. Remember when he was a teenager? Jesus Christ, it was always him, wasn’t it? Any time there was any trouble, he was at the centre of it.’

‘I remember. Well, I think it’s time we took more of a hands on approach with his wayward son, don’t you agree?’

Mayfield perks up, turning to her, his eyes intense. ‘In what way?’

‘Well, we won’t be too hasty but you certainly have another reason to question him. Our source confirms that he was with Ralph Maxwell, the new girl, Jaime, and Willow Harrison at the ruins last Saturday.’ Margaret holds up a hand before he can explode. ‘And Charlotte asked Ralph directly if he and Jesse are hanging out these days and the boy was honest and said yes.’ She smiles a little at this. ‘Such an honest boy. Charlotte is worried, of course. On the one hand, she’s proud of his honesty and finds it sweet that he wants to give a bad apple a second chance, but quite rightly she’s also nervous of the Archer boy leading hers astray. He’s also two years above Ralph and one year above Willow and Jaime. It worries me that they’ll start looking up to him.’

Mayfield breaths in through his flared nostrils, puffing out his thick chest. ‘I’ll speak to him first thing. Lying little shit…’

‘Keep his father for leverage,’ shrugs Margaret.

‘I’ll suggest foster care with me or Hewlett again. That’ll shit him up.’

‘Or me,’ says Margaret, looking at him. ‘That’s another option, if it comes to it. Perhaps I could make use of him here.’

Mayfield sneers, genuinely appalled. ‘Why would you want to? He’s no good to anyone.’

‘Well now, that’s not true. He’s been very useful to you over the years, Aaron. You have to admit that whether you like it or not. He helped solve our little Finnis problem.’

Mayfield looks at the sky, shaking his head. ‘It should have been him. It should have been the bad apple, Margaret, I’m telling you. We missed an opportunity.’

‘Oh Aaron, will you let it go?’

‘No one ever listens to me,’ he seethes.

‘Well anyway. I suggest you speak to him but don’t be too heavy-handed just yet, Aaron. You catch more flies with honey, and all that.’

‘And what about them all being friends?’

She screws up her mouth, frowning. ‘We’ll watch them for now. Let them be, but watch them. Anything threatening and we’ll shut them down. Take Archer out of the equation.’

Mayfield nods but he’s rigid with anger. He’s still disappointed that the Archer scumbag walks free while the Finnis boy is gone. And to imagine Jesse Archer here, lounging around at Hill Fort Farm is galling. He says nothing, but sits simmering, smoking his cigarette.

2

Friday morning, Jesse leaves early again and makes his way quickly and stealthily around the back of the town. He wants it done. He doesn’t even care if he makes a mess of it or gets caught. He just wants it done and he wants the awful weight of it out of his pocket and out of his mind.

He creeps closer this time and when Iris Cotton has emerged to shuffle her way down to the lake, Jesse crawls on his belly through the trees and then crouches behind the back of the holly hedging at the side of her garden.

With her back turned, Jesse can see the back door to the kitchen is open a crack and the smell of baking bread wafts towards him. A fat black cat is curled up on the stone doorstep. Jesse moves instinctively, barely a thought in his head, except get it done, get it done. He leaps over the hedge, and it claws at him viciously, piercing and scratching the skin on his legs, backside and arms. Without even checking the coast is clear, Jesse legs it to the back door, steps over the cat who sits up, arching its back and hissing, and scans the kitchen wildly.

It’s a small room, with exposed grey bricks and thick wooden beams on the ceiling. The smell of bread dominates but under that he detects herbs and spices and something like charcoal. He spots a thick wooden shelf above the old Aga and crosses the room, reaching up to it. He pushes jars and pots aside and sets the camera up behind them. He arranges the dusty items in front of it, then steps back, almost stomping on the creature that has entered the kitchen via the hallway. He slaps a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming.

A slim white hare sits in the middle of the kitchen, one forepaw raised and quivering. It stares at him through huge red eyes, its whiskers twitching at the end of its elongated nose and flared nostrils.

