This is something I have written about before because this does happen to me every few books, but I just couldn’t resist talking about it again!
As you know, my next release The Dark Finds You (out on 9th January) can be read as a standalone but also ties up various storylines from some of my other books in a connected universe. Connecting some of my books up with characters and locations is something I really love doing! The Dark Finds You was such an easy and pleasurable book to write because the idea of how to link up some of my most beloved characters came so naturally that writing it felt like pure joy. It took six weeks and it felt like it wrote itself. This was back in 2023.
This also happened to me with Book One in the upcoming Black Hare Valley series. I wrote the first draft of book one in several notebooks over a six week period after we had a long-lasting power cut that prompted me to get writing. Each chapter led to the next and it just poured out of me. Most of the books that followed have been similar, although book 3 was a tricky one and book 5 still needs a lot of work.
Last week when I was reading through the paperback proof of The Dark Finds You to check for errors, I got addicted to the story once again. It brought back to me how much I love and understand these characters and before I know it my mind was asking questions. What if…? And then, what if…? You get the picture.
The thing is I did leave a few things a little bit open at the end of The Dark Finds You. I now wonder if I did that subconsciously because I still wasn’t ready to let go and say goodbye for good…
All I had to do was slightly alter the tiniest bit of dialogue in the novel for a part two to be possible…
The idea hit me like a bullet and exploded into pieces in my brain so violently I had to very quickly grab a notebook and write it all down before I lost anything. By Thursday last week I had outlined the whole novel chapter by chapter and could not resist writing chapter one in a notebook.
That was it then, and by Sunday night I had 30,000 words.
That’s a big word count for a four day period, but funnily enough we did have another power cut during this time that left me with no option but to write!
Extra scenes have obviously squeezed themselves between my original chapter outlines, but other than that, it is all unfolding exactly as it did in my head last week. Which makes it so incredibly easy… I can only describe it as like being in a trance and just letting it all pour out of me as fast as possible!
When it goes this well, it becomes very addictive. You just don’t want to stop or let anything get in the way of writing, when it is just begging to be written and the next chapter is constantly filling your head screaming to be let out.
I wrote so much over the weekend that it physically hurt. I think that is a new thing for me. My shoulders, neck, back and eyes were all begging for a break, but I just wanted to keep going. I had to force myself to stop.
It will slow down as the week ahead progresses because I have work and life to contend with, but I know I will feel the intense pull of it every day until I get to my laptop in the evening.
Obviously, it doesn’t always work like this! Last week before this all kicked off, I finally finished the first draft of my family mystery drama The 7th Child. This was a book that had been waiting its turn patiently for years and had the plot, location and characters all mapped out ready to go. It went well to start with but it didn’t burst out of me in the same way and by the end of that first draft I hated it! I have figured out how to fix it though.
So, it’s not always like magic. Sometimes it is much harder work.
Which is why it is always worth celebrating the joy of it going so well!
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1
Willow hovers anxiously around the cafe door, peering out, left then right, checking the time and panicking that she has somehow missed him. Her mouth is dry and her knees feel watery as she stares out at the fading light. Maybe he went by already, waved at the cafe and just assumed she saw? Maybe she was looking at her watch and missed him?
‘Can I get you anything, dear?’ the owner, Milly, asks from behind the counter.
Willow looks over her shoulder to see Milly frowning at her, her arms crossed over her apron. Willow is about to say no, when the door opens beside her and Alexa and Bryony barge in. They stop when they see her, their eyes doing that thing they always do so often now it’s becoming boring, scanning her up and then down, before looking at each other and giggling.
‘I’ll have a white coffee please,’ Willow calls to Milly.
She steps towards one of the window seats but Alexa beats her to it, stepping right in front of her to claim the chair, while Bryony slips unapologetically into the one on the other side of the circular table. Willow resists the urge to scream and backs up, her eyes on the street outside.
‘Hi Willow, where’s your boyfriend?’ Alexa asks in a sing-song voice. She’s twisted the front of her hair into little rows, each secured with a sparkly grip. Willow wants to pull one out and jab her in the eye with it.
‘What?’
‘Your loser boyfriend, Jesse Archer,’ Alexa repeats, twirling a length of hair around one finger while Bryony giggles beside her.
Milly storms over with Willow’s coffee and places it on a nearby table. ‘Sit down, will you? You’re making the place look untidy.’ She fixes her perpetual glare on the other girls. ‘And what do you two want? I’m closing in ten minutes!’
Milly skulks away and Willow is forced to take a seat at the table where her coffee was placed. Milly was not gentle placing it and half of it has been chucked across the tabletop.
‘You got to admit he’s the hottest one though,’ Bryony is saying to Alexa, who responds with a grimace. ‘Oh, come on, he is! He’s hotter than Steven and Dominic, anyway. He’s like a young River Phoenix!’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Willow retorts, her eyes on the window. She picks up the coffee and gulps it, burning her throat. She needs to be ready when Ralph walks by, but with Bryony and Alexa watching, she knows she can’t make it look too obvious. She doesn’t even want them to see Ralph. She swivels in the chair, allowing her cloak to drape to the floor and smiling as both girls eye her warily. ‘And why the hell are you two hanging around with Steven and Dominic anyway? They’re so braindead they make you two look half alive.’
The girls’ mouths fall open and Willow smirks at their reaction to the insult. Her eyes flick to the window. Come on, Ralph!
‘They’ve got a lot going on for them actually, Witchy Willow,’ Alexa spits, leaning over her table to further impress the point. ‘Steven works for his dad, so he always has money! They’re taking us to the cinema later!’
‘Picking us up from here,’ adds Bryony. They both look like they’ve modelled themselves on the girls from All Saints, with khaki coloured combat trousers and tiny cropped tops.
Willow glances at her watch and starts to panic. If she’s not out of here before Steven and Dominic arrive, this could get out of hand. Four people who have always hated her and two of them used to pal around with Jesse – it could get ugly.
Every time she feels a surge of bright fear, she thinks of Paddy, pictures his face and feels her resolve harden. Paddy had kept that book a secret for a reason – if they can get their hands on it then maybe it will lead them to him.
She gasps suddenly as Ralph comes into her line of vision. He has a book under one arm and she can tell that he’s trying very hard to walk as casually as possible, but there is something stiff and robotic about his movements as if he is having to think extra hard about each step and breath. She knows how he feels. He walks past and lifts his hand in a wave.
She waits a few more agonising minutes, forcing the coffee down her throat before leaving some coins on the table. Then she gets up and walks out before Alexa and Bryony can say another word.
2
Jaime, keeping her eye on the time, tries to picture in her head where Ralph could be by now. He should have waved to Willow and moved on. He could be on Taylor Drive by now if he’s walking fast. On the stage, the band are playing – some gentle melodic guitar music and lyrics about coming home. The pub is full. People are packed in to enjoy their Saturday night.
