folklore

Black Hare Valley: Chapter Eleven “The Book”

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1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh?’

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

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

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

‘All sounds wonderful.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Keep his father for leverage,’ shrugs Margaret.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh Aaron, will you let it go?’

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

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

‘And what about them all being friends?’

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

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

2

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles then turns to run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesse frowns. ‘I didn’t-’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He keeps shaking his head. ‘No thanks.’

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

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

3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4

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

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

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

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

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

‘I found a tree!’

‘I got more books!’

‘What? Like Paddy’s?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh God, what the hell?’ hisses Jaime

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

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

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

‘The tree?’

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

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

5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6

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

‘Jesse!’ he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Then what?’

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

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

Jesse stops pacing and watches him, waiting for more.

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

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

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

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

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

7

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What time?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What about mine?’ asks Willow.

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

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

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

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

‘Your flat?’ suggests Willow.

He snorts. ‘No chance.’

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

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

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

Jaime blushes. ‘Thanks!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Do you think its related?’ wonders Jaime.

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

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

‘Maybe.’ Ralph shrugs unhappily.

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

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

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

‘Oh my god,’ whispers Willow.

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

Jesse’s jaw drops. ‘Seriously?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading!

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

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

COMING NEXT THURSDAY: Chapter Twelve “The Plan”

Black Hare Valley: Chapter Ten “The Search”

~ ChanAtkins ~ 2 Comments

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The Holloway – image is mine

Chapter Ten : The Search

1

They are spread out in a line from behind Black Hare Close to Walkers Road, just in front of the old Catholic church. Children in wellington boots and anoraks, teachers and volunteer parents are dotted along the line to give instruction. There are some important rules to remember. Anxious to find something, anything that will mean he doesn’t have to help cause a power cut and break into Sergeant Mayfield’s house, Ralph listens to them earnestly.

Walk slowly, one step at a time, eyes down.

Put your hand up in the air and stop walking if you find anything at all, even if it doesn’t seem significant.

Stay in line, don’t press ahead or lag behind.

Don’t touch anything you find, wait for an adult.

Mr Bishop blows a whistle and they are off – participants in the slowest race in the world.

There is a solemn atmosphere. A hushed silence. It reminds Ralph of church, where you are expected to be silent and the pressure becomes too much so that eventually just breathing seems too noisy.

His own breathing already sounds louder than everyone else’s. Ralph is a few kids down from Jaime and can’t see Willow or Jesse. He feels a connection to them though – oh yes, like an invisible thread reaching between them as they plod forward in a straggly line with everyone else.

No one talks or mucks about; perhaps each child is imagining how it feels to be so lost. How it feels to be potentially scattered across such a long and sorrowful line. The mood has shifted in town, Ralph has noticed. Just this morning his mother spoke about Paddy in the past tense. ‘He was such a nice boy.’

And he overhears two of the parents in the line.

‘His poor dad must be devastated.’

‘You never get over losing a child.’

‘He’s so alone now.’

Do people think that Paddy is dead? Shocked, Ralph cannot bear the thought of it. He glares at the earth as he makes his steps, examining each grid of earth as ferociously as he can. And as he walks, he imagines Willow, Jaime and Jesse doing the same thing. Walking painfully slowly with heads bowed so low their necks ache, staring at each patch of grass and mud, looking for any trace, looking for Paddy.

Arms go up three times in the first twenty minutes.

It’s agony – everyone frozen with breath held.

A dog poo bag with footprint on it. Its catalogued but quickly determined to be a much larger shoe size than Paddy’s. Still, it’s something.

A curl of foil from a packet of Refreshers. Ralph fidgets, wondering if Paddy liked Refreshers. It is photographed and bagged up.

A cigarette butt. Bagged up.

They move on. Ralph’s side have now met the church. It’s empty – abandoned for years, Vicar Roberts now the only holy man in Black Hare Valley, but several adults have a key for the heavy locked door and they enter it, even though they make it clear that it has already been officially searched.

Ralph thinks it would have made a good hideout for a boy like Paddy – maybe even a good place to hide that mysterious book. But the adults emerge again, shaking their heads and Ralph has to trust that they are right, that there are no clues inside.

They walk under a vast grey sky until children start to complain that they are tired. A meeting is held between a few parents and Mr Bishop, then he blows his whistle again and everyone turns around and heads back.

Ralph feels agitated. Was it far enough? Was it long enough? What if a vital clue is just beyond the next field or over the next hill? Will there be another search? Will they keep doing this until they find something? No one speaks as they walk slowly back into town.

2

Willow resists the urge to catch up with Paddy’s father. She can see him ahead of her, walking along Black Hare Road with his head bent low. She would like to skip ahead, and take his hand into hers. She would like to pass something, some warmth or some hope onto him because despite the solemn, fruitless search, Willow knows that Paddy is still alive. She feels it in her bones.

Instead, she gives Mr Finnis a few moments of privacy and watches him shuffle sadly into the bookshop. As Willow approaches the doors she sees Mr Finnis still stood there, the sign switched to ‘closed’ as he stares out at the street.

He doesn’t seem to see her so she raps gently on the door. He blinks, looks vaguely surprised and then lets her in.

‘Willow, hi. I saw you at the search. Thank you.’

‘I’m sure there’ll be another one,’ she says quickly as the door clicks shut behind her. ‘In the other direction maybe?’

‘Maybe,’ he nods, turning away. ‘But they can’t find anything, Willow. Not a trace. Not a fingerprint or a hair, or anything.’ He wanders over to the till and sits down behind it with his hands in his lap. ‘I think they’ve given up.’

‘No, they can’t!’ Willow comes over to him, placing her hands on the counter. ‘They need more people, more police, or something. They’ll bring more in, won’t they?’

‘They did send a forensic team,’ Mr Finnis fills her in. ‘They came from out of town. They did a thorough search, Willow, a full sweep of the house and the shop but they didn’t find anything either. There are fingerprints all over the place, of course, his and mine, but nothing to suggest he left that night. It’s like he went to bed, closed his eyes and then just vanished into thin air.’

Mr Finnis sniffs and blinks.

‘Mr Finnis, can I ask you something?’

Mr Finnis sighs and nods. His eyes are wet and bloodshot and seem unable to focus on anything.

‘Paddy told me about a book and I just wondered if you knew where it was.’

‘What book?’

‘I don’t know exactly,’ she squirms. ‘Just a big old book he was excited about? One he kept secret, maybe? You know, to protect it because it was so old and valuable, maybe. He mentioned it to me but I never thought anything of it. It’s not in the treehouse, because I checked.’

‘Well, feel free to search upstairs,’ Mr Finnis shrugs. ‘But unless I know what book…’

Willow nods and glances towards the stairs. She supposes she will have to do a fake search because they already know how the book vanished from the treehouse.

‘Oh, hang on, might you mean the book we found in here?’ Mr Finnis says suddenly, pressing two fingers to his temple as if he has a headache. ‘I don’t know what it was called though. I didn’t pay much attention, to be honest. But Paddy found a big old book one day when we were closing up. I don’t think it had a title…’

‘Sounds like the one!’ Willow enthuses. ‘Did you look at it at all?’

‘No, just a glance. I was tired that day. Had a migraine brewing. I remember Paddy talking about it, getting a bit excited, you know how he is… But no, I didn’t look at it.’

‘Anything you could say about it?’ she presses, trying hard to contain her impatience, She stands as stiff as a board staring right at Mr Finnis.