Jesse thinks he must be dreaming, he must be seeing things. He has never seen a white hare before; didn’t even know they existed. He has never seen a live hare inside a house before. An image flashes through his head of the hare hanging over the bathtub at home and he backs out of the kitchen, hands held up as if to ward it off.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles then turns to run.

Jesse trips over the cat on the doorstep and sprawls face first into wet grass. His uniform is an absolute mess. He can’t go to school looking like this; Bishop will kill him. He doesn’t look back to see if the hare is watching. He just jumps up and throws himself at the hedge. Somehow, he battles his way through to the other side, battered and bloodied and panicked, then takes off through the trees. He’s messed up and he knows it. The whole thing was a complete disaster and all because he was too impatient and desperate to get it done so that he can focus on Paddy and the book.

Now, he emerges from the woods beside the church and is not surprised at all to see Sergeant Mayfield’s police car parked on the road there, waiting for him.

‘Get in, Archer,’ the familiar gravelly voice commands through the open window.

Jesse hesitates. He looks up and down the High Street which is already bustling with people going about their lives. He feels a stab of anger. Why can’t his life ever be peaceful? Why does it have to be such a constant horror show?

Mayfield leans over the passenger seat. ‘Get in yourself or I come over there, throw you to the ground and handcuff you in front of everyone. Is that what you want?’

Jesse sags. He pulls his backpack from his shoulders, opens the door and gets in. Instantly, the windows roll up and the doors lock. Mayfield taps his fingers across the top of his baton which is lying on his lap.

‘State of you,’ he sneers, looking Jesse up and down.

Jesse turns up his palms and examines the holly bush scratches. His whole body stings and itches from them and his trousers are covered in mud.

‘I did it,’ he sighs raggedly. ‘Black Hare Cottage. That’s why I’m such a mess. If I go to school like this, Mr Bishop will kill me.’

‘Well, what a dilemma,’ says Mayfield with a small smile. ‘Go to school like that and get in trouble or skip school and get in trouble.’ He leans towards Jesse and winks. ‘Tell you what, I’ll drop you off myself and put in a good word for you. I’ll tell Mr Bishop a feral dog chased you into the trees and you fell down in the mud.’

He grins widely and Jesse freezes, growing cold from his scalp to his toes. There is something wolfish and hungry about that sneering grin and there’s an undeniable stench too. Something earthy and meaty. Jesse presses himself into the locked passenger door.

Mayfield’s smile dims. ‘I thought I warned you about lying to me.’

Jesse frowns. ‘I didn’t-’

‘Shut up.’ His voice is cold and hard, his eyes dead. ‘You said you weren’t friends with those kids and that was a lie. Ralph Maxwell told his mother that you are indeed, friends.’ He says the word as if it offends him.

‘They just follow me around. I can’t help it.’

‘Is that so? And were you friends with Paddy Finnis too?’

Jesse stares at him. He feels a rare stirring of anger, of protest.

‘Yes, I was,’ he says, lifting his chin slightly. ‘I am. Why? What does any of it matter to you?’

Mayfield sits back, his large hands linked over the baton lying across his wide thighs. He sniffs. ‘Well, Jesse, a lot of people in this town are concerned about you. They see you very clearly going down the same road as your brothers and father and they wonder what they can do to help you.’

Jesse shakes his head. ‘No one wants to help me.’

‘Oh, come on, that’s not true. And with your father banged up yet again, tongues of concern have started to wag.’

Jesse looks down, his cheeks flushed with growing anger. ‘Back to this again. Look, I said I did the cottage! It’s done!’

‘Good. I’m glad,’ says Mayfield. ‘But that’s not what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about your father being unavailable and all the kindly committee folk lining up willing to take you in.’

Jesse swallows and shakes his head in horror. ‘I don’t need anyone to take me in.’

‘But just think how it could change your life, Archer. Think about a warm home, real food, a clean school uniform.’

He keeps shaking his head. ‘No thanks.’