Jaime watches them and finds it hard to believe she has only been in Black Hare Valley a week. In that time she believes she has made some awesome friends, but only because she’s inadvertently discovered that the town has some dark secrets.
She watches Sergeant Mayfield now – out of uniform in a cable knit jumper and dark trousers, he looks a bit like a cheerful sea captain with his white hair and beard. He’s leaning on the bar between Mr Bishop and Mayor Sumner. Eugenie Spires and Sylvia Gordon are huddled together at a nearby table deep in conversation, and Mr Hewlett is standing with Vicar Roberts a little closer to the stage, Mr Hewlett with his arm loosely around Tahlia’s waist. Jaime can’t help thinking they make an odd couple. Thalia is round and loud with brassy blonde hair and a nose-ring. In her company, Mr Hewlett looks anxious.
Just then she is disturbed from her thoughts by her mother’s large belly. ‘Shift over, love,’ she says, smiling down.
Jaime budges along the bench and her mother squeezes in and holds an open bag of crisps between them. ‘I’m starving, I am. They’re pretty good, aren’t they?’ She gestures to the band.
‘Yeah. They’re awesome.’
‘Kind of thing you like?’
Jaime smiles and looks away. She imagines this is her mother’s way of checking in with her, making sure she hasn’t strayed too far into uncommunicative teenager territory.
‘Yeah, they’re really good, Mum.’
‘Did Ralph go home?’
‘I think so. He only dropped in to get a book.’
‘Oh, did he tell you his mum’s good news?’
Jaime looks at her mum. ‘What good news?’
‘Margaret has helped his mother rent a cottage in town,’ Catherine explains. ‘They don’t come up very often and his mum has been saving and working hard for years to move out of the caravan park. Well, one of Margaret’s came up and she’s waived the deposit so they can move in now and not miss out.’
‘Wow.’ Jaime isn’t quite sure what to think or say. Again, her gaze drifts towards the mayor, who is laughing gaily with her head thrown back at something Mayfield has said. They certainly seem close, she thinks. But maybe Margaret Sumner has no idea what sort of man Mayfield really is. Maybe the mayor truly is the wonderful woman everyone says.
‘I know,’ Catherine nods. ‘So generous. She really does have everyone’s best interests at heart.’
‘Wasn’t her mother a mayor too?’
Her mother nods. ‘Yes, she was. It seems to sort of run in the family. They do own a lot of land, I suppose. They’ve been here for a long time.’
‘Have you met whoever owns the farm on the other side of the valley, Mum? Mr Rowan, isn’t it?’
‘No, not yet, love.’ She reaches for more crisps. ‘He used to be on the committee until quite recently. I think his leaving is why they asked me to join.’
‘Oh, do you know why he left?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest. Someone did mention something about ill health, so perhaps it was that.’
Jaime opens her mouth to ask if Iris Cotton was ever on the committee but something stops her. She’s not sure what. Too many questions, too much interest now, could come back to haunt her later. She keeps her eyes on Mayfield and sees Billy Archer doing the same.
3
Ralph walks briskly through the trees; a strange mixture of wet, claggy mulch and crisp dry leaves crackle underfoot. He is as quiet as possible but it doesn’t feel enough. He moves fast, anxious to get his part done so that he can breathe again. His heartbeat hammers in his chest and his skin feels tight and cold. He reaches for the lowest branch, grabs it, and hauls himself up.
4
Jesse keeps to the shadows. The alley behind the row of shops is narrow and dark but night has not quite fallen yet and the windows glow above him. He keeps to the dark patches, close to the damp walls while the school looms over him from beyond the fading light of the playing fields. Almost two weeks ago he was planning to blow up this school. He, Steven and Dominic had the whole thing figured out – or so he had thought. But the entire time they had been laughing at him behind his back, knowing they were never going to show up.
He can barely believe they were ever friends – it feels so fake now, like lifetimes ago. While waiting for Willow, he thinks of Paddy. For some reason, thinking of Paddy always calms him down. It shouldn’t do, not really. It should rile him up, make him flustered and angry and reckless. But it doesn’t.
He thinks of Paddy and his careful fingers as he arranged the bandana over the butterfly to pick it up. He thinks of Paddy gesturing for Jesse to look through the telescope in his treehouse. The look of excitement and wonder on his face and the husky awe in his voice when he told Jesse he was looking right at Jupiter.
He thinks about Paddy and his glasses and his deep frown and the way he scrutinised just about everything he saw and read and heard, as if everything interested and inspired him. Everything. At school. At home. In town. It had fascinated Jesse; that thirst for knowledge.
He had never cared about school himself; never wanted to know more about anything or anyone. He had never understood those geeks at school trying so hard to get good grades, trying so hard to impress the teachers and parents. Jesse had never had to impress anyone and he’d never had a reason to try hard at anything. He’d never wanted to know how things worked, or what stars were made of, or how gravity worked or what a black hole was… But Paddy had known all those things, and more.
And not in a bragging, big-headed show-off way either. Paddy Finnis had wanted to know things because it excited him. Because he had this genuine thirst for knowledge. Something Jesse had begun to find interesting.
And more than that; Paddy had seen him. Not Jesse Archer the thug or bully, or Jesse Archer the victim, or Jesse Archer the bad boy people pitied. He had seen him. He had seen something else. Somehow, Paddy had been able to push away Jesse’s reputation. He had been able to wipe the slate clean and ask, who are you now? Who are you really? Who do you want to be?
And Paddy had liked him. Jesse is sure of that.
Jesse tries to see that version of himself now in the claustrophobic darkness of the alley way. If Paddy could see him now, what would he see? Bravery, determination, selflessness… Maybe.
He thinks about Paddy as he presses his back into the wall and keeps his eyes trained on the mouth of the alley where Willow should appear. He thinks about that curiosity – how he had to know everything and research everything and figure everything out and he wonders, is that what got Paddy in trouble? Something he found in that book that he kept secret even from Willow? Why hadn’t he shared it with her? Had he sensed some sort of danger or had he been warned? Of what, and by who?
One way or another Jesse needs answers. He has to do this, though the fear of being caught in Mayfield’s house makes his bladder feel weak and his stomach sick, he knows he has to do it. For Paddy.
He hears a noise and freezes, his spine pressed into the bricks. But it’s just Willow with her hood up, scurrying towards him. He breathes out slowly. It’s on.
5
Ralph straddles the bough, lowers the goggles over his eyes and positions the chainsaw. He is sweating despite the cool evening. His hair is greased to his forehead and he flicks it away from his eyes with one hand. His thighs cling to the bough, pressing into it, clenching together tightly as if holding it in place. His knees ache, his muscles are locked. He looks at the branch and the power line below it and hopes it will be enough.
Then he takes a breath, leans forward and gets to work. The noise is deafening but he works quickly, terrified that someone will hear him and come to investigate.