‘Well.’ He scratches vigorously at the back of his head. He scrunches his face up in thought. ‘It was big, very big, I remember that. Big chunky old looking thing. Tattered. It had a thick leather cover. Other than that…’ He trails off, still scratching.

‘Was it one you ordered in? One you wanted to sell?’

‘No, no definitely not. It wouldn’t have fit on the shelves. Someone must have donated it. I can’t think who. I’d have remembered handling it.’

Willow finds herself backing off. Her mind whirling with possibilities. Mr Finnis slumps on his stool, his hands dangling over his knees.

‘If I find it, I’ll let you know.’

‘Thanks Mr Finnis, I was just curious. I better go now.’

He just nods and lifts one hand in a small wave that seems to zap the rest of his energy. Willow leaves in a hurry.

3

Jesse gets to the ruins early. Billy and Wyatt were not at home and he’s hoping they’re not here either. He’s desperately thinking of ways to make them leave as he follows Walkers Road until the dusty fork leads him away and into the dark hills.

It’s vast up here, open. The sky feels low, touching you, coating you in mist. The ruins are in the centre of the hills, looking down on the town. Halfway between the old catholic church and the Rowan Farm. A property as vast as its direct opposite Mayor Sumner’s Hill Fort Farm. The two colossal estates mark the entrance to Black Hare Valley, standing like beacons on either side.

When Jesse reaches the ruins, he scrambles over to the first low wall and past broken hunks of ancient brick. He stops at the furthest wall, the one with a small rectangular window still intact. Through the crack, you can see the first trees on the border of Rowan Farm. The first break in an endlessly grassy landscape.

It looks darker over there – with something more knowing and patient than Black Wood on the other side. Jesse stares for a while, his eyes scanning the line of trees as they follow the curve of a steep hill towards the Holloway. He recalls a school trip there when he was eight or nine – holding hands with his classmates as they entered the darkness of the ancient track, their teacher pausing to point out the scratchings and faces on the clay walls. He knows there are no school trips there these days because Bob Rowan won’t let anyone on his land for any reason.

Jesse remembers an outcry at the time; the local newspaper lamenting the loss of access to an important town landmark and a local historian being interviewed, expressing his dismay that the Holloway should become neglected, and eventually lost altogether. Jesse knows it is still accessible because he and his brothers have trespassed and poached there many times. He watches the land, narrows his eyes at the distant trees and thinks about the deeply trodden track they are hiding. He’s never followed it all the way; it’s never been allowed, but the rumour is it keeps going out of the valley.

He looks away finally, then reaches up, crawling his fingers along a mossy ledge of stone until they meet with a small tin box. He grins in triumph and pulls his brother’s weed down from its hiding place.

He shuffles down, back to the wall and tugs off the lid. A small soft bud of green stares back at him. Papers and loose tobacco pushed in at the sides. Jesse breathes out, anticipating the high and sets to work rolling himself a smoke. He feels like he deserves it more than ever before.

He has it lit when the group arrive, Willow first, grim-faced and restless, frowning at his choice of relaxation but saying nothing, only, ‘The book just turned up in the shop. Someone put it there.’

Already drifting peacefully out of the moment, Jesse absorbs this as a dreamy possibility. Someone left it there. It troubles him that Paddy is gone, that he was quite possibly targeted. He can’t help agreeing with Mayfield on that one; it should have been him. He exhales sweet smoke and waits as Jaime and Ralph come trudging across the dark to join them.

Jaime is as flush-faced as ever, snapping away with her camera. ‘This place is amazing! How old is it?’

‘Think it dates back to the 12th century,’ shrugs Ralph. ‘The hill forts are even older though.’

‘1200 BC my dad says,’ nods Willow.

‘Wow.’ Jaime is in awe as she turns in a circle to survey her new world. Jesse watches her, wondering if she will ever come to loathe and fear it as much as him, or whether she will always see it as an enticing mystery to be untangled. ‘So, there are hill forts on both sides of the valley?’

‘Yes.’ Ralph points to the other side. ‘Basically all the hills you can see are hill forts. They used to guard the town below. They could see enemies coming from miles away up here.’

Jaime snaps more pictures. ‘Wow. This place has so much history…’

‘Oh and there’s a Holloway down there,’ Ralph enthuses, dragging her by the elbow to point out the land beyond. ‘You can’t see it and we’re not allowed there anymore because it’s on Rowan’s land.’

She snaps a picture and lowers the camera. ‘Oh wow, my step-dad was telling me about the Holloway. It’s a path, right?’

‘An ancient path,’ Willow snaps with a roll of her eyes. ‘Just a path connecting towns to market places and other towns, that kind of thing.’

‘It’s like a path,’ Ralph explains, ‘but its deeper and lower because so many feet and wagons have pressed it down so when you’re walking it, you’re looking up like this,’ Ralph raises his eyes and his hands upwards, ‘and you can see tree roots and there are walls next to you.’

‘I need to see it!’ claims Jaime. ‘And what about Paddy? Would they have searched there?’

‘Who knows?’ Jesse shrugs.

Ralph is still staring at the landscape. He’s grinning at it almost proudly and every now and then he shoots a coy look at Jaime that makes Jesse suspect he would like to impress her.

‘Have you heard about the legend of the black hare?’ he’s asking her now.

She pushes her hair behind her ears. ‘Sort of. Mark mentioned the town was named after an actual hare. That people thought black ones were good luck.’

‘They don’t exist,’ Willow grumbles, her hands on her hips.

‘Probably not,’ agrees Ralph, ‘but the legend goes that a group of people were led here by a black hare, that it led them from famine and disease and war and brought them here. They passed the story down through the generations, and even wrote about it at one point, because that’s how the town got its name, because they thought the hare would be good luck.’

‘Load of shit peddled by the mayor and her ancestors,’ Jesse says scathingly, his gaze shooting to Willow who looks about ready to burst.

‘We need to talk about the book.’ She beckons to Ralph and Jaime and they huddle closer against the wall, where Jesse crouches with his smoke.

Ralph looks down at him, wrinkling his nose. ‘Is that…?’

Jesse just smiles and rests his head back on the old ruined walls.

‘Ignore him,’ snaps Willow. ‘Unless he’s got anything important to add, he seems to have checked out.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ says Jesse. ‘I’m right here, Willow. Tell us about the book.’

Hands in pockets, Willow grimaces as she stretches out her neck and stares up at the darkening sky.

‘I checked with Paddy’s dad,’ she tells them. ‘He knew what book we meant but didn’t get a good look at it so we still have no idea what it was or what was in it. But he remembered Paddy finding it in the shop and asking to borrow it. He remembers it was big and old with a brown cover.’

‘Any idea where it came from?’ wonders Jaime, pulling her notepad and pen out of her coat pocket. ‘He must keep track of his orders or any donations?’

Willow shakes her head. ‘Mr Finnis said he definitely didn’t order it and he’d remember if it had been handed in. So, someone left it there. Just put it on a shelf and walked out, I guess.’

Jaime’s eyes are as wide as saucers. ‘The mystery deepens!’

Willow slips down beside Jesse, her head in her hands as if it hurts her. ‘This is driving me crazy!’

Ralph and Jaime glance at each other in concern. Jaime kneels down beside Willow and tentatively puts an arm around her but Willow quickly shakes it off. She throws her hands up at the sky.

‘How can a kid just disappear? Vanish!’ She lowers her arms and folds them over her knees, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. No clues, they said. No trace. Nothing.’

‘No evidence,’ murmurs Jaime, looking away.

‘And what I can’t stop thinking,’ Willow adds with a hitch in her voice, ‘is that it must be bad for Paddy not to tell me, for Paddy not to get in touch with me. If he’s not letting me know he’s all right, then…’ She trails off, blinking furiously.

