Black Hare Valley: Chapter Eight “Paddy Finnis”

© 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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Paddy Finnis – image is mine

1

Jesse blunders blearily into the bathroom the next morning, grabs his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth. He knows there is no point checking the kitchen for food because there is rarely any. His growling stomach will have to wait until lunch when his free school meal ticket will buy him a hot meal and a drink.

He is shaking with fear and barely restrained panic and he didn’t sleep a wink last night. It all weighs him down: the camera, Mayfield, his father. How many more days does he have? How much longer can Mayfield keep his father locked up? He knows what will happen next. A visit from social services with Mr Hewlett sighing and biting his lip while trying to reassure Jesse that they are all here to help him…

He brushes his teeth vigorously, thinking about the bedroom full of stolen goods and the kitchen full of unwashed crockery and overflowing rubbish.

He spits, turns around to grab a towel and screams.

There are three bodies hanging over the bathtub. Blood drips from their mutilated carcasses, creating a tacky pool of ruby red in the bath. Jesse staggers against the washbasin and hears his brothers laughing at him.

Three sets of glazed dead eyes stare. The two pheasants hang by their broken necks, while the hare dangles from its long, muscular back legs.

Wyatt puts his head around the door. ‘What’re you screeching about, you bloody girl? That’s dinner, that is.’

Jesse has to get out of there. He pushes past his brother, grabs his backpack with the DVD’s and camera in and runs out of the flat. Outside, he pauses to catch his breath but he only gets a moment before he is quickly accosted by three children. They come marching right up to him, backpacks on, hands gripping the straps like they really mean business.

Shit. Ralph, Willow and the new girl. Jesse brushes his hair from his eyes and starts walking. They fall into step with him.

‘We need to talk to you,’ Willow says, her eyes fixed on him.

‘Any news on Paddy?’ he asks back.

She shakes her head. ‘I phoned his dad just now. Nothing, but they’re starting a huge search at 12pm. If he went off anywhere on his own, they’ll find proof.’

He nods. ‘Good.’

Jaime is on his other side. ‘We need to know what Sergeant Mayfield gave you, Jesse.’

He looks at her sharply. ‘What’re you talking about?’

‘Don’t lie to us,’ Willow warns him. ‘Jaime saw through her camera lens and the photos she took are being developed as we speak so if you don’t tell us, we’ll soon know anyway. He gave you something before you got out of his car outside the bookshop. Tell us what it was.’

Jesse stops walking. A police car is rolling slowly towards them.

His heart seems to freeze inside his chest as he makes out the white-haired hulk of a man behind the wheel.

Shit…’

‘Mayfield,’ states Ralph.

They all look at Jesse. He slips his backpack from his shoulders and shoves it at Jaime.

‘Give that back to me at school and I’ll tell you everything. Meet me at break behind the bike shed.’ He walks away quickly before any of them can respond.

Head low, eyes down, his breath snagged in his throat like a dagger, Jesse forces his heavy legs to walk over to the police car. Sergeant Mayfield rolls down the window.

‘In you get, Archer.’

Jesse slouches around to the other side and gets in.

‘Let me give you a lift to school,’ Mayfield smirks at him, ‘so we can finish our conversation.’

‘I haven’t had a chance yet.’

‘Course not. You wouldn’t be wandering around at night up to no good, would you, Archer?’

Jesse fastens his seatbelt. ‘Well, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance. Police are crawling all over the shop. What d’you expect me to do?’

Mayfield drives with one elbow hanging out of the window and his other palm spread casually over the centre of the steering wheel.

‘Should’ve thought about that before you stuck it in the treehouse and gave me the middle finger, boy.’ Mayfield shoots him a filthy look. ‘Come up with an excuse. Say you left something in Paddy’s bedroom or something. Be inventive and get it done or your old man spends another night in my cell and time for you is-a-ticking.’

To drum home his point, Mayfield taps the face of his watch. Jesse feels like he can’t breathe. His hands clasp hold of his knees and he licks his lips like a frightened dog.

‘I’ll do it,’ he mutters.

Mayfield nods. Then he leans over and slaps Jesse’s leg, hard. ‘Course you will. Now, while we’re here, I’m supposed to question you about Paddy Finnis. I’ve been told you were bullying him. That right?’

Jesse shakes his head. ‘No, that’s not true. We were…’ He stops, looks out of the window and sees they have driven past School Lane and are heading down High Street. He hopes like hell that those kids look after his bag.

Mayfield takes a left onto Alfred Lane, then turns right onto Black Hare Road. He’s doing a loop; killing time until he gets the information he needs.

‘What?’ he barks at Jesse. ‘Friends? Bullshit. Don’t make me laugh. You were bullying him, weren’t you?’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘Well, that’s what everyone thinks,’ sighs Mayfield. ‘Your reputation goes before you, son. You only have yourself to blame. Anyway, what I need to know is where you went after you left his treehouse?’

‘Home.’

‘Straight home?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Anyone verify that?’

‘My brothers were in.’

‘All right then, I’ll check with them and clear that up. You didn’t see or hear from Paddy Finnis again after you left his place?’

Jesse shakes his head. Mayfield parks up on Black Hare Road, opposite the mouth of School Lane.

‘And you claim you’ve not been bullying or harassing him lately?’

‘No way. Can I go?’

Mayfield unlocks the door. ‘You can go. Get that camera in place by the end of today or you know what happens.’

Jesse climbs out as fast as he can, shuts the door and starts putting distance between himself and Mayfield.

2

During morning assembly, Mr Bishop tells the school that if they have any information on the whereabouts of Paddy Finnis, they are to come to the office and speak to himself or Mr Hewlett. He also mentions that if anyone is worried or concerned, they can drop into the church to see Vicar Roberts at any time. He tells them that at 12pm, a thorough search of the town will be conducted, starting at the bookshop before working their way up either side of the valley and beyond. He’s pleased to say that the weather is supposed to remain sunny and warm.

Willow spots Jesse Archer at the side of the hall, sat cross-legged with arms folded. She stares at him until he feels it and looks her way. She mouths, ‘break-time’ and he nods then mouths back, ‘bike-shed’.

In English, she plonks herself next to Jaime. ‘Where’d you put his bag?’

Jaime leans closer. ‘In my locker. Why do you think the policeman picked him up again?’

‘No idea, but we’ll find out soon. That boy is going to tell us everything he knows or I’ll drag it out of him myself.’

English passes at a snail’s pace. Maths goes even slower. Ralph is in the year below and Willow can only imagine how torturous the waiting is for him. He doesn’t seem like the most patient of kids.

Finally, breaktime rolls around and Willow and Jaime clatter breathlessly out of the class to fetch Jesse’s bag from Jaime’s locker. They collect Ralph on the way and the three of them leave the school building and head for the playground. The bike sheds are close to the main gates and they can already see Jesse Archer skulking up and down behind them, hands in pockets and shoulders bunched.