Mayfield leans forward again, lifting up the baton and tapping the thick end into the palm of his hand. It makes a satisfying thwack sound and Jesse flinches, closing his eyes, and helplessly imagining the blind pain of it striking his kneecaps.

‘Well, you better not let me find you in any more trouble then. No break-ins, no trespassing. No vandalism or underage drinking. Because this is your last chance. It’s about time you learned your lesson.’ He runs a fat tongue over his lower lip. ‘And this town wants to teach you, Jesse. It really does.’ He grins and slips the baton away. ‘Seatbelt on,’ he commands as he ignites the engine. ‘I’ll drop you off and vouch for you like I said. You see, Jesse. It pays to keep on my good side.’

3

Willow takes the long way round to school. She leaves through the back, crossing through the field behind her home, her cloak fastened, her hood up and her headphones on. She’s listening to her favourite band, Sleater-Kinney sing ‘The Day I Went Away’ and as she walks down Taylor Drive, she keeps an eye out for Jesse Archer,  but she doesn’t see him. Just past his block there is a cluster of old oak trees between the final stretch of Taylor Drive and the vast expanse of fields and hills behind it. She walks among them, staring up at the power lines connecting the flats to the houses via various poles.

She feels defeated before it’s even begun. The town is full of trees but what chance do they have of finding one close to a power line? One ready to topple? Willow has also considered that a straight neat cut through with the chainsaw will look very suspicious indeed when people come to investigate the power outage. She wishes for a storm, a genuine power cut but knows she is being childish. Nothing is going to land in their laps. They have to make this happen.

A trio of magpies jump from branch to branch, their black and white feathers standing out against a bruised blue sky. The weather has not made its mind up yet. It’s hanging there, waiting for a mood to develop. She drifts between the trees, not expecting anything good to happen.

Her mood has been flagging all week. She misses Paddy more than she thought possible. She feels lost without him, like someone has cut off one of her limbs. Everywhere she goes she sees a memory of him, of them. Even these old oaks. She remember Paddy trying to make a treehouse in one before his dad let him make one in the back garden at home. He always had loved a treehouse – a bird’s eye view, a way to be closer to the sky and the stars.

Willow stops – her heart feels too heavy to move – and leans against a tree. Where are you Paddy? Where did you go? Are you okay? Are you ever coming back? Last night she attempted to feel close to him by trying to write more of their story, but the words just wouldn’t come. It’s usually her that writes while Paddy sits and throws ideas around verbally. He can never get the wording quite right, she thinks now, yet his ideas were always good. They worked well together like that. Sometimes she had even entertained the thought of finishing the story and getting it published one day. Now, that all feels very far away. Impossible almost.

As the singer in her ears begs to be remembered, Willow almost crumbles. She can’t bear the thought that he’s gone. She has to hold onto the mystery as something that they can solve, if they just work together. Everyone else might have given up, but she hasn’t. She won’t. Not ever.

She thinks the others feel the same. None of them knew Paddy like she did but they all seem so connected somehow – to him, to each other, to something. Willow has to admit she’s been enjoying their company and she’s impressed with their collective skills and determination but how long can it last? Won’t they get bored eventually?

Willow feels like the town is already moving away from the fate of Paddy Finnis. There are no more talks of searches, just the vigil at the church this Sunday and the murmurings she keeps hearing that kids do run off from time to time…

Even her parents seem keen to put it behind them, she thinks. It happens, she heard her father say earlier, it’s not that unusual. They’re still worried about her, still checking on her and sighing sadly whenever she mentions him, but they never bring Paddy up themselves, she’s noticed. It’s almost as if they want to avoid the conversation if they can.

It’s not right, she thinks angrily, none of this is right. She starts to leave, stomping through the wet leaves towards Walkers Road, intent on skirting around the edge of town until she can pick up High Street and head to school. She stops suddenly, just as she steps away from the cluster of oaks. There is one a little way out from the others. It’s smaller than the rest, less of a hulking beast, more of a shy adolescent. She can see power lines running through two of the biggest boughs. Her mouth drops open. They won’t even have to cut the whole tree down, which is something she knows Paddy would hate.