Jesse finishes his smoke and grinds the butt out on a rock. He runs his hands back through his hair. He knows what he should say now, what he should bring up and he knows if he doesn’t, then one of them will. And soon. But he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to put the plan in motion, set the wheels turning so that they can’t be stopped. There is a clawing fear gripping his flesh and he is frozen in terror at the thought of breaking into Sergeant Mayfield’s house. A big part of him just wants to walk away from the whole thing while he still can. These kids are not his friends, never were, never will be. Why is he helping them? Why does he care?

Ralph shifts his weight nervously. ‘Do you think it could have anything to do with the footprint I found?’ He shakes his head solemnly. ‘I tell you guys, they were not from a domestic animal. They were giant!’

‘There’d be evidence,’ Jaime tells him gently. ‘An animal attack would have left a lot of evidence. They haven’t found anything. Willow is right. He just vanished and we need to think about how that could happen.’

Jesse suddenly really wants to go home. The dark mould-stained flat that reeks of alcohol and sweat feels like the safest refuge in the world right now. He can’t stand the cold a moment longer and pushes himself up, rubbing at his arms.

‘We need to find the book,’ he mumbles, as they all look at him. ‘That’s the next thing. We need to get it back. So, we break into Mayfield’s house like we said.’

‘Okay,’ Willow says softly, her eyes on him. ‘A power cut. A distraction. In and out.’

His mouth feels dry as he nods back at her. ‘Just tell me when.’

Willow gets up then and links her arm through his. He’s so surprised by the gesture, he actually gasps.

‘We should get you home,’ she says and starts to walk. ‘You don’t look too well all of a sudden. Maybe you shouldn’t have smoked that.’

‘I don’t feel too well,’ he admits, staring at her.

Ralph and Jaime catch them up. ‘Are we going to decide when?’ asks Jaime. ‘I mean, I hate to bring it up but we should probably decide now while we’re all together.’

‘I agree,’ nods Ralph on her other side. ‘The sooner the better. For Paddy.’

Jesse agrees. For Paddy.

He shivers, hurrying along, the landscape now dark and full of shadows. He thinks he can hear something else under the chatter of the group as they head home. Something low and rumbling, something hungry but patient.

Jesse walks faster, making his strides longer, his arm still looped with Willow’s, which is still bothering him somehow, how she made that move, made him feel safe. He drags her along and she ups her pace to match his. Sweat breaks out across his frozen shoulder blades and he feels like if that noise, that vibration comes any closer, he will choke on his own screams and piss his pants all at once.

‘Come on,’ he urges, side-eyeing them. ‘I’m getting nervous.’

Wide-eyed, Jaime hisses back, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just nervous,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Like we’re being watched. Just hurry. Please hurry.’

They don’t argue. As a line of four linked arms, they break into a cautious yet determined run all along Walkers Road until they turn safely into Taylor’s Drive.

Only then does Jesse give himself permission to slow down and breathe. His face is grey, his lips trembling. The noise has gone. The absence of it is somehow more shocking.

He heads for his block in a hurry, dragging the others with him. He wants them all to come in and be safe too – but he knows he can’t let them see his rancid home, let alone allow them to sleep in it.

He turns to them, slipping out of the line. ‘Next Saturday evening? 8pm?’ His heart is in his throat beating limply. They all look at each other then back at him with a nod.

‘Are you all right?’ Willow asks him.

Jesse shakes his head. ‘Something chased me the other night and I felt it again then. It was watching us. I know that sounds crazy.’

They look at each other again. ‘Not really crazy,’ Willow says after a while. She sinks her hands into her pockets with a heavy sigh. ‘Not after spying policeman and vanishing kids. Do you want to tell us about it?’

‘Not really,’ he bites his lip. ‘I better go.’

‘Okay,’ she nods. ‘See you on Monday then.’

Jesse lets the doors close on them then hurries two at a time up the stairs. He doesn’t feel truly safe until he has closed and locked the flat door behind him.

4

The three of them cut through to High Street and say goodbye to Willow first. She lingers for a moment outside the shop, shivering as she frowns up and down the road.

‘It got dark again quick.’

‘I was just thinking that,’ Jaime agrees in a low voice. ‘Almost like the town wants us home.’

Ralph laughs nervously and when they both look at him he shuts up and stares at his feet. Willow tugs open the shop door and a bright warmth escapes and touches their faces. They breathe.

‘We better find him at school on Monday,’ Willow says of Jesse. ‘Make sure he’s okay.’

Jaime nods. ‘Of course. We’re gonna get to the bottom of all of this, Willow.’ She adds in the same low voice, ‘We’re not going to stop until we do.’

Willow manages a small smile then slips inside and closes the door. Jaime and Ralph fall in step together and walk down to the end of High Street. Ralph pauses at the doors to the pub but Jaime shakes her head.

‘I’ll go in the back way.’

Ralph nods as if he understands why. Through one of the windows, Mayor Sumner and Mr Bishop can be seen sitting at the bar chatting to Jaime’s step-dad.

‘They’re in a lot,’ Jaime confirms as they walk on. ‘Not always all of them but at least one or two, most days. Mark seems to think the world of them.’

‘Everyone does,’ replies Ralph.

‘Plus apparently the bar-maid Tahlia is dating Mr Hewlett.’

Ralph raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh. Didn’t know that.’

They move on in silence, crossing over the entrance to Lupin Lane beside the library. Jaime nudges Ralph as they pass by.

‘I’ll pop in there Monday after school. Just to check whether there are any similar books.’

Ralph winces slightly. ‘Don’t ask Miss Spires though. She’s on the committee.’

‘Okay.’ Jaime thinks for a second and then asks, ‘Are we really going to suspect all of them? The whole committee?’

Ralph looks uncertain. ‘About Paddy? I don’t know. But it’s probably best, don’t you think? I mean, it might not just be Mayfield spying and blackmailing. The committee are pretty tight.’

Jaime nods, thinking about her mother, but she keeps quiet. At the other end of Lupin Lane, Ralph gives her a little cheery wave though he looks as grey-faced and jittery as Jesse did.

‘Well, I’ll say goodbye here then.’

‘Will you be okay? Sure you don’t want me to walk a bit further with you?’

‘Nah.’ He shakes his head with a grin. ‘It’s not far. I’ll be fine. The town’s still busy.’

She looks around and agrees. Although almost dark, there are plenty of people and cars moving around.

‘All right then. Call for me in Monday morning?’

‘Yeah, definitely!’

Jaime stands on the corner and watches until he is out of sight, then she trots quickly down Lupin Lane to the pub garden gates. She’s just about to push the way in when something catches her eye. Back on the corner, a white shape – something and hesitant and about the size of a cat or small dog…. She stares right at it, at first thinking the rising moon is reflecting something else, throwing up a bright shape.

And then it moves.

It raises up on two haunches and Jaime can see a definitive shape now. A long body and long, erect ears. She steps towards it, mesmerised, her hands reaching for her camera. A rabbit? A hare? Then it turns and runs.

Jaime dashes back to the street corner and stares. At first she thinks it’s gone. She can’t see anything moving. But then she spots it again, a white shape loping along the High Street before vanishing into the woods beside Saint Marks church.

Jaime stares after it, transfixed. She has her camera clutched in her hands and wants to chase after it. But somehow she can’t move, can’t force herself forward. Maybe it’s the dense darkness of those woods, or maybe it’s the infectious fear Jesse felt up at the ruins. Maybe she imagined the whole thing. A white rabbit or hare running through town?