He brightens when they arrive and holds his hand out to Jaime. ‘Gimme it.’

The three of them gather around him but Willow intervenes, snatching the bag before it can pass into Jesse’s hands. ‘Wait. We talk first. What did Mayfield give you?’

‘I’ll show you if you let me,’ Jesse mutters, tugging the bag from her grip and unzipping it. He pulls out a small black device and holds it in his palm.

‘What the hell is that?’ Ralph whispers, eyes wide.

‘A camera!’ breathes Jaime, her eyes lighting up. ‘I’ve never seen one so small or slim!’ She takes it carefully and turns it over in her hands. ‘It’s got Velcro on it and a little clip. It’s so flat! I bet you can hide this anywhere!’ She looks at Jesse, wide-eyed. ‘Is it digital? I don’t know anyone who has a digital yet.’

‘No idea.’

She frowns down at it, inspecting it closely. ‘But it records? Like a security camera? I’ve heard these things can hold weeks or even months of footage!’

Jesse straightens up, nodding and shrugging at her. He’s still holding on to his unzipped bag.

‘What the hell did Mayfield give you this for?’ Willow demands, her eyes boring into his. He bites his lower lip, looks away and swallows thickly. She looks back down at the camera. ‘Were you supposed to hide this at Paddy’s?’

He meets her eyes and she knows in that second that she is right. For whatever reason, Sergeant Mayfield has blackmailed Jesse Archer to plant some sort of security camera in Paddy’s home…

Ralph and Jaime are silent and watchful, each of them sensing how big this is. Jesse nods at them all, hanging his head and for the first time ever, Willow feels genuinely sorry for him as the pieces jostle together inside her head.

‘He caught you in the school. You were telling the truth about that.’ Another nod. His tortured eyes burn into hers. His lips are thin, pressed tightly together. ‘He let you go but only if you planted this camera?’ Another nod. Her next question comes out as a whisper. ‘Where you were supposed to put it?’

Ralph throws up his hands. ‘And why?’

Jesse swallows again. He stuffs his hands back into his pockets and kicks at the ground. ‘The bookshop. Anywhere, but discreet. But I put it in the treehouse to piss him off…’

A lightbulb goes off in Willow’s head. ‘I knew you kept staring at the roof!’

He bites his lip again, head down. There is silence as they all stare at each other, at the tiny camera, then at Jesse.

‘How did you get this back then?’ Jaime asks finally.

‘Mayfield. I’ve still got to put it in the bookshop.’ He sniffs and takes it gently from Jaime. ‘I don’t have a choice, okay? He never gives me a choice.’

‘Because he caught you in the school?’

Jesse sighs. ‘Yeah, but not just that. Loads of stuff. It’s just a twisted game to him. And my dad, I think they go way back, so it’s something to do with that too.’ He shakes his hair out of his eyes. ‘It’s a long story, I guess.’

‘This is crazy!’ Ralph exclaims, throwing up his hands again. ‘I mean, I had no idea!’

‘Sergeant Mayfield spies on people.’ Willow looks at Jesse and he doesn’t look away. Again, she knows she is right. She shudders. Somehow the world suddenly feels very different. Colder. Out of reach. Dismissive. Even the tarmac under her feet and the blossom skittering across it feel wrong. It all feels like a dangerous lie.

‘Jesus Christ,’ says Ralph, in a low voice.

Then Willow holds up a finger. ‘Hang on a minute. So, Mayfield was watching us in the treehouse? He heard and saw everything while we were in there?’

‘That’s so creepy…’ murmurs Ralph. He looks up suddenly. ‘Hey, we didn’t like, bitch about him or anything, did we?’

Jesse snorts, as if that’s important. He puts the camera back in his bag and holds up the DVDs that Billy gave him.

‘I can find out what’s on this camera, like if anything happened with Paddy after we all left, before I put it back in the bookshop for Mayfield.’

‘How?’ asks Willow.

‘My brother told me to give these dirty films to Hairy Dave in the hardware shop. He’ll hook the camera up to his computer so I can see what was recorded.’

‘When?’ Willow demands, her tone sharp and excited. Jesse drops the DVDs into his bag and zips it up.

‘I’ll go now. Won’t take long.’

Willow feels panicked. She looks at the others and sees the same unease on their faces.

‘You shouldn’t go alone.’

Jesse frowns. ‘Why not?’

‘Because we all need to see what’s on it.’

He shrugs. ‘Come if you want but you might get in trouble.’

Willow turns to the others. ‘I’ll go with him. You two stay here. If anyone asks, say I was upset about Paddy and had to go home.’

They nod and stand back obediently as Jesse shoulders his bag.

‘You know a way out?’ Willow asks him.

‘Course I do.’

3

Jesse takes Willow to the hole in the wire. He holds it open so she doesn’t scratch herself and glances over his shoulder one more time to make sure no one is watching. Satisfied, he squeezes through after Willow and they hurry down School Lane side by side.

Black Hare Road looks quiet but there are a lot of cars parked up outside the bookshop. An hour until the search starts. Jesse figures that will be his best chance of getting the camera where Mayfield wants it to be.

They cross over, both of them staring around constantly in case they see someone they know. Jesse nods to the alley between the bookshop and home improvement shop and Willow follows without a word.

Around the back, they come to a six foot chain-link fence surrounding a small yard. Jesse pushes open the gate and approaches the door with Willow just behind him. Hairy Dave is leaning in the small hallway at the back of the shop, smoking a cigarette. He looks exactly as his nickname suggests; a hulking brute of a man in his early to mid-twenties, with shoulder length curly black hair and a beard to match.

‘Billy sent me,’ Jesse says quickly when the large man’s small eyes fix on him. ‘Said you could help me out.’

‘Yeah, yeah, he called me. It’s not a problem. What have you got for me?’ Dave throws his butt down and pushes the door open to allow them inside.

Jesse hurriedly unzips his bag and pulls out the DVDs. Dave takes them, his eyes lighting up his vast pimply face.

‘I hope these are fresh!’

‘Think so,’ Jesse replies, feeling vaguely sick.

‘Nice one. That’ll do nicely then. You can use my office. This way.’

Jesse glances back at Willow, who merely shrugs in reply. He sighs and follows Dave into a small office to the left of the hallway. It contains numerous shabby filing cabinets, a huge, cluttered desk and a lot of technical equipment. He clears a space on the desk and turns on the console of a large computer.

Jesse passes the camera over and Dave examines it. ‘I think I’ve got something that will fit. Wait here.’ He leaves the office and they listen to his heavy tread going into the shop.

Willow hugs herself and looks around uneasily. ‘What was on the DVDs?’

‘You don’t want to know, believe me.’