She can barely believe it and probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t exited the trees on that particular side. She raises her fist in triumph. It’s a win and she’ll take it.

She then remember that this takes them one step closer to breaking into Sergeant Mayfield’s house and her breath hitches in her chest as a shudder wrings through her. Correction – Jesse is one step closer.

No, she corrects herself again – I won’t let him do it alone.

4

Jaime scurries along High Street with the ‘Brief History Of Black Hare Valley’ tucked under one arm. She read it in one sitting and was not terribly impressed. In her opinion, it’s rather badly written, self-congratulatory and a bit boring. She has made notes, of course – anything is worth adding to the on-going investigation – but it was mostly a letdown. One thing that stuck out was the familiar names who helped to build the town. Spires, Mayfield, and Sumner, for example, are names that go back thousands of years. Jaime finds that both fascinating and disturbing in equal measures.

She plans to hand it back in and then head to school. She knows Miss Spires will be watching like a hawk again. Just then, she sees the library doors open and Miss Spires strides out, pulling on a coat. She doesn’t see Jaime, but heads up the High Street, perhaps towards the Post Office with a stack of letters under one arm.

Jaime does not hesitate. She dashes into the library, adds the book to the Returns pile on the front desk where a weary looking girl in her late teens nods and smiles, then heads back over to the local history and folklore section.

Jaime takes her time, checking every book that appears old with yellowed pages, or has an aged leather cover. She finds one called ‘Local Folklore’, and another called ‘The Witch of The Valley’ and tucks them both under her arm. Finally, she finds one about the traditions of the area. None of them are like the book Mr Finnis described but they’ll do for now. She knows Spires will see that she checked them out, but what can she do? It’s innocent enough and after all, Miss Spires was the one who pointed her towards the Local History section. She checks them out, stuffs them into her backpack and leaves the library in a hurry.

Jaime feels exhilarated as she dashes down the High Street, and crosses over to take the left onto School Lane. She’s thinking about the school library and how there might be a book like Paddy’s there, or how maybe she can find out what his lending history is… Her heart is pounding and she’s breathless as she hurries down to the school and through the open gates. She runs over to the bike sheds and bumps straight into Willow. For once, Willow appears animated and excited, happy even. She plants her hands on Jaime’s shoulders just as Jaime seizes hold of her forearms.

‘I found a tree!’

‘I got more books!’

‘What? Like Paddy’s?’

‘No, but close maybe, I don’t know. What tree? Will it work?’ They huddle together, shoulder to shoulder.

‘Yes, I think so,’ says Willow, catching her breath. ‘It’s close to Jesse’s place. A young oak with power lines going between two branches.’

Jaime stares, open-mouthed. ‘We might not need to cut one down? I was getting worried about that.’

‘No, we probably just need to cut through one branch, maybe two.’

Jaime nods, grinning. ‘Ralph can do it. We need to find them and plan it all out properly. Have you seen either of them?’

Willow shakes her head and walks to the end of the shed. ‘Oh shit,’ she says.

‘What?’ Jaime rushes to join her, peering over her shoulder just in time to see a mud-splattered Jesse Archer getting out of a police car in the staff car park.

‘Oh God, what the hell?’ hisses Jaime

‘What’s he done now? He’s covered in mud!’

‘Why’s he with Mayfield? Oh! Black Hare Cottage! D’you think he did it?’

‘I don’t know.’ Willow shakes her head. ‘They’ve gone inside. We’ll have to find him later and arrange somewhere to talk. Any ideas?’

‘The tree?’

‘Yes! If you see Ralph or Jesse, tell them it’s the cluster of oaks closest to the end of Taylor Drive. We’ll meet there after dark, okay? Go over the plan and get it tight.’

They nod at each other, give each other a sudden, brief hug and then quickly go their separate ways.