She laughs a little. No way. Her excitable mind is playing tricks on her. She laughs again, a little more nervously, then turns and heads back to the pub.

5

Ralph hears his mother moving around the caravan before his alarm goes off. It’s always the same routine on weekdays. She gets up at six, makes herself a cup of tea and a bowl of porridge and curls up in the lounge with a blanket over her. She likes to have her ‘me time’ at either end of the day. She says it gets her ready to face the world. A cup of tea, warm oats and just thirty minutes to herself.

At 6.30am Ralph hears her shower and dress. She always tries to be as careful and quiet as possible but the walls are like paper and he can hear every movement of her daily routine. He hears her pyjamas hitting the floor before she steps into the shower. He hears the hiss of steam. The window being cracked open to let it escape. He hears her dash to her room, shivering in a towel. He hears her brushing her long hair, zipping up her coat. At 7am, she peeks in on him.

‘You awake? I’m off now. Don’t lie in.’

‘I won’t. Mum?’

He face reappears. ‘Yeah?’

‘Can I borrow the chainsaw at the weekend? There are loads of trees down and I thought I could cut some up and sell them.’

‘Oh, did you now?’ She looks at him quizzically. ‘What do you need the money for?’

‘No for you, I mean,’ he says quickly, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘To help out.’

She breaks into a smile. ‘Oh okay, I see. Well in that case, sure, but be careful and take the goggles, okay?’

‘Of course.’

She ducks out then quickly returns, ‘Ralph?’

He props up again. ‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t mean to sound nosy but I did hear a rumour that you’ve been hanging out with Jesse Archer a bit lately. Is that true?’

Ralph freezes. He can’t quite see her expression in the shadows but he can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s been worrying about this, wondering when and how to bring it up. He panics. Should he lie? Didn’t they agree to keep it secret? God, he hates keeping secrets from his mum. She’s always been really hot on honesty. She’s always been completely open with him about everything. And also, why should they lie? They’re not doing anything wrong but spending time together. He enjoys seeing Jesse, feels a bond with him after everything that has happened. And if people are already gossiping…

He exhales slowly and makes a decision. ‘A little bit, yeah, Mum. He’s really not as bad as they say. I think people should give him a second chance.’

She’s quiet for a moment and he can hear her fiddling with her zip. Then she lowers her head slightly and sighs. ‘I think so too, honey. And I trust you. You wouldn’t let anyone lead you astray.’

Depends what astray means, thinks Ralph, but I am one hundred percent sure I am not being led by anyone…

‘Course not, Mum. You can trust me.’

‘I know I can. You’re a good kid. The best.’ She backs out, pulling the door to. ‘Make sure you eat a decent breakfast. See you later.’

‘Seeya, Mum.’

6

After a restless night haunted by dark, fragmented dreams, Jesse gets up to face a new day with grim determination. His father didn’t come home in the night and his brothers are vaguely grateful when he raids the room for dirty washing to cram into a plastic bag. He finds some loose coins on the kitchen windowsill and has a brief dilemma about whether to wash or wear his school uniform.

If he washes it, he can’t wear it to school and although skipping school is obviously appealing, he also doesn’t want to give Mr Bishop or anyone else the satisfaction of gloating over poor attendance so soon into the new term. He decides to wear it – slips his backpack on, grabs the washing and leaves the flat half an hour earlier than usual.

The town is already awake as Jesse slips around the back of it to reach the launderette at the end of the High Street. He wades through long wet grass, crosses Rowan Road and cuts through the community centre and Rowan Woods. By the time he gets there, his trousers are damp and his shoes are muddy but he doesn’t care. Often, Jesse prefers the shortcuts, the alleys, cut throughs and back ways to get around the valley. As much as possible, he prefers not to be seen.

The launderette is open. A face peers at him from the office at the back but they don’t come out. Jesse pours the filthy clothes into a machine, buys a small box of powder, adds it and slams the door before turning it on.

‘I’ll be back for it later,’ he calls to the face in the office and he sees a hand rise and wave in reply.

He considers the next part of his schedule and his stomach rolls over. Out on the High Street, Jesse jams his hands into the pockets of his school trousers and takes a minute to look around. There is gentle movement everywhere. In the hairdresser’s next door, Alexa Duggan’s mum is turning on the lights and flipping the sign on the door to ‘open’. She gives him a glare through the window but he ignores her and crosses the road. The Fish and Chip shop, the grocers, the butchers, are all coming to life with yellow lights and yawning staff and hungry cash registers. Jesse walks past the small woods beside St Marks and continues down to the very end of High Street until he can see Black Hare Cottage in the distance.

It’s small thatched roof looks desolate and neglected. It’s surrounded by trees and through them a small wooden walkway is visible stretching out over the shimmering lake. Jesse can see a spiral of smoke belching from one squat chimney. He walks over the bridge, keeps to the left and slips through the trees.

At this time in the morning Iris Cotton must be at home. The fire is obviously burning. He creeps closer, straining his eyes to glimpse a small window lit up with internal light. The camera sits heavy like a guilty secret in the back pocket of his trousers.

Jesse moves on full alert, barely breathing until Black Hare Cottage is fully revealed. Through the trees he can see the holly hedging that surrounds her plot. The cottage faces away from town, looking over the lake. The back garden is a huge straggly field stretching out behind the house. Jesse can see two small ponies, heads down grazing, a wooden shed, a greenhouse and a line of fruit trees.

Iris has a reputation for being a recluse – someone who only goes to town when she needs something she can’t produce herself. Jesse hopes that Sergeant Mayfield is going to be patient – because unless he ropes in someone to help, this could be a very long job.

He crouches in the undergrowth, watching. While he’s waiting, he thinks about Iris Cotton and what she could have done to end up on Mayfield’s radar. She’s just an old lady, he muses; tiny, birdlike and slightly hunched. Her only relatives are her great-granddaughter, Sarah-Jane Cotton, an English teacher at Jesse’s school, and her son, Nathan Cotton, the nervous and almost definitely gay employee at Martins’ Chemist. They live together on Maze Lane, Jesse remembers, but do they visit Iris much? Or is she usually alone?

Wondering what she did to upset Mayfield, leads Jesse to wondering what Paddy and his father did. He wonders if he could ever summon the courage to ask Mayfield. The man is smug and arrogant – maybe Jesse can entice him into a brag?

Just as he’s about to give up his stakeout for the day and get to school, he spots movement at the cottage. A shuffling figure wearing a dark coat emerges from the front door and starts to make slow progress towards the lake.

Jesse watches from the shadows. It’s Iris Cotton, with a red woollen hat crammed over her tufts of flyaway white hair. It looks like candy floss floating around her head. She uses a cane and her back is crooked and she moves at a slow pace until she reaches the lake. She starts across the wooden walkway and he can just about see her fiddling with something at the edge. A net, or something. Is she fishing? Washing? Jesse cannot tell but all of a sudden, the old woman freezes.

She’s completely still, like a statue. Jesse feels the hairs flick up on the back of his neck. He feels the urge to back away. He feels seen. Exposed. Suddenly, her head turns and she seems to be staring right at him. He falls backwards in alarm, scrambling away through the trees and bushes.

7

Jaime sits nervously on the bench outside Mr Hewlett’s office which is next to Mr Bishop’s. Pupils are moving between classes but most seem to instinctively avoid this corridor. It is eerily quiet. She chews her nails, tries to breathe normally and wonders whether she is being watched.

Five minutes after the appointment was supposed to commence, the door to Mr Hewlett’s office creaks open and his pale, smooth face peeks out at her. She straightens up with a start.