Dave plods back in with a small cardboard box in his arms. It’s spilling over with wires and cables of various sizes. He’s wheezing slightly as he sets it on the desk and starts rummaging through it, until he plucks out a thin black cable. Willow and Jesse look on, breath held as he fixes one end into the camera and the other into the side of the computer’s keyboard.

A small box appears on screen and Dave taps in some instructions. ‘Where’d you get this?’ he asks, leaning close to the screen. ‘It’s pretty high-tech. Wireless, you know?’

‘No,’ Willow responds quickly. ‘We don’t know. What do you mean, wireless?’

‘Well, it’s not your regular closed circuit stuff, is what I mean,’ Dave replies, tapping at the keyboard. ‘It doesn’t need a tape in it, because it’s got its own hard drive to hold whatever footage it records. It’s what you call a DVR. A digital video recorder.’

‘The sort of thing the police might use?’ Willow questions, shooting a look at Jesse. ‘Or the government?’

Hairy Dave whistles through his teeth and gives a little shake of his hairy head. ‘Yeah, I’d say so. Pricey anyway, out of our league, you know? Worth a bob or two. Did you steal it, Jess?’ Dave glances over his shoulder with a toothy grin.

‘Found it,’ Jesse mumbles. ‘Can we see what’s on it, or what?’

‘Sure. Here you go.’

Hairy Dave clicks a small box inside a bigger box and then suddenly they all hear voices. Paddy and Jesse’s. Paddy saying, ‘What’re you doing?’ Jesse saying, ‘Nothing.’

Dave backs out of the room, uninterested in anything other than the dirty tapes Jesse has passed on. He holds them in both hands. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Tell Billy I said thanks and close the door on the way out, okay?’

‘Okay thanks, Dave.’

Jesse pulls up a chair and hunches over the keyboard. Willow stands behind, her hands gripping the back of the chair.

‘There’s Jaime now,’ Jesse comments. Then, a few minutes later, ‘And now you.’

‘Bit weird if you think about it,’ she says.

He looks up at her. ‘What?’

‘How we all ended up there together,’ she replies, her gaze fixed on the screen. ‘It’s normally just me and Paddy, I mean. We’re not exactly the sociable types.’

Jesse looks at her carefully. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean.’ He turns back to the screen. ‘Now there’s Ralph.’

‘So, you really weren’t planning to bully Paddy?’ Willow asks.

His shoulders sag with a long sigh. ‘No, I wasn’t. But I get why you’d think that.’

‘Well, why did you keep going over there then? Paddy said you turned up about once a week.’

On screen Jesse is now leaving in a hurry. ‘Hard to explain,’ he tells her.

‘Try me.’

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t understand it himself. Paddy was a mystery to him, that’s as close as he can get to figuring it out, a mystery he wanted to unravel. A curiosity he could not keep away from.

He leans forward, watching intently as one by one Jaime, Ralph and Willow all leave the treehouse and go home. Willow watches from behind and they see Paddy still in the treehouse, alone now, finishing off the hot chocolate. Then he leans out, as if checking the coast is clear. He sits back and crawls over to an old tin box in the corner. It’s covered in old blankets and looks like it’s mostly used as a seat or a table. Paddy pushes the blankets off and flips open the stiff metal lid. They watch him reach inside.

‘What’s he looking for?’ asks Jesse. ‘What’s he keep in there?’

‘I don’t know. I totally forgot that old thing was there. It used to have board games in it, shit like that but mostly we’d use it as a table for stuff.’

Paddy leans in, moving things about with his hands. Then he sits back on his heels and spreads a heavy cloth out on his lap. His back is to the camera and they can’t make out what he is looking at as he unwraps the cloth, but they can tell how transfixed he is.

‘What the hell is that?’ asks Jesse.

They stare a moment longer, catching movements that suggest the turning of pages. ‘A book?’ they both ask at the same time.

Willow shakes her head, mystified. ‘There were never books in there. Paddy is super fussy about books. He won’t let you turn the corners of the pages or anything let alone leave them in a tin box in the treehouse. I have no idea what that is. He didn’t tell me.’

‘He’s turning the pages very gently, notice that?’

Willow nods. ‘Yeah.’

‘He was obviously keeping whatever it is to himself…’

Willow nods again. Suddenly, Paddy looks up, as if hearing something. He responds quickly, covering the book back up and lowering it carefully back into the metal box. Willow and Jesse watch as he arranges the blankets back on top of it. He then scuttles across the floor and is gone.

Jesse moves the mouse and hits fast forward. There is no more sign of Paddy in the treehouse but the next activity recorded is the following day. Fully expecting Sergeant Mayfield’s broad frame to come into view, Jesse and Willow both recoil in shock and confusion when two boys appear instead.

Jesse blinks furiously, unable to understand what he is seeing. But it’s there in colour, there right before his eyes, on tape.

‘Steven and Dominic…’ he splutters.

Beside him, Willow’s mouth falls open. ‘What the hell…?’

Both boys examine the treehouse for a few moments, Dominic with a look of genuine envy on his face, then Steven spots the camera and reaches for it with his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Seconds later, the screen goes black.

Jesse shakes his head. ‘Why would he get them to get it back? I don’t understand.’

Willow watches as he unhooks the wire and stuffs the camera back into his bag. ‘I’m gonna assume he’s blackmailing them too.’ She catches his eye and raises her eyebrows. ‘Right?’

Frowning, Jesse scratches his chin. ‘God. I don’t know. Maybe.’ He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna go now. See if I can put it in the shop or the flat like he wants.’

Willow grabs his arm as he vacates the chair. ‘But why? I don’t understand. Why the hell does he want to spy on them? Or anyone?’

‘Power,’ Jesse tells her with a shrug that suggests it should be obvious. ‘He’s got something on everyone, believe me.’

‘You can’t just put it back, Jesse,’ she argues. ‘You have to warn Mr Finnis!’

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head and leaves the office. ‘I have to do it, Willow, or I’m in even deeper shit. Don’t worry, he won’t get anything and he’ll be getting me to do someone else next week.’

Willow catches up with him outside. He can tell she wants to ask a thousand questions and he can feel see the edge of disgust in her gaze as she wonders if he has ever planted a camera in her parent’s shop, or her home…

‘We’ve gotta go,’ he tells her urgently. ‘I’ll get the camera up and you go to the treehouse. We’ve got to see if that book is still there, right?’

Willow nods. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

4

They split up in the alleyway, Jesse going around to the front and Willow to the back. Her heart is pounding as she pulls open the rickety back gate and peers into Paddy’s narrow stretch of garden. She pauses there, catching her breath and for a moment, utterly overwhelmed by loss and sorrow. She can barely stand to be here on his territory, knowing he is not here as he should be. It feels so wrong. This is his home, his treehouse, his life. She squeezes her eyes shut for a few moments and wills him to just come back.