5

‘It’s nice of you to vouch for him, Sergeant Mayfield.’ Mr Bishop shoots a hard look at a sullen-faced Jesse before arranging a pleasant smile for the sergeant. ‘And to give him a lift in as well. You’re too good to us, really. Far too good.’

Sergeant Mayfield keeps his narrowed blue eyes on Jesse as if expecting to have to race after him at any second, but he returns the easy smile to Mr Bishop.

‘Just doing my job, Mr Bishop. Like yourself, I happen to care deeply about this town and everyone in it.’

‘Indeed.’ Mr Bishop stands behind his desk and plants his hands down on it. ‘Now, I suppose the real question is what do we do with you, Jesse Archer?’

Jesse keeps his eyes on the floor. He can’t bear to look at either of these men. They have both made his life a misery for as long as he can remember. They both make his skin crawl. They both feature in his nightmares. He feels their intense, questioning glares and responds with a half-hearted shrug.

Sergeant Mayfield clears his throat. ‘Well, it’s not all the boy’s fault, of course. There is a lot of neglect at home.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Mr Bishop bows his head gravely but there is a twinkle in his eye. ‘I had caught wind of that. Perhaps you’d like to talk through any difficulties you’re having with Mr Hewlett, Jesse? That is what he’s here for.’

Jesse stares longingly at the door and shakes his head. ‘No thanks. I’m not having difficulties.’

‘Well, I’d have to disagree,’ says Mayfield with authority. He looks to Bishop. ‘His father is in one of my cells again and the general consensus is someone really ought to step in and provide this boy with some guidance.’

‘Yes,’ agrees Bishop, his head bobbing as he stares at Jesse. His voice has taken on a dreamy tone. ‘Someone should. So he doesn’t get tempted into any more trouble.’

‘We’d like to see a future for him, wouldn’t we, Mr Bishop?’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, we really would like to turn him around.’

Jesse knows he cannot stand this a second longer. The room feels too hot and too small, like the walls are closing in. He feels something intense rising in the air around him. He can’t look at either man, yet he feels terribly and horribly sure that they both want to eat him alive. In his mind’s eye he pictures their jaws yawning open, revealing pointed teeth and stringy drool as they start to laugh.

He leans over his knees and groans in pain. ‘I think I’m gonna be sick!’

6

Ralph is almost knocked off his feet when the door to the boys’ toilets is shoved open with great urgency. He staggers backwards, bumping into the row of sinks as the desperate boy charges in. When he sees who it is, Ralph steps forward then instinctively stands in front of the door as it swings shut again.

‘Jesse!’ he hisses.

Jesse spins around, then leans over, clutching his knees. ‘Shit, Ralph!’ He shakes his hair from his eyes and despite his obvious fear, he grins. ‘I think Bishop and Mayfield wanted to eat me!’

Horrified, Ralph stares at him, his back pressed into the door. ‘What?’

Jesse laughs. He straightens up, still catching his breath as he runs both hands through his hair until it stands up in spikes. ‘Jesus fucking Christ…’

Ralph looks him up and down. ‘What the hell happened to you?’

Jesse’s grin drops away. He goes to each cubicle in turn, kicking the doors open until he is satisfied that they are alone. Then he steps closer to Ralph and lowers his voice.

‘I did the job for Mayfield and fell over. Then he picked me up and brought me here, right to Mr fucking Bishop! Can you believe that shit?’

Ralph stares, eyes wide. ‘What did they say?’

Jesse starts to pace, one hand in his hair again. ‘That they wanted to help me, straighten me out… Fuck, I don’t want them to help me. I don’t want anyone in this town to help me. I just want to find Paddy and then…’

‘Then what?’

Jesse frowns, his eyes darkening. ‘Then just go… get the hell out and never come back. That’s what I want to do.’

Ralph nods slowly. ‘It’s okay.’ He doesn’t know what else to say. Can’t think of the right words. Can’t imagine at all what words Jesse would want to hear right now. He fumbles desperately for something, anything, and then finally, stumbles on just saying out loud what he has been thinking this entire time, what he has been unable to stop thinking, what keeps him awake at night. ‘I think there’s something wrong with this town.’