‘Jaime. Come on in.’

She rises on weak legs and forces a cheery smile as she enters the office. It is cramped, dark and far too warm. A small, square sun-filled square window looks down on her as she takes a seat in the plastic chair opposite Mr Hewlett’s cluttered desk.

He sits down and examines her across the desk. His chubby cheeks and strangely smooth skin disarm her for a moment. His hair is pale and thinning but when she imagines a full head of it, she realises he really could be any age at all.

‘Thank you for coming, Jaime. This won’t take long. I just really wanted to check in with you.’

Her smile is frozen on her face. His voice is soft and low, almost a hypnotic whisper. Jaime nods in reply. ‘Okay. Thank you.’

His lips twitch with a little smile. ‘Good. With everything going on Jaime, this is a very worrying and stressful situation we are all in and we’re trying to make sure the students know we are there for them.’ He pauses, frowning. His head lowers slightly on his neck. ‘You can come to us.’

Jaime inhales. Breathes out. Tries another smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Hewlett. I’ll remember that.’

‘Good. Because you are very new to town and that can be stressful in itself, so I really just wanted to check in with you and make sure you know you can come to us any time. If you’re struggling in any way, I mean.’

Jaime shifts in the chair and eyes the door. ‘Thank you. I’m okay though, really. But I’ll remember that.’

‘Good. Good. And if there is anything on your mind, anything at all you’re concerned about, do feel free to find me here in my office any time. Or at weekends at the community centre.’

Jaime grips the arm rests of the chair and prepares to push herself up. ‘Thank you,’ she says again.

He leans forward then. ‘And what about friends? You’ve made friends, I see.’

Her mouth runs dry. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m making friends.’

‘Willow Harrison and Ralph Maxwell, is that right?’

Jaime can’t answer for a moment. She is too shocked, too confused by the line of questioning. He stares at her, into her, no smile now, just an intense frown carving up his smooth forehead.

‘Uh, yes,’ she shrugs. ‘I suppose so. Sort of.’

‘Anyone else?’

A flash of anger causes her to narrow her eyes at him. She stares at him for a beat and then looks to the door again, desperate for this to be over.

‘Jesse Archer?’ he prompts, leaning closer. She stares back at him, refusing to nod or shake her head. Instead, she wants to see where silence will get her. Mr Hewlett’s face cracks with a sudden smile. He shows his teeth and tilts his head. ‘Perhaps I heard wrong. Still, I hope you don’t mind me warning you about him. It’s just his reputation is not good. My girlfriend, Tahlia, lives in the same block as him.’

‘Oh, I love Tahlia,’ smiles Jaime. ‘She works in the pub.’

He nods. ‘She does. And you see that’s how I know about that family…’ He winces and then shudders. ‘Well, anyway. As long as you’re okay, Jaime? And you’ve settled in and made friends and everything is okay?’

Jaime nods and inches forward, her knees flexing, her feet planted and ready to move. She forces another smile, the fakest one yet. ‘Yes, all good thank you.’

He stays silent so she pushes herself up and edges towards the door.

‘Thank you then, sir.’

‘You’re very welcome. Good, good.’

Jaime slips out closes the door behind her and hurries down the corridor as fast as she can without breaking into a run.

8

School drags. There is Maths, which Jaime hates but is good at. English, which she loves but today she finds it impossible to focus and twice Miss Cotton berates her for daydreaming. There is a special assembly during which Vicar Roberts comes in to lead them in prayer for Paddy and afterwards, Mr Hewlett is on hand to offer support and guidance.

There is talk of another search taking place. There is Music, with the vicar’s second in command, Sylvia Gordon teaching piano. She does not smile once and seems to constantly examine the students with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Jaime finds her fascinating to look at though – a strange mix of severe and old-fashioned with her below knee pencil skirt, and overtly sexual, with her high shiny heels and tailored blouses. Her platinum blonde hair is styled in the image of old Hollywood film stars like Marylin Monroe.

Jaime does not see Jesse at all. She speaks briefly to Willow, who shares some of her classes but does not seem in the mood to talk today. Perhaps her mind is occupied with Saturday night. Jaime feels physically sick every time she thinks about it.

‘I can borrow the chainsaw,’ Ralph tells her at the end of the day when they walk along the High Street together towards the library. His voice is low, his eyes restless. Jaime doesn’t blame him. She’s been on edge since their meeting at the ruins. She couldn’t hear or see what frightened Jesse but his fear was impossible to disregard. It had infected them all and when he’d told them about being chased or stalked by something, she’d found it surprisingly easy to believe.

For now, Jaime tries to focus on something she can do to help, such as checking the library for books like the one they saw on the film.

‘If we cut down a tree to knock out the power lines,’ Jaime whispers back to Ralph. ‘Won’t someone be able to tell it was deliberate?’

Ralph pauses, his face paling. ‘Yeah,’ he croaks. ‘Probably.’

‘We need to try and find a half-rotten one if we can. When are we going to look? It has to be close to the lines. There might not even be any we can cut down without being seen.’

Ralph swallows thickly. ‘Better add that to the list of things to do.’

Jaime sighs and then pushes open one of the heavy doors into the library. It groans on its old hinges and they’re greeted by a rush of warm stale air and the unmistakable odour of books.

Despite everything, Jaime can’t help smiling and relaxing as the library reveals itself to her. It’s an old red-brick building; an entrance hall provides notice boards and male and female toilets. Through an arched doorway lies the rest of the library.

Straight ahead, the librarian desk – a thick counter top made of dark, shining wood and behind it, quiet activity – two assistants placing returned books onto a trolley and chatting softly, while the librarian, Eugenie Spires, holds court at the front, eyes bright and focused behind thick lensed glasses.

The frames are blue, and the eyes behind them sharp and dark. Her mouth is small and pursed and she smooths a strand of grey hair away from her face as Ralph and Jaime come inside.

Jaime doesn’t pay much attention to her at first. She is too entranced and excited by the size of the library. The desk sits directly in front, to the left the sign says ‘adult books’ and ‘computers’. Jaime glances that way, her mouth open, her breath held. The adult side contains huge wall to ceiling bookshelves, small round tables surrounded by plastic chair and an L-shaped array of desks and computers. She turns right and sees signs for ‘children’ and ‘young adult’. She steps forward.

‘Look like you’ve never seen a library before, girl.’

Jaime jumps in surprise. The woman at the desk had seemed so small and still, Jaime had almost forgotten she was there. She grins and plods up to the counter,

‘Never one so big! It’s amazing in here!’

‘You must be Jaime,’ the librarian says, her voice dry with a slightly sarcastic tone to it. ‘I’ve met your mum a few times now. I’m Miss Spires, the librarian.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ Jaime extends a hand and Eugenie Spires looks at her as if she finds her a little odd, then cautiously takes the hand. Jaime glances at Ralph, wondering if she has maybe gone a little too far, and Ralph shrugs back.

‘Suppose you’ll be needing a library card?’ Miss Spires says, rifling through some forms. ‘Why don’t you fill that out for me? I can’t let you borrow any books until I’ve got your card.’

‘Thank you.’ Jaime picks up the pen pushed her way and begins to fill in the form.

‘Looking for anything particular today?’ Miss Spires asks, her eyes fixing for a moment on Ralph.

‘Me?’ He points to himself. ‘No. Not me. Just showing Jaime around.’

‘Nice to see you’ve made friends already.’ Miss Spires takes the form when Jaime has finished and passes her a small rectangular card. ‘That’s your temporary one. I’ll get you a plastic one made up. Go on then. Have a look around. We’re very proud of our library.’