Just come back, Paddy, just bloody come back… how am I meant to write our story without you?

Willow opens her eyes and forces herself to move. She thinks about Jesse on the other side, figuring out the best way to put the camera back. She thinks, we know more than Mayfield wants us to. We have one up on him, just maybe. She begins to climb the rope ladder, calming herself down by counting off the facts, the things that they do know.

Sergeant Mayfield, a goddamn police officer, is blackmailing Jesse Archer and maybe others too. She’ll need more information from Jesse as soon as they are out of here. Mayfield is using hidden cameras to spy on people. What for? Why? For fun, or sleazy kicks, or something else?

Willow crawls across the floor and swipes the blanket from the top of the tin box.

Jesse wasn’t bullying Paddy and didn’t drive him away. She believes this now. She saw the video, saw how relaxed Paddy was with him.

Is Mayfield’s spying and blackmailing connected to Paddy’s disappearance? And is whatever Paddy had in this box anything to do with it? And another burning question…was Paddy, her best friend, keeping secrets from her?

She flings open the lid and rummages quickly inside, her heart beating so loud it is all she can hear. She pulls everything out but she already knows the truth even as she scatters the contents around her. A torch, a pack of playing cards, an old snakes and ladders game, Monopoly, two pencils, a half-eaten tube of Fruit Pastilles and a broken umbrella…

The book is gone.

Of course it is. Mayfield would have seen Paddy looking at it…

5

Jesse walks casually through the small crowd of people gathered outside the bookshop. They don’t pay him any attention as he weaves between their mugs of tea and wellington boots. He walks through into the darkened shop and sees Mr Finnis behind the till alone. He is perched stiffly on a stool, staring at nothing and holding a cup of tea. Jesse stops in front of him.

‘Mr Finnis?’

He blinks twice and slowly meets Jesse’s eyes. ‘Oh. Hello, Jesse. How can I help you?’

‘Uh, I think I left something in Paddy’s room. Would it be okay if I went and got it?’

Mr Finnis clears his throat. ‘Yes, yes, of course you can. Off you go.’

Jesse nods and moves on. He stops in the doorway. ‘Has there been any news?’

Mr Finnis looks away and shakes his head. ‘No.’

Jesse turns and walks down the narrow hall. He takes the stairs up to the flat. He knows the way to Paddy’s room on the upper floor but he won’t go there. He wants to get out of here as soon as possible.

He goes quickly into the lounge and hides the camera behind some books on a cluttered dusty shelf above the TV. It gives Mayfield a perfect view of the lounge. Jesse backs out quickly, his heart pounding in his ears.

Suddenly without warning, his eyes fill with tears. The flat, the bookshop, the treehouse, they all seem so desolate and tragic without Paddy in them. He had a presence, Jesse thinks helplessly, he was small and kind of frail looking, like a mad little scientist or a nerdy bookworm, but he had something. He commanded attention. He held your eye. He held Jesse’s attention for weeks and it was still never enough.

He blunders quickly from the room and thunders back down the stairs. He lets himself out the back way where he bumps straight into Willow.

‘It wasn’t there,’ she says, her face pale.

He grabs her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

She allows him to tug her quickly down the garden and over to the broken gate. ‘Did you do it?’

He nods regretfully. ‘Let’s get back to school.’

She pulls free. ‘Mayfield must have the book. He would have seen it too so he must have got Steven and Dominic to pick it up.’

They walk along in a tense and desperate silence. Jesse gulps and blinks rapidly to hold back the tears. He walks fast with his hands in his pockets and Willow seems to gather herself together. By the time they’ve reached the hole in the wire, she is breathing normally and smoothing back stray wisps of hair.

‘We’ve got to talk later,’ she tells Jesse when they emerge cautiously in the staff car park.

‘About what? We did it.’

‘About the book, Jesse. And Mayfield! About everything!’

He turns to go but Willow reaches out, snatching him back by his elbow. ‘Jesse, we have to get that book back. It’s a vital clue. Paddy didn’t tell me about it so it must be important.’

He just stares at her – a knowing look clouding his face. He gives her the smallest of nods and Willow breathes out in relief. He says the words so that she doesn’t have to, knowing too well that it is his cross to carry.

‘We have to break into Mayfield’s house.’

6

Willow passes the whisper around but it is Ralph who suggests the old maze near Black Woods as a meeting place. No cameras there, he shrugs when questioned with raised eyebrows. They agree to travel there separately after they’ve all gone home from school to ensure their parents don’t worry. Jesse rolls his eyes at the suggestion but he is hoping his father will be out by now. He’s not much of a man; he’s useless at providing and he’s a nasty, self-pitying drunk at the best of times, but he doesn’t terrify Jesse like Sergeant Mayfield does. As he heads home alone, he hopes and prays to find him there, spreadeagled on the grubby sofa with a vodka and coke on the go.

Close to home, Jesse discovers Steven and Dominic lurking in the shadows of the block. He’s been avoiding them lately but now seems as good a time as any to try and find out what they know. Steven leans against the wall, nudging Dominic and laughing at Jesse.

‘You too good for us now, eh?’ he calls out with a belly laugh. Dominic laughs too – he’s bent over double with it. ‘Hanging out with Witchy Willow now?’

Jesse ignores the question and stops in front of them. ‘Yeah, maybe I am,’ he replies. ‘So anyway, what’s Mayfield got on you too?’

Steven narrows his eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jesse stares at Steven and Steven stares back. Distrust and simmering resentment passes between them like electricity. Jesse draws in his breath and pulls his lower lip in with his top teeth. He desperately wants to ask Steven about the camera and the treehouse and the book, but if he does, will he be giving Steven, and by default, Mayfield, an advantage? He suddenly wishes he had kept his mouth shut.

‘Nothing,’ he says finally, looking Steven up and down in thinly veiled disgust. ‘Just thought I saw you with him.’

‘You thought wrong,’ Steven says firmly and Jesse gives him a nod, okay then. Now it’s Steven’s turn to drag his hostile gaze up and down Jesse. ‘Fuckinghell, eh, Jess? First that four-eyed Finnis freak and now you’re hitting on his girlfriend, Willow the Witch? You better watch out, Archer. Town will be thinking you offed Finnis to get to his girl!’

Jesse reacts before he can stop himself. There is just something so grating about Steven’s voice, something so antagonising about his stupid, smug face that he can’t ignore. Years of winding each other up and competing and for what? There’s no friendship and he’s surprised it took him so long to notice. There’s no loyalty. Not from any of them. For the first time, Jesse realises how truly alone he is.

And he can’t escape the fact that if Steven had been there that day, if he’d backed him up like he said he would, then maybe none of this would have happened. One of them would have been the lookout and they would have got out from the school without Mayfield spotting them.