Jesse stops pacing and watches him, waiting for more.

‘I don’t know what,’ Ralph goes on. ‘I can’t explain it. But I feel it. I think… It’s not just Paddy… It’s bigger than that but him going missing is part of it, and that book he had. It has to be important.’

Ralph steps forward, closing the gap between he and Jesse until they are almost chest to chest. He feels the urge to scan the room carefully, checking for cameras, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Jesse’s face.

‘I think Paddy discovered something,’ Ralph whispers. ‘I think maybe he found something important in that book and they, whoever they are, they found out and they took him because he knew something. I know it sounds crazy, Jesse, but I can’t stop thinking it.’

Jesse stares at him for a long moment, his arms at his sides, his fists balled. Then he passes Ralph and reaches for the door handle.

‘We’ve got to get that book back,’ he says grimly, lips pressed together. ‘We have to do whatever it takes. I think you’re right, Ralph.’

7

They make their way separately to the meeting place and arrive one by one to stand, solemn and heavy, under the boughs of the oaks. The ground under their feet is flat and boggy; the floor a mush of wet leaves and mud. Above them, the oak leaves are a deep dark green, almost startling in their vibrancy.

All around them is the smell of both rebirth and decay. Through the trees they can see the lights of the town, flicking on as dark descends. The flats on Taylor Drive and the more upmarket detached homes on Lupin Lane. The four of them feel undeniably shut out.

Willow speaks first, her cloak clutched to her chest with thin pale fingers, her hood pulled up over her loose black hair and her headphones visible around her neck.

‘I’ll show you the tree in a minute,’ she begins. ‘But first, we have to decide who does what and at what times exactly.’

‘We need a distraction in town first,’ Jesse speaks up. ‘I’ll ask my brothers to start a fight in the pub.’

Jaime nods. ‘Mayfield is in almost every night with Hewlett and Bishop and there’s a band playing tomorrow night.’

‘What time?’

‘They’re booked to start playing at 8pm and Mayfield is usually in just before that.’ Jaime exhales, eyes darting away for a moment. ‘Usually, anyway. I can keep an eye on them. If Ralph is arriving at mine, he can leave then and get to the tree. Your brothers only need to fight if it looks like Mayfield is about to leave early, or if he doesn’t show up.’

‘You better hide the chainsaw out here beforehand,’ Willow tells Ralph, ‘otherwise you’ll look suspicious walking over to Jaime’s with it.’

‘Okay. No problem. I’ll do it in the morning.’

They all nod and look back at Willow. ‘Ralph leaves the pub as soon as Mayfield arrives. I’ll be waiting in the café. Walk past and give me a wave, okay Ralph?’

‘Okay,’ he nods. ‘Then carry on to the tree?’

‘Yes.’ She turns to Jesse. ‘You and me meet in the alley behind the chemist. We go around to the back of the station house and break in once the power has gone out.’

‘What do the rest of us do then?’ Ralph asks, nervously.

‘Just head home and act innocent,’ shrugs Jesse.

Jaime turns to Willow. ‘If you get the book and get out without being seen or anything, what then? Where do we take it?’

‘Good questions,’ says Ralph. ‘They’ll know. Mayfield will know it’s gone and they’ll be looking for it.’

‘The committee, you mean?’ frowns Jaime. ‘We really do think they’re all involved?’

‘Well, not your mum, obviously,’ smiles Ralph. He looks at Jesse for support.

‘We better assume they are, for now,’ agrees Jesse. ‘Maybe only because that bastard Mayfield has something on them or maybe because they’re just like him.’

‘Okay.’ Willow brings them back on track. ‘So, where do we take it? Where can we hide it?’

‘Are there any cameras at mine?’ Ralph asks Jesse with a grimace.

He shakes his head. ‘No, but your mum works for the mayor.’

‘What about mine?’ asks Willow.

Jesse appears to think it over. ‘I’ve never put one there but he might have, I don’t know.’