‘I can see why.’ Jaime smiles and slips the card into her blazer pocket. ‘I’ll have a look around. Thank you.’

Miss Spires nods and does not take her eyes off them as they head to the right side of the building. The children’s side has a separate area cordoned off with brightly coloured low units packed tight with toddler picture books, and several beanbags in primary colours are scattered across striped rugs.

Moving along, the shelves get a little taller and are filled with stories for early readers, followed by middle-grade, then young adult. They line the walls, leading the way back to the desk and the staff room behind it. After young adult come local history and folklore. Jaime’s eyes light up and she raises her eyebrows at Ralph.

He’s pretending to flick through a graphic novel but catches her eye and nods back discreetly. Jaime walks alongside the shelves, pulling out the occasional book, perusing the back cover blurbs with raised eyebrows and then putting it back and the whole time she can feel the librarian’s eyes on her. She looks at Ralph, who is staring at the graphic novel with his eyes a little too wide and a shimmer of sweat on his forehead.

Jaime clears her throat, pulls out a chair and slips into it with a book on her lap. Taking her lead, Ralph plops onto a beanbag and makes a show of trying to decide between the graphic novel and two comic books he has swiped from a shelf.

This is crazy, thinks Jaime, crazy! We should be able to look at whatever books we like and not be judged for it. She feels the pull of the local history and folklore section but cannot bring herself to even look that way. We have to be cautious, she tells herself, we have to assume the book Paddy was hiding was important and we have to assume the committee members are all watching us, like Mayfield is.

‘You might like to read about local history,’ Miss Spires says then, making Jaime jump so hard so drops the book on the floor. She grabs it and looks over her shoulder. Miss Spires is suddenly right behind her, dressed neatly in a knee length pencil skirt of a dark grey material, thick tan tights and flat black shoes with laces. Her blouse is cream and she wears a long, navy-blue cardigan over the top. She is staring intently at Jaime and blinking rapidly. She nods at the local history shelves.

‘If you want to get to know the place,’ she shrugs at Jaime and seems rather disappointed in her.

‘Oh.’ Jaime stands. ‘That’s really good advice, thank you. I didn’t notice. Okay, why not? Could be interesting.’

Miss Spires remains still, hands clasped behind her back. ‘There are some very good ones on the town history – how and when it was founded and so on. There are one or two on local stories, local people, that sort of thing. I know I’m biased having lived here all my life, but our town is a fascinating little place and I think those books are all very good.’

Jaime, nodding and smiling, wanders over to the shelf. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll take a look.’

She scans the shelves, running her index finger along book spines of various thicknesses and heights. She plucks one out –‘‘A Brief History of Black Hare Valley’,’ she reads out loud. ‘Oh, it’s by an L.T Spires. Any relation to you, Miss Spires?’

The librarian is already back at her desk though. Jaime is sure she did not see or hear the woman move.

‘Yes, actually. He was my grandfather. That’s a good place to start.’

Jaime looks down at the book. It’s quite short… She skim reads the introduction, something about the original hill fort being established in the iron age and there being evidence of dwellings going back to Anglo-Saxon times. There is a chapter about Viking invasions and more about the land and dwellings being mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086.

There is further mention of the first buildings and the on-going growth until it was officially founded as the town it is today. Jaime flicks back to the first page to check the publication date, 1878.

‘He started this library,’ Miss Spires announces then. Jaime turns to her but her head remains down, as her pen scratches across a page in front of her. ‘It was just a shed to start with. A small shack for storing and exchanging books, right in this very spot on the high street. I believe there are some early photographs in there.’

Jaime nods then sighs into the pages. She knows they’ve hit a dead end today, plus, it looks like they won’t be getting any peace. She does a final sweep of the shelves in search of any large, old, leather bound books, but there is nothing remotely similar. She tucks the history book under her arm and gestures to Ralph that it’s time to go.

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 Eleven “The Book”

Black Hare Valley: Chapter Nine “Black Woods

~ ChanAtkins ~ 2 Comments

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Black Woods – image is mine

1

The Hare and Hound is warm and cosy. The fire roars in the hearth and the old-timers take up their regular spots around it. In flat caps and weather-beaten coats, they play cards and talk farming, football and the old days.

Twitches of smiles and crinkles of laughter lines appear whenever pregnant Catherine Aster makes her rounds, collecting empty glasses and asking if they need anything else.

At the bar, the impromptu committee meeting has gained two more members. Eugenie Spires often drops into The Hare and Hound after closing the library and Sergeant Aaron Mayfield is off duty and nursing a pint of beer.

While Eugenie bends Vicar Roberts and Neville Hewlett’s ears about who has late fines in the library and who may very well be using it to conduct their extra-marital affair in, Sergeant Mayfield is deep in conversation with Mayor Margaret Sumner.

‘How’s our new one getting on?’

Margaret steals a sly glance over her trim shoulders. Catherine is lowering a tray of drinks onto a table for a trio of women of similar age. Mothers of school-age children enjoying a bit of ‘me-time’ and a gossip, vaguely dressed up in jeans, boots and sparkly tops. Catherine chats to them with an easy confidence.

Margaret turns back to Aaron, speaking softly over the rim of her wine glass. ‘Well, I like her, though I get the feeling she’s not the brightest… But she is lovely and well-meaning. I think she’ll be okay. But time will tell of course. And we have plenty of that.’

‘Hmm.’ Mayfield’s expression is hard to read. He is still brooding over the book he had retrieved from the Finnis boy’s treehouse but he has not shared it with anyone yet. ‘What about the daughter? It’s all right if she’s linked up with the Maxwell boy but I’ve never been keen on the Harrison girl and as for Jesse bloody Archer…’

Margaret gives him an amused and pitying look. ‘Yes, we know Aaron. Change the record please. I hear she’s settled in very well at school. Edward told me earlier that most of her teachers plan to elevate her to the top sets already.’

‘Wow.’ Mayfield looks genuinely impressed. ‘We don’t get a lot of smart ones.’

‘No,’ Margaret agrees, shifting slightly closer. ‘And that has always worked in our favour.’

2

Jesse feels the weight of Black Hare Valley at his heels as he climbs the hill and plods wearily through the crumbled graveyard. Behind him, he feels the bright eyes of the town eagerly watching him, expecting him to fail, to fall. It’s all fake smiles and knives in backs down there. It’s false glitter and fake laughter and he can’t bear any of it.

Up here, it feels different – brutal and honest. Black Woods are dense, hungry and watchful. Douglas Firs and Scots Pines combine to create a black void through which the occasional silver birch stands out like an empty bone. It’s cheerless but truthful. The undergrowth catches at his ankles and the rubble tries to trip him. While the sun eases down on the chattering town, oozing reds and golds across the streets and into windows, up here the sky is black, colourless. Black Wood stands out like an old photograph – like a silhouette, or a memory frozen in time.

There’s no pretence here, he thinks as he climbs, it is what it is and does not hide itself or disguise its intentions. This place has its own rules. The air is colder, thinner; his breath comes in short, nervous bursts. It’s harsh here, like the world has ceased to exist beyond this place, like they’ve all been cut off and set adrift in a frozen and outcasted fragment of time.

Jesse glances at the others and takes a bottle of whisky from his back pocket before walking up to the circle of mushrooms. He grins recklessly as he marches through the middle of it, before spinning to face the rest of the group.

‘What did you do that for?’ Ralph Maxwell is staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Jesse laughs. He doesn’t really know the kid but didn’t have him pegged for a superstitious type.