He turns fast, grabs Steven by his blazer and punches him in the face. Steven doesn’t go down easily. He’s been gearing up for this for years too. He jerks back with the blow but thunders straight into Jesse’s mid-section, following up with a punch to his head. Jesse barely feels it. He throws his fists like bullets and forces Steven to the ground.

‘That’s enough!’ a familiar voice calls out.

They fall apart instantly, panting. Jesse closes his eyes briefly, on his hands and knees. He doesn’t want to look sideways and see Sergeant Mayfield, the monster, the man who haunts his dreams. He gets up slowly, throws a filthy look at Steven and hisses, ‘This isn’t over.’

Then he turns towards the voice like he knows he must, and sees Mayfield stood beside his police car, a placid and knowing look upon his weathered face.

‘Just a misunderstanding I assume?’ he addresses Jesse as he walks over.

Jesse nods. ‘Something like that.’ He looks past Mayfield to peer into the car. ‘Where’s my dad?’

Mayfield flashes a toothy grin and drops a heavy arm around Jesse’s shoulders. He steers Jesse away from the car and towards the block of flats he calls home. Dominic and Steven have already slouched away and out of sight.

‘I don’t know,’ Mayfield muses, rubbing his chin. ‘Didn’t he turn up? I let him go earlier like I said I would.’ He gestures towards the doors. ‘Mind if I come up and discuss something with you?’

Jesse shakes his head and they go into the building. The lift is broken as usual, and Mayfield gives a strained smile as they pass it and begin to head up the stairs,

‘I expect he headed straight back to The Old Fort. I’ll drop by later and check if you like. Surprised he didn’t rush home to see you though.’

Jesse swallows a snort of laughter. ‘No, you’re not.’

Mayfield stares at him for a beat. They open another door and walk down a narrow, badly-lit corridor until they arrive at the last flat, number 9. There are bags of rubbish outside the door next to a broken bike and a battered old chair. Jesse takes his key out and opens up.

‘Ugh. My god…’ Mayfield wrinkles his nose when they walk inside.

Jesse knows the flat smells damp – black mould permeates the walls, the ceiling, the air. The smell mixes with stale booze and musty vomit. Mayfield takes off his hat and tries very hard not to touch anything.

Jesse stands back and waits while he peers into each room. Somehow he knows there will be no search for stolen goods, not today. Mayfield physically recoils when he discovers the dead animals hanging over the bath.

‘These belong to Mayor Sumner.’

Jesse stands in the centre of the lounge and shrugs. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘No, of course not.’ Mayfield’s voice is soft and wondering, as he moves in front of Jesse and places one hand on the top of his baton. ‘I’d like to bring them in, those thieving little scrotes but Mayor Sumner asked me not to make a fuss. What do you think about that?’

‘I don’t know,’ replies Jesse, eyes down.

‘I think it’s generous,’ says Mayfield his tone even softer, even lower, his eyes fixed on Jesse until he can no longer fight it and has to look back. ‘I think it shows true community spirit and neighbourliness.’ Jesse just stares back, waiting. As their eyes meet, he feels frozen – caught in a spell of Mayfield’s making. It’s like his breath has been stolen from him and Mayfield is holding it ransom until he gets what he wants. Mayfield, as usual, holds the power in his hands and he could extinguish Jesse any time he wants, just like swatting a fly. Mayfield wants him to listen, and learn. ‘We do a lot of favours for your family, don’t we, Jesse?’

He nods helplessly. Oh how badly he wants to look away but he can’t. He just can’t.

‘A lot of looking the other way.’

He can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.

‘It’s been going on for years too. Ask your father if you can ever get any sense out of him. And that’s why you and I have our little arrangements.’ Mayfield digs into his back pocket and pulls out another camera. ‘I’ve got another job for you. An important one.’

Mayfield presses the camera into his chest and somehow Jesse breaks free, his eyes tearing away as oxygen fills his lungs and his chest stutters back to life. A trembling hand flutters towards the camera and takes it.

‘I thought we were square.’

To this, Mayfield laughs. It’s a thick, booming and obnoxious sound. An angry sound. Something dark flares in his blue eyes and he curls his hand around the baton, tugging it half-way free.

‘Square? We’ll never be square, Archer. Not while there’s fist-fights and poaching and violence and trying to burn down schools… You do this for me or you do community service for Vicar Roberts and Mr Hewlett. Indefinitely.’ He leans forward, his hot breath coating Jesse’s face.

Jesse blinks. ‘Who is it for?’

Mayfield leans back. ‘Black Hare Cottage.’

Jesse feels a surge of panic. ‘But she… she never goes out! How can I…?’

Mayfield places a hand on his shoulder. ‘She does go out. Of course she does. She’s nothing special. She has to eat and drink like the rest of us. You’ll have to be patient and watch for her routine. Pick the right moment, plus, she’s losing her eyesight. You’ll be fine.’

Jesse exhales as he slides the camera into his back pocket. ‘It might take me a while.’

‘Well, stay in touch.’ Mayfield smiles at him. ‘Oh and one more thing. I saw you with those kids again this morning. And you’ve obviously had a falling out with your usual scummy sidekicks.’ Jesse stares back at him, frowning. ‘Trying to make new ones, maybe?’ Mayfield tilts his head. ‘Like you were with the Finnis boy?’

Jesse shakes his head. ‘No, they’re not my friends. They think I did something to Paddy.’

‘I saw you all together, remember. In the treehouse.’

‘So, you saw how much they hate me then. We’re not friends.’

Mayfield’s smile is intense as he tightens his grip on Jesse’s shoulder, his thick fingers curling into sharp claws until Jesse gasps and their faces are forced together.

‘Word of warning Jesse Archer,’ Mayfield growls. ‘Don’t lie to me. Don’t ever lie to me. Don’t ever assume you’ll get anything past me because I promise you, you won’t. And you’ll severely regret it. Understand?’

Jesse blinks and nods that he does.

‘Good. Because I know everything, remember? I see everything. And if I find you no longer useful to me, well, what’s the point in me protecting you then?’ He lets go and claps his hands together. Jesse jumps. ‘There would be no point in you at all, Jesse Archer.’

He straightens up, smiles at him brightly while his blue eyes burn with hate, turns around and walks out. Jesse sinks to the floor, holds his head in his hands and tries to remember how to breathe.

7

‘Have you done your chores?’ Charlotte asks Ralph as he zips up his jacket and slings his backpack over his shoulders.

‘Yup,’ he tells her, sitting on the sofa to pull on his boots. ‘Room tidy, rubbish out, kitchen clean. Did I do good?’

With a wry grin, Charlotte steps into the kitchen to check. She has just got home from work and is desperate for a shower. She grins and ruffles his unruly hair.