‘The treehouse?’ says Jaime, eyebrows raised in hope.

‘Won’t he look there first?’ Ralph asks.

Jesse looks unsettled. ‘If the book is as important as we think it is, he’ll tear the whole town apart to find it.’

‘Your flat?’ suggests Willow.

He snorts. ‘No chance.’

They stare at each other in frustration. For a moment, no one speaks. They are all frowning, trying and failing to think of a safe place to stash the book.

‘Maybe we don’t need to keep it,’ Jaime says slowly, as if feeling her way for the answer as she speaks. ‘Maybe we just need to copy it. A bit like with that camera, Jesse. We don’t need to keep the book, we just need to see what’s in it.’

Willow’s eyes fly open and she seizes Jaime’s shoulders. ‘You are an utter genius!’

Jaime blushes. ‘Thanks!’

Willow turns to Jesse. ‘Where can we photocopy all the pages as fast as possible?’

He already knows the answer. ‘Hairy Dave can do that.’

Now they all fall quiet again; locked in a hushed silence as their thrashed out plans hang in the air around them. They look at each other curiously. It feels certain now. They really are going to break into a policeman’s house and try to steal back a mysterious book that may or may not help them find Paddy…

Jesse steps back, hands deep in pockets. ‘I’ll speak to Dave and see if I can do another trade with him.’ He looks over his shoulder. ‘We need to be realistic though. This could go horribly wrong.’ His eyes dart to Ralph’s. ‘Ralph has a bad feeling about this town and so do I. I have for a long time.’

Willow knows what he means. ‘I liked it okay when Paddy was here,’ she says in a low voice. ‘But now I think that was just because of him and all the fun we had growing up together.’

‘My step-dad is in love with this place, he constantly says what a great place this is to grow up,’ says Jaime.

‘It is,’ Jesse grins at her, ‘if you don’t break the rules.’

‘I always liked it too,’ admits Ralph. ‘It felt safe because everywhere you go, someone knows you. Sure, there are idiots and bullies and grumpy adults, but that’s no different to anywhere else. It is a beautiful place though. It is. I just started to feel different when I found the footprint.’

‘Do you think its related?’ wonders Jaime.

Ralph nods instantly, but reluctantly. ‘Yeah, I do. I know it sounds crazy but I do. When Jesse said he felt something chasing him, and that night at the ruins, I swear I felt something too. I don’t know what.’

‘You think some sort of beast could be out there?’ Jaime looks nervously over her shoulder before huddling closer to the others. ‘And maybe Paddy found out about it?’

‘Maybe.’ Ralph shrugs unhappily.

‘And there was a weird hare this morning,’ Jesse exclaims suddenly, yanking his hands out of his pockets and folding his arms.

Jaime grabs his arm, gasping. ‘A hare? What hare?’

‘A white one,’ he replies, frowning as her eyes grow wider. ‘When I was in the cottage putting in Mayfield’s camera, it appeared behind me. Right in the kitchen! I’ve never seen a white hare before in my life. I didn’t know they even existed, but there it was, just staring at me! No fear whatsoever. I mean, if anything it seemed pissed off.’

‘Oh my god,’ whispers Willow.

Jaime squeezes Jesse’s arm, dragging his attention back to her. ‘I saw a white one too! After the ruins, after Ralph said goodbye. I looked up and it was on the corner of the High Street just looking at me.’

Jesse’s jaw drops. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yes! I ran towards it and it ran down the High Street and I saw it disappear into those woods near the church. It was… I don’t know…. Sort of magical…’

Jesse is watching her carefully. ‘Did you feel afraid?’

She thinks back then shakes her head. ‘No. I don’t think so. Did you?’

He nods. ‘Yeah. The way it looked at me. And I was in the old woman’s house…’

They all look at each other, shaking their heads, blinking, expressions dazed, then solemn again as the darkness thickens around them.

‘We just have to get that book,’ Willow sighs after a while. She doesn’t even want to imagine what they’ll do if it’s not in Mayfield’s house.

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 Twelve “The Plan”