6
The lead singer has his eyes closed and his face is upturned, one hand clutching the microphone and the other balled in a fist against his chest. When the lights go out, the instruments fall silent and the mike whines and cuts out and he takes a moment to realise he is singing alone.
The pub is consumed by darkness, except for the flow of the fire which lights up the crowd like silhouettes. There are oohs and ahhs and a few, ‘what the hell’s?’
Jaime remains seated, stiff with fear.
7
‘You okay?’ Willow hisses as she moves swiftly down to meet Jesse. It feels like there is electricity in the air around them, some sort of energy crackling and whipping. Jesse looks haunted, she thinks, his brown eyes swimming in a pale face as he emerges stiffly from the shadows. He is wearing the Green Day t-shirt again and Willow almost smiles at the sight of it. She had never pegged Jesse for a music fan, and Green Day are one of her favourite bands.
He nods once. They walk down to the other end of the alley and the lights go out above and around them. Willow’s breath draws in sharply. Her eyes swivel to meet Jesse’s. He’s gazing around at the sudden darkness and she can hear his fast, shallow breathing, Instinctively, she reaches for his hand and holds it.
‘It’s okay.’
His eyes are wide but he nods back. ‘Come on.’
She points to Black Hare Road and they walk out from the alley as casually as possible; just two teenagers strolling around town on a Saturday night during a power cut. Nothing to see here. Yet every hair on Willow’s body is standing on end.
Jaime’s mum lights a candle and places it on the table for her.
‘We’ve got a few torches,’ Mark says, passing by their table.
People are moving about cautiously. There was a small moment of panic and now its subdued to annoyance and acceptance. The flames in the large hearth provide enough light to make out shapes of bodies and faces, whilst throwing strange shadows on the walls.
‘Might as well go home then…’ Jaime hears people muttering.
‘It’s the whole town,’ someone else confirms peering out of the window.
He did it, Jaime thinks in triumph, then her eyes shift to check on Mayfield. He seems to be downing his pint in a hurry.
The band are laughing as they start to pack up. ‘Hope we still get paid!’ the drummer jokes.
Jaime looks back at Mayfield and is horrified to see he is shrugging on his coat. Mayor Sumner is shaking her head and gestures to her full glass of wine. He nods and waves. Shit, shit, shit.
But Jaime doesn’t have to worry for long. Billy has not taken his eyes from Mayfield and chooses that moment to grab his unsuspecting brother by the front of his denim shirt before sending him sprawling backwards into a table of people. People scream and yell and leap to their feet; drinks are spilled and glasses smash. Chaos follows, and Mayfield rolls his eyes in despair.
9
Ralph stares around at the deep black shroud that has fallen over the town and he can’t quite believe that he created it. Ralph, who has never broken a rule in his life, let alone any laws. Ralph, who always does his best to please everyone. He feels awed by the completeness of it, proud even. There is not a light to be seen. Even the skies above are an impenetrable black.
Black Hare Valley is gone. All he can make out are vague shapes and forms. Nothing tangible. It’s like some kind of magic trick, he thinks as he bags up the chainsaw and scrambles back down to the ground.
10
Jesse is barely breathing as he and Willow walk quickly down Station Road. He wants to break into a run but he knows it would be foolish to draw attention to themselves. The dark surrounds them – it seems to grow and swell, becoming so thick he can barely see the ground beneath his feet.
They pass the station and then Mayfield’s house, rounding the corner quickly so that they are finally out of sight. They don’t speak and Jesse is relieved. His throat is so tight and dry he thinks a croak would be the best he could manage. He pulls a crowbar out of his jeans as they flatten themselves against the house. They both scan the area, ensuring they are alone and then Jesse turns and expertly rams the flat end of the crowbar into the front door jamb. Willow, her lips pressed together and her brow knitted into a frown, watches over her shoulder.
‘Not your first time?’ she whispers, a hint of amusement to her tone.
He shakes his head then presses his weight into prising the door away from the frame. Wood cracks and splinters and in less than a minute, it gives and springs open.
He stares into the kitchen, arms hanging at his sides.
‘I’ll keep watch,’ Willow hisses from behind. ‘I’ll whistle if I see anyone.’
He nods grimly and steps inside with the crowbar dangling from one hand. There is no point hanging around and he doesn’t want to be here a second longer than he has to. So, he finds the stairs and runs up two at a time. A peek around two doors reveals Mayfield’s bedroom and a small, neat bathroom. The third door reveals something far more interesting.
His mouth drops open in awe. He wishes he had Willow’s camera because he’s quite sure no one would ever believe this if he told them.
11
The crowd move back as the two Archer boys grapple on the floor. Jaime is on her feet watching the fight but keeping Mayfield in sight. He wastes no time running over and makes short work of separating the brothers. It’s Billy who is currently on top, smashing his fists into Wyatt’s face and body. Although bigger, Wyatt appears slow and confused and its clear who has the upper hand in this duo.
Mayfield seizes Billy Archer and throws him away from his brother. He flies towards the bar where people leap out of the way as he rolls to a stop against two stools. Mayfield nods in thanks as Mr Hewlett and Mr Bishop wade in to grab hold of Wyatt, grabbing one arm each. He’s bloody and confused and obviously no threat to anyone.
Mayfield focuses on Billy. He grabs the back of his shirt, hauls him to his feet and pins him to the bar. The crowd looks on, amused and impressed as Mayfield wrenches Billy’s arms behind him, and produces a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket.
Jaime only has time to wonder what sort of policeman carries cuffs with him when he’s off duty, before she realises that Willow and Jesse are almost out of time. He’s going to arrest Billy and take him to the station.
12
The room is small but packed tight with electrical equipment. None of it is working because of the power cut but Jesse steps forward and runs his fingers over screens and keyboards. He guesses this is the control room for Mayfield’s extensive spying operation. This is what the cameras feed to.
They’re all set up on an L-shaped desk and under the desk are several small metal filing cabinets. Jesse shines the torch on them, kneels and starts yanking the drawers open. Each one contains ring-binders full of files, papers and photos.
You creepy bastard, he thinks in shock, easing each one shut when the drawers reveal yet more binders. There is nothing else and as far as he can tell, nowhere to hide a book the size of the one Paddy had spread out on his lap.
Then he looks up. He sees a square on the ceiling – a loft hatch. Jesse puts the torch between his teeth and climbs on to the desk, taking care not to step on any keyboards. He reaches out and pushes up with one hand. The hatch opens and he is able to slide it to one side. He leans out a little further, one hand planted against the nearest wall to steady himself and the other reaching around inside the hatch. His fingers graze something – some thick cloth and when he tugs it, he realises it is wrapped around something heavy. Jesse smiles in relief. The book. It has to be.
Willow paces silently outside. She scurries back and forth, checking behind the station and creeping out onto Station Road to check for company. But the town seems still and quiet, like the darkness has made everyone fall asleep.
It feels like hours but it is only a few minutes before Jesse returns – hair damp with nervous sweat as he strides towards her, holding a bundle in his arms. Shocked, Willow receives it when he pushes it into her chest.