‘Nice work, kiddo. Where are you off to exactly?’

He stands up and heads for the door. ‘Black Woods. Saw some interesting footprints there last week. Thought I’d have another look around.’

‘My own little David Attenborough.’ Charlotte tips his face up to hers and kisses his nose.

‘Aw, Mum.’

‘Oh, too big and cool for kisses now, is that it? Go on then, off you go. Be back before dark though.’ She catches his pack before he escapes and pulls him back. ‘They still haven’t found that boy, you know.’

Ralph pauses, his stomach sinking. ‘Didn’t the search turn up anything?’

She shakes her head sorrowfully. ‘No, nothing. Not a trace, not even a footprint. It’s so strange.’ She shakes herself and smiles. ‘So, don’t make your mother worry. Home before dark, you promise?’

‘I promise, Mum. I’ll only be about an hour anyway.’

‘Okay then.’

Ralph slips out and closes the door behind him. He glances at his bike chained up next to his mother’s. He’s tempted – it feels somehow faster and safer to be on wheels, but he knows he’ll end up pushing it more than riding it once he gets over the river.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Ralph plods past it and walks as quickly as he can out of the site. He’s keen to get to the woods. Keen to meet with his new friends. Keen to tell them about his own little mysteries.

8

With her bedroom door closed and locked, Jaime opens the drawer to her desk and pulls out the sheet of rolled up paper. She’s had to tape six sheets of A4 paper together to create a roll long enough to fit all the Post-It notes so far. Most of them have lost the stickiness so she’s carefully taped them all into place. She snaps an elastic band over the tube and pops it into her backpack along with her camera and a fresh roll of film.

The locked door makes her feel guilty. To hide things from her mother feels unnatural and heavy – like something has changed inside her. But her rational mind is able to out-talk her emotional one. Reporters have to be sneaky. They have to keep secrets. Sometimes they have to have whole lives that are secret… It’s not nice but she knows it has to be this way. She adores her mother but she’s joined the Neighbourhood Watch committee and Sergeant Mayfield is on it too.

Jaime hopes maybe in time she can ask her mother to spy for them, to reveal secrets even, but it’s too soon. Her mother is innocently trying to fit in and Jaime wants to leave her out of this as long as she can.

She zips up her jacket and shoulders her backpack, before leaving her room and clattering down the wooden staircase. She hears her mother call her from the bar so she goes through.

‘Are you off then, sweetie?’

Her mother and Mark are drinking tea on one side of the bar while Mayor Sumner, Vicar Roberts and Mr Hewlett sip glasses of red wine on the other.

‘An impromptu Watch meeting,’ Mayor Sumner laughs. ‘We realised we didn’t quite cover everything the other night. How are you, Jaime?’

‘Fine thank you, Mayor Sumner.’

Jaime feels her cheeks growing warmer with every passing second. She feels the weight of the fledgling investigation in her backpack and her knees go weak.

‘Good, good! Well, don’t let us keep you.’

‘Where is it you’re off to?’ her mother asks. Jaime almost says the library, but remembers in time that the librarian is also on the committee so might mention it to them if she doesn’t turn up.

‘Just more exploring,’ she shrugs, smiling sweetly as she backs up. ‘Still got lots to see!’

‘Oh, you bet,’ Mark agrees, winking at her. ‘Those hills and those woods, acres of wild land to explore. I’ll have to go over the map again with you. Point out some landmarks.’

‘Okay, thanks! Well, I better go. Have a good meeting!’

Jaime leaves through the kitchen, wondering if she ought to be alarmed at the gathering of committee members in her home. No, she shakes her head as she starts off, reminding herself of the directions Ralph gave her. As far as they know, it’s just Mayfield who is dodgy.

9

Willow leaves the shop wearing her favourite long black coat. The sleeves are so wide and the hood so large, it’s almost a cloak. She pauses on the pavement to hold her arms out to the side before dramatically wrapping the cloak around her body. She considers a twirl, sending the dark material spinning out around her as she often does in front of the mirror in her bedroom, but stops when she hears the giggling.

Willow glances to the right and sees Alexa and Bryony leaning against the wall of Milly’s Café. Steven Clarence and Dominic Robeson are with them; Steven sucking on a roll-up before chucking the still lit dog-end at Willow’s feet.

‘I didn’t know it was Halloween,’ he says, a cruel smile spreading up the sides of his thin angular face. He’s wearing an Alice In Chains t-shirt and sunglasses.

‘It’s always Halloween for Witchy Willow,’ snorts Bryony, squaring up to Willow with her hands in the back pockets of her tiny denim skirt.

Willow looks them all slowly up and down. Alexa is wearing white platform boots and a skimpy white dress with spaghetti straps. A yellow and blue checked flannel shirt swamps her tiny frame and Willow can only guess that Steven leant it to her to keep her warm. What on earth the queen bitches from school see in the two reprobates Jesse usually hangs around with, Willow can only guess. She supposes a mutual love of bullying must come pretty high on the list of common interests.

Willow is tempted to respond. A million juicy comebacks fill her mind and she has never backed down from them before; why would she? But something tells her not to encourage them. Something makes her wonder what they are doing there, and paranoia tells her they were waiting for her. What if she antagonises them and they follow her? That would be the last thing they need. So, she lowers her head and turns away, biting her lip as the torrent of giggles and hoots follow her.

Willow stomps down High Street in her chunky black boots, purple and white striped tights and short black denim skirt. She hears the insults in her head as she makes her way across town: Weird Willow; Willow The Witch; Witchy Willow. She smiles to herself. She agrees with her parents on many things and one of those is it is not a person’s duty to fit in or blend into the environment around them. It is their duty to be whoever the hell they want to be in the one short life they have.

So, she ignores the stares and eye rolls and sighs of genuine concern of those older than her, and she ignores the whispers and giggles and insults of those her own age. She floats through the valley like a storm cloud and as she passes Paddy’s shop, she feels her anger solidify. It becomes her. She is angry at Paddy for keeping secrets, angry at him for being gone and angry at the town for taking him. That’s how she feels; like the town has conspired against her – like everyone is in on it, laughing behind her back.

She walks up Station Road, past Sergeant Mayfield’s home and castle, and her face tightens into a scowl. She is still reeling, still unable to quite digest the implications of Jesse’s admissions. Her mind runs with it, trying to unravel it, then she gives up, hands thrown up in defeat. It doesn’t make any sense. She feels like the earth has shifted under her feet and reality is no longer something she can rely on.

Willow cuts behind the station and stomps her way over to Maze Lane. The narrow gravel track takes her over the river. It’s blue and sparkling today – like a giant middle finger beaming back at her. She exhales angrily as she strides over the bridge. The view from all sides is idyllic. The town behind her – rows of thatched and tiled roofs, red brick chimney stacks, and pockets of ancient trees filling the spaces between lives. To the left, the farmland stretches on for as long as she can see – up into the voluptuous hills of the valley; differing shades of green patchworking between hedgerows and fences; white fluffy sheep dotted across the landscape, a herd of cows close to the fence munching on grass.