‘You don’t believe in all that old crap, do you?’ he barks, unscrewing the cap from the stolen whisky as he joins them on the crumbled graves.

‘It doesn’t seem wise to tempt fate,’ shrugs Ralph nervously. He turns to Jaime with his palms turned up. ‘You’re not supposed to break fairy rings.’

‘Or what?’ she asks, looking from him to Jesse.

Jesse snorts. ‘Or you’ll anger the fairies and they’ll put a curse on you.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘God, my mum used to spout all kinds of shit about fairy rings and curses.’ He looks away, lifting the bottle again before murmuring, ‘fucking crazy, she was…’

‘And what the hell is that?’ Willow Harrison is staring at him like he is some kind of freak, when she’s the one practically dressed like a witch. She points at the whisky.

He holds it up with a laugh. ‘It gets cold up here. And spooky.’

‘Can I try some?’ Ralph leans forward.

‘Ralph, you’re thirteen. Your mum will kill you,’ says Willow, her eyes still on Jesse.

Jesse unscrews the cap, drinks a quick mouthful, winces dramatically and passes the bottle to Ralph. ‘You only live once,’ he says to no one.

‘Are you trying to get back on Mayfield’s radar, is that it?’ wonders Jaime, frowning in that expectant and curious way she has. She reminds him of a chubby little owl, her curious mind ticking over behind that sweet and innocent face. She has unrolled a series of taped together sheets on the grass and is sat there looking smart and sharp with a pen in her hand.

Jesse stifles another laugh and pulls out the camera Mayfield gave him earlier to a collective gasp from the others.

‘Is that another one?’ asks Ralph in awe.

‘Yeah. I already got my new mission. Bastard was waiting for me after school.’

Willow looks horrified, her eyes dark and fearful as she tries to accept this new reality – her best friend is missing and the local policeman is a blackmailer.

‘Who is it for?’ she wants to know.

He sighs as he turns it over in his hands. ‘Old Mrs Cotton, you know her?’

‘Everyone knows her,’ replies Willow. ‘She’s like the oldest person in town.’ She looks at Jaime to explain. ‘Iris Cotton lives on the outskirts of town. Right on the border in Black Hare Cottage. The place is a relic, like something out of a museum and she’s no different.’

‘Interesting,’ nods Jaime, taking down notes.

‘She has a grand-daughter,’ Willow goes on. ‘But she lives in town with her son, Nathan, He works in the chemist.’

‘He’s always at the community centre too,’ adds Ralph. ‘I see him when I go to holiday club sometimes. I think he likes helping Mr Hewlett.’

‘Yeah, he does.’ Jesse is smiling. ‘Anyway, I gotta break into there somehow. Told him it’ll take a few days.’

‘And what if you say no?’ Willow leans forward, her brow knitted together. ‘Is it the school thing? Can he hold that over you forever? How did this even start between you two?’

Jesse shrugs and takes back the bottle. Ralph has only sniffed it before recoiling in disgust and changing his mind.

‘Long story. But yeah, that’s the gist. He catches me doing something stupid and I have to do a little job for him to keep quiet.’

‘Jesus,’ murmurs Ralph. ‘What a sicko…’

‘You mentioned it might go back to when your dad was younger?’ says Jaime. ‘Have you ever asked him?’

Jesse shakes his head and smiles briefly at the suggestion. ‘Can’t really talk to my dad, if you know what I mean.’ She nods but Jesse knows she doesn’t understand. ‘He arrests my dad too,’ Jesse goes on, taking another gulp. ‘I mean, fair enough. He is a criminal, no doubt. But he’s got this threat, see, if my dad is gone from home for too long, I’ll have to go into foster care and you know who are all registered as foster carers in this shithole town?’

The baffled expressions on their faces suggest that they have no clue. Jesse laughs at their innocence and feels genuinely jealous that they’ve been sheltered for so long.

‘The Mayor, Vicar Roberts, Mr Bishop, Mr Hewlett,’ he says then pauses before delivering the most brutal blow of all. ‘And Sergeant Mayfield.’ He lifts the bottle to his lips and downs another burning mouthful.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Jaime is staring at him. ‘Are you telling us that creepy bastard could end up fostering you? That’s insane!’

Jesse lowers the bottle. ‘So, I got to do what he says, all the fucking time. Which is why his camera is now in the Finnis family home just like he wanted and why in the next few days I’ve got to find a way to get this one into the Cotton place.’

Jaime is adding notes frantically to the paper. ‘I’ve added the Finnis camera to the timeline,’ she explains, her cheeks flushed. ‘Willow filled us in on what you saw on the computer at the shop, so we’re aware that Mayfield must have persuaded or blackmailed those boys to get the camera back from him. Does that strike anyone as weird?’ She looks around at each of them. ‘I mean, why wouldn’t he just get it himself? He was in the bookshop when we were.’

There’s a silence as each of them consider it. Jesse is the first to give a shrug, dismissing it. It’s not that unexpected in his opinion. It makes sense that the old bastard would be blackmailing idiots like Steven and Dominic too.

‘It’s the way he works,’ he tells Jaime but she looks unsure.

‘And Mayfield doesn’t know that I saw him give Jesse something in the police car?’

Jesse shakes his head. ‘You didn’t mention it in the treehouse. You must have decided to wait until the photos came out before you asked about it.’

Jaime nods in relief and adds the latest camera request to the timeline. Jesse can see an arrow pointing to two words in thick capital letters: PADDY’S BOOK. Yes, he wants to know what the hell that was as well, but there’s no way he can ask Steven and Dominic.

But Willow isn’t ready yet. ‘How many years are we talking, Jesse?’

‘Think I was eleven.’

‘Holy shit.’ Ralph looks up at the darkening sky, shaking his head.

‘Bastard,’ agrees Jaime, writing it down.

‘But why?’ demands Willow. ‘Why is he spying on people in town?’

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Jesse tells them. ‘My best bet? Blackmail.’

She nods, her eyes fierce. ‘Do you think anyone else is involved?’

‘Don’t know. The whole committee are a bunch of creeps, so who knows? Maybe.’

Jaime’s head snaps up. ‘My mum just joined that committee.’

Jesse offers a bitter smile before raising the bottle to his lips again. ‘I’m sure she’s very nice.’

Willow clears her throat. ‘He’s obviously blackmailing people like he is you, Jesse. People always say he became a policeman because his dad was one, but maybe it’s not just that… Anyway, are we going to assume that he was maybe blackmailing Paddy and has something to do with him being missing?’

There is a heavy silence while the four of them mull it over. It’s Jaime who speaks first, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

‘Are you sure Paddy wasn’t acting any differently before he vanished? Scared maybe, or secretive?’

Willow shakes her head instantly, frowning. ‘No. I’ve thought about it and thought about it and if anything, he seemed happier than normal…’

Jesse turns to look at her. ‘Did he?’

She meets his eye but does not answer.

‘This brings us back to the book,’ says Jaime and all eyes fall back on her. ‘You guys saw on the video that after we all left the treehouse, Paddy took out a book none of you knew he had. He looked at it and then hid it again before he left the treehouse.’ Jaime runs the nib of her pen along all the points she has raised. ‘Did you get a look at the book? The size, the colour, anything at all?’

‘Not really,’ says Willow. ‘His back was to the camera and it was only the way his arms were moving that made us think it was a book.’

‘Definitely a book,’ Jesse says firmly. ‘The way his head was turning slightly too, like he was skimming the pages. It was big. Definitely big. Taking up all his lap. Heavy.’