‘Take it to the treehouse for the photos then get it back. Quick as you can.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll wait here. Go.’
There’s no time to argue. Willow holds the heavy bundle to her chest like a sleeping baby then takes off like the wind. She crosses over Station Road, driven forward by fear. Immediately she sees the open back gate to the Finnis garden and she squeezes through allowing one last glance over her shoulder to check no one is following.
The back garden appears tunnel-like in the darkness, narrowed further by tall, overhanging trees. She reaches the treehouse and hauls herself up the rope, only feeling safe once she has scrambled to the far side. She pulls out her torch and places the bundle before her.
Crouched on her knees, Willow unfolds the cloth and runs the torchlight over the book. It must be the one Paddy was poring over in secret, the one he found in the shop, the one he kept secret even from her. Her fingers are trembling as she runs them over the leather bound cover. The leather is a deep reddish-brown and its scarred by cracks and creases. There is no title and no author, just some strange black marks, almost making a pattern around the edges.
She pulls out the camera and takes a photo, her fingers reaching up to catch it before it drops. Knowing she might not have much time, Willow opens the book and focuses the camera on the first few pages. They are thin, fragile and yellowed by age. The writing is tiny and illegible and the symbols make no sense. She feels a swell of disappointment and frustration but then she remembers Jesse waiting in the dark and starts taking photos as fast as she can.
13
Sergeant Mayfield leaves Wyatt Archer for the landlord to admonish and steers the cuffed Billy Archer out of The Hare and Hound. Over his shoulder he sees Catherine Aster opening a First Aid kit up on the bar as Wyatt slumps groggily in a chair. Half of the pub have left and gone home.
Mayfield lets the door bang shut behind him and propels Billy Archer forwards, marching him across High Street towards Alfred Lane. He doesn’t give much thought to Wyatt still in the pub; he’s never interested Mayfield very much – too slow and dim, incapable of independent thought. But the elder Archer has always been as much of a hooligan as the youngest one. He’s a thieving, poaching, fighting, dishonest piece of shit and again Mayfield wonders at the unfairness of it all. A good boy like Paddy Finnis versus reprobates like the Archers.
He supposes he can see Margaret’s point of view to some extent. You can control criminality; it’s not difficult at all but Mayfield would rather eliminate it and would have a lot of fun doing so.
‘On my night off, you irritating piece of scum!’ he hisses over Billy’s shoulder. ‘Thanks a lot. Your family are nothing but trouble around here. Always been the same.’
Billy Archer just chuckles. ‘Our pleasure, Sergeant. You’d be bored without us and you know it.’
Mayfield considers this could be true… Although there are obviously other unsavoury and untrustworthy characters in town, the Archers are renowned for causing trouble wherever they go. He decides to shut Billy up. He doesn’t like the smugness of his tone.
‘Useless boys,’ he purrs, pushing his face next to Billy’s. ‘Dirty drunken father, no good to anyone and what about your poor old mum, eh? That really was a tragedy watching her unravel over the years.’
Billy falls silent, his movements stiff as Mayfield directs him onto Station Road.
‘It was such a slow process,’ he goes on. ‘I remember when she was such a sweet and lovely young girl. Christ, your old man was obsessed with her back in the day. Followed her around like a lovesick puppy he did. She should have run a mile but for some reason she fell for the piece of shit and then it all started falling apart after she had you lot, didn’t it? Motherhood really wasn’t for her, that’s for sure.’
‘Shut up,’ Billy says through clenched teeth.
‘I mean, she got worse with each one, didn’t she? The depression. Not going out. And by the time Jesse arrived she could barely care for herself let alone a new baby. Everyone tried to help her though. Do you remember that, Billy? Neighbours doing your washing, townsfolk dropping off food. But everyone knew at some point she would crack.’
They cross the road and approach the station. Billy drags his feet. ‘Shut up,’ he growls again. ‘You’ve got no right to talk about her.’
Mayfield lets out a hungry growl and pushes Billy into the wall. He turns his face just in time but gasps as the brickwork scrapes into his forehead and cheek. Mayfield places his forearm against the side of his head and holds him in place.
‘I can talk about whatever I like,’ he snarls. ‘For instance, I’d quite like to talk about your youngest brother and how all I have to do is snap my fingers.’ He clicks his fingers in front of Billy’s face, making him jump. ‘And he’ll be taken into care. Into our care. Mine and the towns.’
‘You can’t do that…’ pants Billy.
‘Yes, I can. We can. The mayor is particularly keen to help him, you know. She’d quite like to get him away from your grubby criminal clutches and give him a chance. Maybe he has a chance of a new start, eh Billy? A rebirth?’
Billy doesn’t answer, which is wise as far as Mayfield is concerned. His ribs are being crushed against the wall so he screws up his eyes and waits for him to finish.
‘I don’t agree myself. Don’t see the point. It’s too late for him – he’s a cancerous stain like you, Billy. But the mayor thinks it’s worth a shot. Just one click of my fingers, Billy, just one!’
14
Jesse hovers outside the back door. He’s pulled it shut behind him just in case he has to suddenly take off. His senses are in overdrive; every tiny sound or possible movement is amplified by a million. He can hear his own ragged wheezy breath and his heart is pounding in his ears like a drum. His eyes feel too wide, the eyeballs aching in their sockets. His nostrils are working, his mouth hanging open, but no amount of oxygen seems capable of easing his panic. His body wants to run. His feet are arching up and down as he lingers at the door and tries to picture Willow on her way back.
The soles of his feet bounce up and down and his knees bend, urging him to run. Suddenly, he hears a noise around the other side. Does he risk a look? What if it’s not Willow yet? He figures it’ll take her at least ten minutes, if not fifteen, maybe even twenty. She needs to get to the treehouse, take as many photos of possible in the relative safety it affords her, then get back. Plus, the book was big, heavy.
He swallows, grabbing his head momentarily, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to calm the hell down. If it’s not Willow, he will need to know anyway. He’ll need to run or hide or stay put but either way he needs to know. He listens again and thinks he can hear voices.
Slowly, Jesse moves around to the side of the house, inching along with his back pressed into the bricks, stopping and starting and listening for clues. He pauses at the next corner, barely breathing, straining his ears to listen. He hears another noise. Footsteps maybe. A grunt or a gasp.
He can’t bear not knowing so he closes his eyes again briefly, counts to three in his head then opens them and peers around the corner and into the street. What he sees makes his blood run cold. It’s Mayfield with Billy in handcuffs.
Jesse ducks back and runs to the back door. He presses his hands to his mouth, swallowing screams, he’s here, he’s here, oh fucking fuck, he’s here! Then he drops his hands, forcing himself to focus. He still has time. Mayfield has obviously arrested Billy – he can’t just sling him in a cell. He’ll have to process him, won’t he? Fill in forms? That takes time. He still has time.