Maze Lane jostles down through another hill and a cluster of cottages can be seen on Mayor Sumner’s land. Directly above, Willow sees the looming darkness of Black Wood. It has a different feel to it. There is a chill in the air as she approaches the crumbling graveyards. She pauses on Hill Lane, the breeze picking up and lifting her hair from the nape of her neck. She hears a noise behind and whips around, startled.

It’s Jaime, hand over mouth. ‘Whoops, sorry! Couldn’t resist. Too good a picture.’ She looks down at her camera then back at Willow. She spreads her hands out, as if smoothing out the view. ‘Those black trees, the white graves, and you stood there in a black cloak. That was awesome. I hope you don’t mind.’

Willow considers it then shakes her head. ‘No. You’re right. It’s a hell of a view.’

‘Tad creepy.’

‘Yeah. We like it here though, Paddy and me.’ Willow smiles briefly then looks away. ‘It’s not our favourite place but it’s one of them. It’s never busy up here. You can get some peace.’

‘I bet.’

They walk on together. ‘Some people think these woods are haunted.’

‘I can see why. Is this really an old graveyard?’

‘16th century, my dad says. There are newer ones at both the churches in town. But these are so old you can’t read any of the inscriptions anymore.’

Jaime is frowning as she steps gingerly between the broken headstones. The grass is wild and scrubby and peppered with rocks. She lifts her camera and starts snapping.

‘So, no one knows who these people were?’

‘Don’t think so,’ says Willow. ‘Not unless there are any records anywhere. I suppose there could be. Mayor Sumner would know.’

Jaime lowers the camera. ‘She’s at the pub right now with the vicar and Mr Hewlett. A meeting, apparently.’

Willow looks at her sharply. ‘No Sergeant Mayfield?’

Jaime shakes her head. ‘No. Not yet.’

Willow sighs and walks on until they come to the maze. They can see Ralph is there already. He emerges from the black trees waving both hands at them.

Jaime looks around. ‘No Jesse yet then.’

Willow doesn’t answer. She’s still not sure how she feels about Jesse Archer. He’s come through for them so far but there is so much they don’t know. About him, about Paddy, about Mayfield… She feels like Jesse is as big a part of the mystery as anything else. She also sees that maybe she has misjudged him. How long has Mayfield been blackmailing him like this? She grits her teeth as they close the gap between them and Ralph. She hopes they will get some answers when he turns up.

‘You see these?’ Ralph is turning slowly in a circle, pointing at the ground as he moves.

Willow folds her arms and nods at the large neat circle of mushrooms. ‘Cloud funnel,’ she tells him. ‘Why, you hungry?’

Jaime is at her side, instantly snapping pictures. ‘Are they edible?’

Ralph rubs at his belly with both hands. ‘Only if you don’t mind getting the shits!’

‘Why are they in a circle like that?’ Jaime takes a few more shots and then stands back and looks around her. ‘Are there more?’

‘Haven’t you ever seen a fairy ring before?’ Willow asks her.

‘No, what does that mean?’ Jaime lowers the camera and frowns at Willow.

Willow sighs. ‘Never mind. It’s just superstition and folklore anyway.’ She turns to Ralph who is wiping mucky hands off on his jeans. ‘Anything interesting in the woods?’

‘Nah, I was just having a look. Did I tell you about the weird footprint I found?’

Jaime nods while Willow shakes her head. Ralph uses both hands to demonstrate the size of the animal prints he tried to get a mould of.

‘They were huge! Like this! I swear! Next time I find one you can take a photo, Jaime. Someone snatched my mould. But I brought some of my collection to show you.’

‘Why would anyone take your mould?’ wonders Willow, smoothing her cloak out under her and sitting on one of the rugged maze mounds. Her eyes scan the land below and she can just make out a figure crossing the bridge as she had.

‘Don’t know,’ sniffs Ralph. ‘But I’m telling you, only wolves or bears or big cats have feet that size!’ He pulls a few tattered photos out of his back pocket. ‘I had to borrow my mum’s camera, and it’s not the best. It can’t zoom in like yours, Jaime. What do you think?’

Jaime takes the photos and scrutinises each one in turn. She bites her lip before passing them back to Ralph apologetically. ‘It’s hard to tell, Ralph. They’re not particularly clear.’

‘Look at this one,’ he insists, pushing the picture in front of her. ‘See that conker there? Can you see the conker?’

Jaime squints. ‘Ummm, maybe?’

‘That’s a conker I promise you, and look at the size of the print next to it. No way that’s a regular sized cat, right?’

Jaime smiles and shrugs politely. ‘Are there any reports of loose big cats in the area?’

‘Don’t think so.’ Ralph plonks himself down next to Willow.

Jaime turns in a circle, snapping photos of the maze. ‘Tell me about this. It’s like a mini hill fort!’

‘I suppose it is,’ says Willow. ‘But they call it a maze. The winds have worn it down over the years. People treading on it too.’

‘It’s so cool.’ Jaime takes more photos then zooms her lens in. ‘Oh, here comes Jesse.’ She snaps a photo then lowers the camera sheepishly.

Willow feels a thrum of excitement and fear and her mouth goes dry. Jaime sits beside her and unzips her bag.

‘I’ve got all the timeline on a roll out sheet. I’ll add anything we’ve missed while we’re here.’

There’s so much we don’t know, Willow thinks wearily, how would we know where to start?


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 Nine “Black Woods”

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”

The View From Here Is A Good One

Freewriting from prompt…

oak that watches over our house – image is mine

I only need to look up to see greenery, trees, shielding me. The view from here is my favourite oak, taller than the house and so grand it hurts. How many hundreds of years has it stood on this lane watching over this place? My place. Our place. The view from here is the sycamore and the poplar. I got worried when its leaves didn’t come back as fast as the others, but maybe poplars just take their time. The view from here is the bridge over the river, where the willows weep beside ash and elm and alder. The view from here reminds me how lucky I am, though none of this is truly mine, it is. It is. 

I only need to wander to the back windows to look out on something close to glory. Something close to perfect. Something that feeds my soul in a way that nothing else can. The view from here is a garden full of trees and shrubs and flowers, where chickens peck and the dogs bury bones, and the old tire swings from the fir tree, still going strong after fifteen years. Where the horses in the field snort and graze, where the deer trot furtively from the woods as the sunlight fades. The view from here is sunsets and early morning mist. The view from here is lapwings and buzzards and red kites and badgers and foxes. The view from here is safe, for now.

The view from here makes me dizzy, when the memories rush in, one here, one there, a little boy with socks on his hands pulling a funny face, being rolled down the hill in a tire, being buried in a hole, little baby jabbing at a mud hole with a stick, little girl firing arrows to be like Katniss, little girl and her little chicks cupped in her little hands, and bbqs and trampolining and drinking cider while the sun goes down on us all, and firepits and marshmallows and games of football and tennis and tag and when it was lockdown we made the garden our outdoor gym, and jumped from log to log, twirled and spun and laughed at our own rules, and threw eggs out of the window in a parachute that didn’t work and looked out of the windows at the still silent world.

And that was then. And this is now. And we are still here.

The view from here grounds me. Reminds me: who I am, who we are, what we did, who we loved, how we lived. The view from here changes with the seasons, and in the autumn the garden is covered in leaves, and in the winter the ground is crunchy with frost, and in the spring the green is creeping back to shield us, and in the summer the grass dries out and the sun never seems to go to bed…

The view from here is good.

The view from here is us.

Night Night Tinks

You were the best girl ever…

Tinks just before the end – image is mine

Of course, we knew it was coming. Of course we had seen her slow down. As she turned 14 in February, I celebrated the fact she was the oldest dog I’d ever had! My last two died at aged 10 due to heart failure, and aged 13 after a stroke. But at 14, she was still going, still clicking about on her increasingly weak and wobbly legs, still emitting her strange high-pitched woof every time she wanted something, still causing no trouble, still being the sweetest, gentlest girl ever…

In April I celebrated again. Fourteen years had passed since I agreed to squeeze in an extra foster dog, and had this tiny mucky little scrap of a thing handed over the garden gate to me. Already named Tinkerbelle, I stuck her in the sink for her first bath. She settled in like she owned the place; always calm, sweet, and optimistic, even as a tiny pup.

No one phoned up for her, there was no interest in this smooth coated brindle lurcher pup at all and then one day she managed to climb up onto the kitchen side to try and reach some food. She fell off and broke her back leg. This, of course, meant an extended foster stay with us, during which numerous other rescue dogs came and went to their new homes. On the day someone finally phoned up to ask about her, I knew I could not let her go. She was ours. She had been with us for too long and there was no way we could give her up now.

Tinks as a puppy with her broken leg in a cast – image is mine

Tinks was the perfect puppy. While still in a cast, she slept every night in a crate to keep her as still as possible and she never complained. Once her cast came off, she could start going for walks but was still happy to sleep downstairs every night. She rarely peed in the house, rarely nipped anyone as a small pup, and although not particularly interested in training or tricks, Tinkerbelle always had reliable recall and always greeted other dogs politely and sensibly. And as the months wore on, her smooth brindle coat grew long and fluffy!

Tinks – first walk without her cast on! Image is mine

We were so, so lucky.

As the years went by, Tinks only got easier. I have never had such an easy dog. She was vocal when she wanted to be, but only ever out of excitement. She never jumped up at anyone, never stole food, never destroyed anything. She was so happy-go-lucky, so laidback. I always said it was like she lived in her own little world, and she did. A sweet, gentle happy little Tinks world.

Tinks as a puppy – image is mine

At the start of 2020, before the pandemic, we said goodbye to Skipper, another lurcher. He was ten and had suffered with heart failure for the last year of his life. He was a great companion for Tinks – they truly loved eachother and when he was put to sleep at home, she was there too. As I leaned over him, sobbing, she came over, pushed her head up under my arm and forced me to look at her. It was as if she was trying to say, hey, I’m still here!

Not long after Skipper left us, we got Jesse, who is now 5. He gave Tinks a new lease of life, as did Ada when she came along almost three years ago.

me and Tinks – image is mine

It’s really been the last year or so that Tinks started to slow down. Her back legs in particular were getting shakier and weaker, and she had trouble going up and down stairs. She stopped coming out for so many walks and was mostly happy pottering around the garden.

We knew the end was coming and I wanted the end that Skipper had. He was always afraid of the vets and became stressed getting into cars, so we had the vets come out to us. That way he could slip away in the comfort of his own home.

The Sunday before last, Tinks was fine one moment and then I noticed she was panting heavily. It was 6pm and we were watching TV together. She then got up and staggered about on her bed, so I went over to her, as something did not seem right. As I reached her, her legs gave way under her and she collapsed mostly into my arms, but hit her head on the floor. As she went down, her mouth stretched open and she cried out in pain. I thought I was losing her there and then.

We got her comfortable and all gathered around her, crying. She couldn’t seem to move her legs so we gently moved them for her so she was lying on her side. About an hour later she had another similar episode. She got up, staggered about, fell onto my lap and cried out. This time it was worse and she cried and grunted several times and again, I was certain she was going.

She settled down again and I called the emergency vets as I did not want her to suffer. They couldn’t send anyone out at that time but could see her if we drove her in. That would have been difficult, as she was a big dog who couldn’t move by herself at this point. We discussed it but by 9pm she seemed okay again. She had some water and even a few treats. We decided to leave her for the night and see how things were in the morning.

I slept downstairs with her that night. She slept peacefully through and in the morning surprised us all by going outside for a wee! She didn’t want any food though. Meanwhile, I made the appointment for the vets to come out on the Wednesday, as it was clear we couldn’t let this go on much longer. It gave us a few more days with her and I was thankful for that, but also anxious in case she had another episode. I just didn’t want her to suffer at all.

Thankfully she made it to Wednesday. She did not eat any dog food, just the odd treat and a tiny bit of cake I shared with her. She drank water but was otherwise uninterested in food. She slept peacefully most of the time and we all tried to spend as much time with her as we could.

Wednesday arrived. My busiest work day, but to be honest, I was glad of the distraction. I ran a few Zoom clubs in the morning then the vets arrived at 12.30pm. It was all over very quickly and very peacefully. She was so tired, so weak, so ready to go. My teenage son was here and he was wonderful. We buried her in the garden next to Skipper on the other side of the cherry tree.

Mostly, I feel relief. Life was getting harder for her, and I really wanted to avoid a stressful or painful death. She deserved the best end and I think that’s what she got. No more suffering, no more pain, no more feeling tired or weak.

And now, we miss her.

We realise how special she was, how sweet she was, how easy she was. She never demanded anything of anyone, that’s the thing I keep coming back to. She was the least demanding dog I’ve ever had. The simplest. The gentlest. The easiest.

Fourteen years is a long time for a dog to be part of your life and your family. Though we have the younger two to keep us busy, there is a Tink shaped hole in everything now.

But what I keep coming back to is how lucky we were to have her. From an extra foster dog I didn’t know I was getting, to the broken leg meaning her foster stay was prolonged, to having her as part of our lives for so very long, I feel lucky.

Night night sweet Tinks.

Thank you for being the best girl ever.