Calm down, he tells himself, calm down and think of Paddy. You can do this. There’s still time. And suddenly, there are footsteps again – fast, then slow, then fast again until Willow comes reeling through the darkness clutching the wrapped up book.
‘He’s in the station!’ she hisses, practically throwing it at him.
‘I know. I’ve got time. Did you get enough?’
‘Think so. Go!’
Jesse opens the door. ‘Get out of here,’ he says, flicking his head towards the darkness. ‘Go another way home and don’t let anyone see you.’
‘But what about you-’
He slips inside. ‘I’ll be fine, ten seconds tops. Go!’
She starts to move then stops. ‘Remember to meet at the ruins tomorrow? Ten?’
He nods then watches her turn and run in the opposite direction before closing the door gently behind him. As he takes the stairs, Jesse imagines Mayfield next door; unlocking the cells, uncuffing Billy, doing the paperwork and he knows he has time. It’s seconds. Three on the stairs, two getting the hatch open, one shoving the book back in, two more closing the hatch and getting down, two more on the stairs…
He’s nearly there; nothing went wrong, he didn’t trip or stumble or drop the book or break the desk or anything like that. He’s done it and he’s nearly there. He runs for the back door and can’t stop his feet from continuing to move forward even when he sees the monstrous form filling the space in front of it. He can’t even see the door, Mayfield is so big, so wide, so impossible.
Jesse’s eyes widen in horror, his mouth stretches into a silent scream and everything seems to happen in slow motion. He tries to stop but he can’t. He slides along the floor in a skid, arms flailing helplessly.
As he looks up into Mayfield’s rage-filled face he sees the monster within, and somehow he knows, somehow it all makes sense. He was the one stalking him that night, he was the one who left the footprint…
He stands there, a man, blue eyes demented with fury, mouth a red-lipped snarl standing out like a bloody kiss between his moustache and beard. He clutches his police baton in one hand and suddenly he swings it and it crashes into Jesse’s legs, stealing them from under him. He hits the floor, his spine tingling with shock and his head bouncing against the hard tiles.
And above him, the man roars.
It is not a human sound. Something else escapes alongside Mayfield’s ordinary voice. Something dark and guttural, something cold, hungry and primal. Something inhuman.
The roar causes Jesse to press his hands over his ears and screw up his eyes. It echoes inside his brain, ricocheting around inside his ear canals. It is so loud his ears are ringing with it. He can’t think, can’t move, can’t process what he heard.
Then, the atmosphere shifts and Sergeant Mayfield is standing over him, breathing fast, his head low on his shoulders. His top lip lifts in a parody of a grin. He shakes his head slowly, feigning disappointment.
‘You’ve done it now, boy.’
Jesse scrambles backwards, keeping his eyes on Mayfield but the sergeant moves fast, swinging at him again, this time the baton catching his shoulder. He grunts in pain and tries to roll away but Mayfield grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him to his feet before slamming him into the kitchen wall behind. He gasps, but barely has time to recover before Mayfield flicks his wrist again, striking his ribs with the baton. He crumples.
Mayfield keeps hold of him but lets him sink to the floor. ‘What’re you doing in my house, you filthy little shit?’ he growls into his face.
Jesse breathes through the pain. ‘Nothing! Sorry! Just mucking about, please…’
He can already feel the pain before the next blow makes contact. The baton again, a short sharp smash of the same ribs. He thinks, he’ll kill me, he’s going to kill me.
‘You’re done,’ says Mayfield, then, letting go and standing over him. ‘You are done.’
He raises the baton and Jesse curls up, tries to cover his face, then changes his mind and wraps his arms over his ribs instead. The baton comes and he sees too late that it’s coming straight for his skull.
15
Mayfield leans over the silent body, watching. He kicks a leg. Nothing. There is a smear of tacky blood on the end of his baton. He steps back and walks around the kitchen slowly, inspecting his belongings. Nothing appears to have been touched, moved or broken. Satisfied for a moment, he moves into the lounge and checks there. Everything is as it should be.
He thinks about his surveillance room. But of course Jesse already knows about the cameras. Perhaps he was hoping to sabotage them… maybe he caused the power cut?
Mayfield goes back into the kitchen, kneels beside him and checks he is breathing. He then pulls his wrists in front of him and cuffs them together. Just in case.
He leaves the room again and plods upstairs. He checks the bedroom and bathroom but they appear undisturbed. He is more concerned about the surveillance room and he opens the door cautiously, almost expecting another rogue teenager to come barrelling out on him. When nothing happens, he shines a torch over every inch of the room and can’t find anything amiss. What the hell was that boy doing? Maybe he didn’t even come up here. Mayfield shines the torch on the carpet looking for telltale footprints but he finds nothing.
His eyes swivel upwards. The hatch. The book.
Shit.
Maybe the Finnis boy told him…
But no… that’s not possible. It doesn’t make sense. Then another thought: maybe the other boys told him, caved in to pressure and blabbed? Mayfield reaches up, slides the door to one side and feels around for the book. When his fingers touch the soft cloth its wrapped in, he sighs in relief and closes the door on it again. It’s still there.
So, what the hell was Archer up to?
He thinks about the power cut, followed by the fight in the pub – coincidences or events set in motion to distract him? He exhales slowly through his nose, mouth pursed, then he hurries back downstairs and decides to call Hewlett.
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 Fourteen “The Black Hare.”
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
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.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
1
Willow Harrison knows exactly who the strange girl at the window is. In a small town like Black Hare Valley, any news is big news and her parents have told her all about Mark Aster returning to Black Hare Valley to reclaim the Hare and Hound pub after his father, Clive, passed away.
It was no secret that they never got along and that Clive Aster never forgave his only son for not marrying or reproducing. Who had the last laugh, Willow wonders now, staring at the girl’s moonbeam face. Mark Aster now has a wife, a step-daughter and a baby of his own on the way. Nice work, she concedes, and just look at that poor soul. Not a clue…
The girl seems frozen. Her face is a mask of panic, embarrassment and possibly hope. If she thinks Willow is going to move from her cosy spot behind the counter, she has another thing coming. Willow glares at her, wishing her away.
Suddenly, the girl turns, her attention averted by the clatter and chatter of two girls leaving Milly’s Café next door. Now Willow’s mood shifts. When she sees it’s the abhorrent Alexa Bradley and Bryony Duggan, she feels a surge of pity for the new girl. The inanely grinning, chubby-faced, mud-splattered new girl. A long sigh escapes her lips and she pushes back her hair before slinking out from behind the till and approaching the window in wonder.
It’s a bit like watching a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The perfect teenage girls versus the inadequate and desperate to please new specimen, who Willow can tell from even such a brief view, is not the kind of girl Alexa and Bryony would give the time of day to in a million years.
She watches in absolute horror as the new girl offers them her hand to shake…
Oh God, no.
The perfect girls titter and giggle. They say something that causes the new girl’s smile to wither and fade. Then they skirt around her like they are avoiding dog shit on the pavement. Willow watches. The girl sags, then makes a snap decision to bundle hurriedly across the road and divert almost blindly down School Lane.
‘Where they will return to eat you alive…’ Willow murmurs to herself. ‘Leaving only bones,’ she adds as she turns away.
The door opens and the bell jingles and Willow half-expects the girl to be back, but no, it’s the vicar, Gregory Roberts.
Oh, Christ.
Won’t he ever give up?
‘Good afternoon, Miss Harrison!’ he declares in the same booming and authoritative voice he uses with his congregation at Saint Marks church.
‘Afternoon, Vicar,’ she returns evenly, her face expressionless.
‘Wet out there,’ he says rather pointlessly as he aims his folded umbrella at the floor and gives it a vigorous shake. Willow watches the rainwater spraying across the shop, peppering the books and gifts with droplets. ‘But don’t you worry, the May Queen will still be crowned!’ He flashes her a toothy smile. ‘It will just be inside a rather large tent.’
‘I wasn’t worried.’
He ignores the comment as he takes off his glasses to rub them dry on the inside of his coat. His red hair is thinning on top so he keeps it very short and neat. He is always clean shaven and is remarkably unwrinkled for a man of forty-eight. His skin has a loose, smooth quality to it. He is a portly man with a chin that blends into his neck and he is rarely seen without a sheen of perspiration on his smooth forehead.
‘What a shame you have to work!’ he goes on. ‘Mind you, I suspect it will be a smaller crowd than usual, what with the weather and everything. It really is blowing up a storm out there!’
‘Yes,’ Willow agrees, her voice soft as she glances at the window and the soaked town beyond it. ‘It is. How can I help you?’ She heads back to the counter, the new girl entirely forgotten.
Vicar Roberts looks around the gift shop and laughs out loud. Evidently, he has no idea how offensive he can be at times. Willow rolls her eyes, plonks herself down on the stool and picks up her book.
‘Oh no, no no,’ he says, not moving from the door. He rarely comes in any further, as if slightly afraid of the place. ‘I was just passing.’
Of course you were, she thinks.
‘Popping next door for a cream tea, actually,’ he goes on. ‘Plus I’m spreading the word about the marquees they’ve been erecting in the park. We don’t want people missing out on the celebrations just because of the rain. Oh, it was lovely this morning though!’ he tells her. ‘Isn’t it funny how it can change like that?’ He laughs as if it is all a great joke and Willow stares down at the pages of her book, wishing he would just leave. ‘Are your parents in? I was hoping to talk to them again about the neighbourhood watch committee.’
‘They’re a bit busy right now,’ Willow sighs, ‘but I’ll pass on the message.’
‘Oh. Okay. Right then.’ The vicar frowns and for a moment his lower lip protrudes like a sulky child. ‘And your mum is all right?’ he adds as an afterthought, although it can’t be, not really. He asks every time he comes in and Willows mother nearly always hides from him.
‘Yes, she’s fine.’ It’s always the same, Willow thinks in frustration, he just never gives up. He shifts slightly towards the door, umbrella in hand, but she can tell he hates to leave without getting what he wanted.
Go, please, just go.
‘Oh,’ he says then. ‘You will tell them about the marquees, won’t you? I really don’t want the weather putting people off. May Day is such an important event in the calendar.’
Willow releases the tiniest of sighs.
‘Oh, and you could pass on another message if you like.’
She raises her eyebrows and waits.
‘The new people arrived.’
‘Oh yeah.’ She looks back at her book. ‘I know.’
The vicar steps forward again. ‘Oh, you’ve seen them?’
‘Yeah, the girl was out there earlier.’
‘Oh, how lovely! I know the mayor was going to visit them and see if the mother would be interested in joining the committee. I do hope she was successful. Then of course for the girl there’s Sunday School, the Youth Choir…’
‘I’ll tell them,’ Willow cuts him off with a tight smile.
The vicar Roberts looks at her for a moment and Willow stares back at him. She keeps her expression as blank as possible. His smile is still there but its weaker now, his congregation cheer frozen. Willow waits.
He opens the door. ‘As you were.’
‘Goodbye, Vicar.’
He leaves. She watches him outside, putting the umbrella back up, flicking up the collar of his raincoat. He waits for a moment, as if gathering himself together. Then finally he strides away and out of sight.
‘Fuck you,’ Willow says, putting down her book. ‘Mum?’
‘Is he gone?’
‘He’s gone.’
Her mother’s pale face appears around the door to the stock room. She wears her dark hair long like her daughter’s and her slim frame is enveloped in a paint-splattered old shirt. She gently twists the ring through her nose and sighs wearily.
‘Well, thank goodness. D’you know, some things never change? I used to hide from him as a kid. Now all these years later I’m doing it again.’
Willow opens her mouth to ask what her mother means, but promptly changes her mind. She does not need to know. As much as she loves and appreciates her parents, Willow is not particularly interested in what they were like at her age, what they did, where they went. It might be the same town, she often wants to tell them, but it’s the 90s now, not the 60s. It’s different.
She checks her mother’s expression and demeanour though; she can’t not. Willow has learnt to spot the signs. Sometimes she thinks her mother’s depression is like a sleepless monster that lives inside of her. It claws her away from time to time, making her bleed. But she seems okay at the moment. So there is hope.
Her mother waves a hand at her. ‘Darling, you can go. I’ll take over. Not that we’ll get much custom in this weather.’
Willow does not need to be told twice. She grabs her own raincoat from the hook next to the door and zips it up over her black clothes.
‘I’m going to Paddy’s.’
‘Thought so.’
2
Willow slips out. The coast is clear. She can hear roars of laughter from the cafe as the vicar’s repertoire is eagerly received by Milly and all the other old women.
Willow crosses the road, holding onto her hood. The streets are deserted. As she cuts down School Lane, she sees someone up ahead. A bright blue anorak and duck yellow wellington boots. It’s the new girl. Willow slows, reluctant to bump into her. The rain is harder now but if she walks too fast she will easily catch up with the girl.
Part of her thinks, well, so what? Maybe I’ll say hi. Maybe I’ll tell her not to give a fuck about Alexa and Bryony. But part of her doesn’t want to be anywhere near this new girl. Her desperation was just too tragic. Willow is not good at sympathy and struggles with empathy too. She knows she won’t be any good for the new girl, so what would the point be?
She thinks about Paddy and their ongoing story and her mind is made up. The Tale of Dirty Feet and Esme is a story they have been writing together for almost a year now and the lure of another chapter is too important. The idea was born on a lazy July afternoon last summer when they were lying behind the old ruins that overlook Bob Rowan’s land. They were watching hares, she remembers, when fascinated and amused by their antics, they started to give them all names. Dirty Feet was the biggest boy and Esme was the smallest girl and together they got up to the most mischief. Before they knew it they had planned a story where the hares could talk and dream and plan just like humans.
Willow is normally a private writer. She doesn’t even hand her best work in at school. She thinks writing is a way to both make sense of life and endure it. In her darkest moments, she scrawls angry poems in notebooks she keeps stuffed under her mattress. In her darkest moments, Willow feels a bright hungry fear that she is turning into her mother.
Their story took them over last summer, Willow remembers now, with each of them injecting ideas and dreaming up adventures for the two hares. They had started to take turns to write it down and it had been a surprise to Willow to realise she could share both her writing and her ideas. It had never been just her story. It had always been Paddy’s too, and it still was. Paddy’s father had promised he would lend them his typewriter to type it up when it was finished. He would place it in the bookshop, he said, pride of place. The last time they’d worked on it, Paddy had been adamant he wanted to find a way to send the hares to space and Willow had hated the idea. It’s not a sci-fi story, she had insisted and he had winked at her.
The girl is suddenly moving faster. She’s almost running, which seems stranger. She goes out of sight, onto Black Hare Road. Maybe she’s really upset, Willow considers, picking her pace up a little. But if she is, why not just go home?
And if the girl is upset, so what? What can Willow do about it? Absolutely fuck all.
Unlike Jesse Archer, Willow has a healthy respect and even a grouchy sort of love for Black Hare Valley. It’s never quite turned on her the way it has Jesse. As she scuttles along its rain washed streets she feels a sense of it cleansing itself when it has to. She catches glimpses of the hills on either side of the valley – a vibration of their foreboding, patience and longevity fills the town and as always, she pictures Dirty Feet and Esme dancing across the hills.
Willow, along with Paddy, has mastered the art of courteous exploration – spending their childhoods playing in the woods, paddling in streams and rolling down hills. They’ve pretended to be kings and queens, cops and robbers, witches and dragons and everything else in between for years. They’ve even snuck into the Holloway, made dens in it, clambered up its earthy claggy walls and left their footprints in the clay and mud. The Holloway, of course, is where Dirty Feet and Esme live.
The town has been their playground and as Mayor Sumner likes to say so often, it really does have everything they need. Willow supposes it depends to some degree what you need, but her and Paddy have been well provided for: hours of dipping feet in dappled water, resting on smooth pebbles while frogspawn floats, dragonflies hover and newts bask in the sun; day long games in the woods, hiding from the world, just them and their make-believe worlds; weeks of tracking and recording the natural world as it is permitted to thrive boastfully in Black Hare Valley; promising themselves that they’ll be able to finally see a legendary black hare but feeling equally satisfied and entranced with the brown hares they glimpse from time to time.
Willow and Paddy have been watched and watched over by deer, foxes, badgers, rabbits, buzzards, sparrowhawks … And if she feels watched over by anyone its by Vicar Gregory Roberts – but that’s because he is one of those religious types who thinks it’s his life’s duty to convert everyone else.
3
Willow passes the school. The clouds are moving fast, swollen with black rain. It feels suddenly much later, almost evening. There’s a chill around her legs and a cold wind blasts around the corner, forcing her to recoil.
She bows her head and moves faster. She stops at Black Hare Road and scans the area. There is no sign of the new girl. Maybe she ducked into a shop to escape the downpour. Willow shrugs to herself. She crosses over, still checking around just in case.
The Hardware and Pets store is closed. The bookshop is open – maybe she went in there? She looks like the bookish type… Willow pulls open the door and goes insides, immediately soothed by the familiar and comforting smell of dusty warmth and the residue of hazy sunshine. The bookshop shields her from the brewing storm.
It’s like a separate entity frozen in time. The pace is lighter here, slower, calmer. In here, you lose time. She can see quietly bowed heads wandering in every aisle and she can hear the delicate rustle of old pages being turned. She focuses on the threadbare carpet and imagines Dirty Feet and Esme padding gently across it to hide behind bookshelves.
She drifts through, calmer now, inhaling the smell of a million stories. Paddy’s dad is at the counter, and looks up from a book to smile warmly at Willow. Paddy’s father looks exactly how she imagines Paddy will when he’s a man. Marvin Finnis is thin and tall and wears glasses like his son. He gives off a gentle, old-fashioned vibe, she thinks, in his knitted cardigans and soft corduroy trousers. She cannot imagine him in jeans and a t-shirt.
‘Oh Willow, go on through. They’re in the treehouse.’
‘They?’
So, the new girl did come in here then? Did Paddy see her, maybe? It would be just like him to spot a girl in distress and offer her shelter and comfort. Willow can see how that would have happened. She feels a stab of jealousy and hopes he is not telling the new girl about their story.
‘Yes, Jesse came in again.’
Willow’s mouth snaps shut. Her hands clench. She swallows and moves stiffly away.
‘Okay, thanks Mr Finnis.’
Fucking Jesse Archer! The absolute shit. Willow storms through to the conservatory, while the rain drums relentlessly on the thin glass and outside the sky is almost black. What the hell is the malignant creep playing at? Did he really feel so humiliated by that bloody stupid assembly that he’s still taking his rage out on Paddy, who, he obviously fails to realise, was equally as humiliated?
‘God’s sake,’ she huffs, yanking open the door. Jesse Archer is a manipulative, lying, thieving little shit. He’s taking the piss out of you; she has tried to warn Paddy over the last six weeks. She has warned him more than once that he cannot trust an Archer.
But he doesn’t seem to get it. His soft, sweet heart malleable like putty. His intention to see the same honesty and integrity in others as he strives for in himself. It’s partly his dad’s fault, she concedes, the man is obsessed with giving people second chances. He seems to think Jesse’s father Nick had a bad time as a kid and as a result has passed that on to his own son. Not entirely sure what he means, Willow also doesn’t care. In her opinion, having a shit dad is not an excuse to be shitty to everyone else.
Willow scurries through the rain to the treehouse. Lightning flashes across the sky and thunder cracks as she clings to the ladder and makes her way up. She clambers into the shelter and for a moment is lost for words. Just then another roll of thunder crashes above them and the four teenagers all cringe at the same time.
Willow eyes the new girl distrustfully but it does make sense that she ran in here to shelter from the rain and Paddy welcomed her into his treehouse, because that’s how he is. Mr Finnis loves a stray and no doubt rounded her up and made sure Paddy looked after her.
It’s Jesse Archer that Willow really glares at. Why is he sat there like that, like he owns the place? It instantly enrages her. He walks around school and town like he owns the world; can’t they at least have one place that is sacred and safe? And why is he sat between Paddy and the new girl like he’s some kind of leader, just because he’s older and taller? Why were they having such an animated conversation without her? And why do Jesse’s eyes keep tracking to a spot in the pallet roof?
She scowls as Paddy helps her in. ‘This is my best friend, Willow,’ he tells the new girl.
New girl does that hand thing again – almost taking Willow’s eyes out. She jerks away from it, still scowling.
‘Jaime.’
‘Okay.’ Willow looks at Paddy. ‘What the hell, Paddy?’
He shrugs but he’s smiling. Of course, he’s happy to have these strange intruders in their treehouse, invading their hideout. He’s always enjoyed teasing Willow about how unsociable she is. She supposes he thinks this is funny.
‘Everything happened at once!’ he tells her.
Jaime lowers her hand, her bottom lip pulled in by her teeth. ‘I saw you in the gift shop.’
‘Yeah, I work there.’
‘Her parents own it,’ Paddy adds.
‘Oh cool!’ Jaime brightens again. She doesn’t seem to stay down for long… ‘It’s so cool that all our parents own businesses here!’
Willow frowns – is this kid simple? She really does look delighted with this pointless fact.
‘My mum is married to Mark and we’ve just taken over the Hare and Hound,’ she goes on, as if they didn’t all know that already. ‘And obviously Paddy lives above the bookshop. How cool is that? What about you, Jesse? Where do you live? What do your parents do?’
All eyes turn to Jesse and Willow smirks, enjoying his obvious discomfort.
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Tell her where you live, Jesse. Tell her about your parents.’
His jaw tightens and his expression sours under their persistent gaze. His arms are wrapped tightly around his wet jeans and Willow watches his fingers clasp together tightly, as if holding on.
‘Why all the questions?’ he mutters.
‘Here’s another one for you,’ says Willow. ‘Why are you even here and why won’t you leave Paddy alone and stop whatever this long-winded plot to humiliate him is?’
‘What?’ Jesse blinks at her.
‘You know what I’m talking about!’
‘No, I fucking don’t!’
‘Willow -’
‘No Paddy, I’m serious. Ever since that stupid assembly he keeps showing up here latching onto you. What for? He can’t really want to be friends. He’s up to something!’
‘Willow, come on…’ Paddy lays a hand on her arm but she shakes it off.
Her penetrating glare remains on Jesse. He tries to meet her gaze and hold it, but he can’t. His eyes are shooting all over the place. Guilty conscience, she thinks.
‘Maybe I do want to be friends…’ he says, his eyes meeting Paddy’s.
Paddy smiles while Willow growls.
‘You’re his fucking bully! Bully!’
‘Willow,’ Paddy tries again. ‘Seriously, you can’t be so cynical your whole life. He hasn’t done anything to me, I swear.’
Willow looks at Paddy in disgust. ‘Yeah, and you can’t be so trusting… I know he’s up to something. He’s always up to something!’
‘He just tried to blow up the school!’ Jaime pipes up excitedly.
They all look at her. Her blue eyes are wide, her small thin lips pulled into a huge smile. Willow can’t work her out. She looks like someone who just won the jackpot.
‘That’s what we were just talking about.’ Paddy turns to Willow. ‘See? Jesse tried to avenge us. Tried to get back at Bishop.’
Willow shakes her head; she can barely believe what she is hearing. ‘Are you actually serious?’
They all nod. Jaime is grinning like a loon, while Paddy’s eyebrows are arched as if suggesting this act of insanity proves his point somehow, and Jesse is just glaring back at her like; yeah, so what?
‘You tried to blow up our school? Are you fucking stupid?’ She holds up a hand. ‘No, don’t answer that. I know you are.’
‘The policeman caught him in the act,’ Jaime witters on. ‘I got photos and everything.’
Jesse looks away – his lips are moving but nothing is coming out.
Willow leans forward. ‘What do you mean, you got photos? Of what?’
Jaime looks hesitant but then unzips her anorak to reveal the camera. ‘I got this for my last birthday,’ she says. ‘Do you know anywhere I can develop the film?’
Willow throws up her hands aggressively. ‘Why are you wandering around taking goddamn photos of people? That’s not gonna make you any friends, you know!’
Jaime zips it back up. ‘I’m a reporter.’
‘She wants to be…’ Jesse murmurs.
‘She’s just curious,’ Paddy says, helping her out. ‘I think it’s an admirable quality.’
Willow elbows him. ‘You would.’
Jaime looks at her lap. ‘It’s my ambition, that’s all. I get a bit carried away sometimes.’ Her gaze shifts to Jesse, and Willow, watching, sees her eyes glaze over a little, her lower lip droop. Oh God, no. ‘I won’t do anything with them,’ she tells him quietly. ‘I promise.’
‘You’re not gonna blackmail him?’ Willow asks. ‘Well, that is disappointing.’
‘I’m not gonna do anything,’ Jaime says, her eyes still on Jesse, who is doing the shifty eye thing again, trying like hell not to make eye contact with any of them. What is he up to?
‘You’re not gonna write a story or anything?’ he finally asks, glancing just briefly at Jaime.
She beams back at him. ‘No! Of course not. Not now I’ve met you.’
‘You should probably give him the photos when you develop them,’ Paddy suggests, ever the voice of reason and fairness. ‘That’d be the right thing to do. He won’t want his dad seeing anything like that.’
‘My dad won’t care,’ Jesse snorts, his top lip raising.
Willow snorts back in agreement. ‘His dad is a bigger criminal than he is.’
‘But what about the policeman?’ Jaime looks bewildered, staring at them each in turn. ‘Won’t he tell someone? Won’t he tell your dad?’
Suddenly, all eyes are back on Jesse and Willow can tell that he hates it. He opens his mouth then thinks twice and closes it again. He shifts his backside and glances at the door. Willow can sense his desire to escape. More than anything right now she can feel how much he wants to just run. He gulps. His panic reeks. For the first time, Willow is genuinely curious about this boy. What is he so panicked about? What is he hiding?
‘Maybe he let you off with a warning?’ Jaime suggests for him. ‘Police can be like that sometimes. Like, maybe he wanted to give you a second chance.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Jesse sighs, eyes down. He pulls at a strip of rubber coming loose from the soles of his fake Nike trainers.
‘Well, what then?’ Willow demands. ‘Truth time. Who was it, Mayfield? I bet it was Mayfield.’ Jesse nods reluctantly, not meeting her eye. ‘What, he just catches you trying to burn down the school and lets you off with a warning? No way. I’m not buying that.’
‘Does seem kind of strange,’ admits Paddy.
‘Very strange,’ Willow goes on. ‘Tell us what you saw, Jaime. Did Mayfield even take Jesse home?’
‘I don’t know where he lives, but no. He just drove him here and let him out.’
‘He lives in the scuzzy flats on Taylor Drive,’ Willow says, not taking her eyes off Jesse. ‘So, what else?’
‘He was in handcuffs.’
Jesse’s face burns.
‘Handcuffs?’ Willow inhales, her eyes stern. ‘Well, well, well. You better start talking, Jesse Archer. What the hell is going on between you and Sergeant Mayfield?
Thanks for reading!
Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this latest chapter. Who is your favourite character so far? What are your thoughts on the town?
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 Five “Ralph – Monster Hunter”
The Glorious Outsiders 