Jaime writes it all down. ‘And now the book is missing too, so unless Paddy took it with him, Sergeant Mayfield must have it. Assuming those boys took it when they took the camera, right?’

3

Ralph feels the urge to hug himself. It’s cold up here on the maze and darker than it should be with the towering trees of Black Wood right behind them. He could do with a decent hug – warm arms wrapped right around him, squeezing him together, but he resists the urge. He doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his new friends.

Friends? He looks at them, wondering. Jesse is still gulping the neat whisky which can’t be a good thing and in truth, makes Ralph feel quite nervous. He still can’t quite let go of the Jesse Archer he has experienced over the years, and he can tell Willow is having the same problem. Every now and then she seems to remember and her voice becomes harder and sharper, reminding Jesse that they are not his friends. This makes Ralph feel sorry for Jesse, and he considers moving to sit on his other side so that he doesn’t look quite so alone.

Ralph glances over his shoulder. He still wants to take them through the woods and show them where he found the footprint but he’s hesitant now. Maybe one mystery is enough to deal with.

‘We need to get that book back.’ Willow is staring right at Jesse when she says it. ‘Can you get your friends to confirm they took it? That would answer one question.’

Jesse makes a face at the suggestion. ‘I’d rather not. And they’re not my friends. Not anymore.’

Willow swaps a look with Ralph and he shrugs back. ‘Okay,’ she goes on. ‘Let’s assume for the moment that they did take it and they gave it to Mayfield along with the camera. That for some reason, he used them to retrieve both things for him. Where might Mayfield have hidden it? Any idea?’

Jesse chews the inside of his mouth. His expression suggests that he knows where this conversation is heading. ‘I dunno.’

‘His house?’ Willow barks a little too loudly, making them all jump.

Jaime is still making notes. ‘The police station?’

‘Both possibilities,’ agrees Ralph. ‘But how the hell would we get it back from either of those places? Won’t he have his own cameras everywhere?’

Jesse nods silently. Willow inches forward. ‘We need a plan. Let’s tackle the station first. Jesse, you know your way around it.’

He gives a slight nod and looks away.

‘He can’t break into a police station,’ says Jaime, looking up from her notes. ‘There’s just no way.’

‘I could take his camera back to him.’ Jesse is frowning now while his gaze is fixed on the bottle in his hands. ‘At the station. I’ll break it or something and if he swaps it there we’ll know he keeps stuff he shouldn’t there. If he heads for home to swap it… well, that would tell us something.’

‘Good idea.’ Willow nods enthusiastically. ‘You’re right. That will give us more information then we can come up with a second plan.’

‘Have you ever been to his house before, Jesse?’ asks Ralph.

Jesse rolls one shoulder in discomfort. ‘Nah, but it’s attached to the station, right? It’s really small. Wouldn’t take long to search.’

‘But we’d have to distract Mayfield somewhere else,’ says Willow, her face crumpled with concentration. ‘And we’d have to somehow disable any cameras…’

‘What about a power cut!’ Ralph shouts suddenly, making them all jump again. He’s so pleased with the idea that has jumped into his head, he’s unable to keep quiet or still. They’re all staring at him and Willow’s mouth slowly drops open as she runs it over in her mind. ‘If we could somehow cause the whole town to have a power cut then we could sneak into his home and no cameras would see us!’

‘Don’t the cameras run on batteries?’ asks Jaime, her nose wrinkled up in thought.

Ralph’s face falls in dismay. ‘Oh. Yeah.’

Jesse hunches forward. ‘No, you’re on the right track, Ralph. The ones he leaves in people’s houses are charged up beforehand but they can’t send that feed anywhere if the whole system is down. See?’

‘So, it could work?’ Willow looks between Ralph and Jesse.

But Jaime is shaking her head. ‘No, because if he has cameras in his house and they’re charged up, he can just attach them to something later and he’ll see what you did.’

Jesse licks his lips. There is something hard and reckless flaring behind his eyes and Ralph wonders if he even cares about getting caught.

‘I’ll know where to look and I’ll take them down. I’ll damage them or something, but guys, I really don’t think he’ll have cameras in his own house. It’s the other cameras we need to worry about, and like I said, they can’t send their information anywhere if the power is out.’

‘But won’t he collect them back later?’ asks Jaime, chewing a nail. ‘If we do this, we’ve really got to be sure there’s no way he gets proof we did it.’

‘I’ll be in his house,’ Jesse says firmly. ‘I’ll get a chance to figure out how he does it. The bigger question is, how are we gonna cause a power cut?’

‘They happen every now and then,’ says Willow, ‘and it’s usually because a tree has fallen on a power line.’

Jesse is nodding. He’s hunched up right over his knees and he’s chewing restlessly on his knuckles while the whisky bottle swings beneath, but he’s nodding. He wants to do this.

‘So, how about we cut a tree down then?’ frowns Jaime. ‘Anyone got any power tools?’

‘My mum has a chainsaw!’ yells Ralph. ‘She uses it to chop wood for people. It’s one of her side-hustles.’ He grins a little sheepishly. ‘She’s working to get us into a little town cottage.’

‘Okay then, it’s possible.’ Willow clasps her knees and stares ahead. ‘It’s doable.’

Jaime exhales, shaking her head. ‘There are a lot of risks,’ she tells them. She glances at Ralph and grimaces. He smiles weakly because he understands how she feels. It’s a workable plan with plenty of holes in it. Ralph shudders when he thinks about them getting caught…

‘When do we start?’ Willow asks but it is Jesse she is looking at.

‘Tomorrow,’ he says without hesitation. ‘First thing.’ He takes out the camera, drops it on the ground and stomps on it. ‘Whoops. Clumsy me!’

Willow breathes out shakily. ‘Okay. Meet us at school after you’ve seen him. Bike shed again?’

He blinks at her. ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow.’

‘Oh shit, yeah. Back of mine then? The alley behind my garden?’

‘Okay. But listen, you know people are gonna start talking. Mayfield already has a bee in his bonnet about me hanging around you guys.’

‘But he can’t stop us being friends,’ Ralph protests. He almost follow this up with, we are friends, aren’t we? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to look as desperate as he feels.

‘It’ll make him suspicious,’ Willow agrees. ‘And we don’t need him watching us constantly.’

‘But he was already watching Paddy,’ Jaime points out.

Jesse shakes his head slowly at her. ‘You don’t want his attention on you, Jaime. Take my word for it. You want him to think you’re all good kids. You don’t ever want to be on his radar, believe me.’ Jesse gets up quickly then, perhaps taking his own advice. He stumbles slightly on broken rubble but corrects himself before he falls, and starts to wobble away from them. ‘He’s not a man, you know,’ he pauses to say over one shoulder. He shakes his head solemnly. ‘He’s not a man. He’s a monster.’

4

They sit in silence, watching Jesse go. He doesn’t head back to town, but staggers instead in a casual manner towards the Quigley Farm.

‘Maybe one of us should go with him,’ says Jaime softly, but she doesn’t move.

Willow gets up and brushes off the back of her cloak. ‘He’ll be okay. He always is.’

Ralph looks at her in alarm. ‘Are you going home too?’

‘We have a plan, don’t we?’ Willow pulls up her hood and moves away. ‘I’m going home to check the whole place for hidden cameras now that we know what to look for. I suggest you two do the same.’

‘No, wait!’ Jaime stands up quickly. ‘If we find any and take them down, he’ll know we’re on to him and he’ll know Jesse told us!’

Willow rolls her eyes but nods reluctantly. ‘Okay, I’ll be discreet, I promise. If I find any I won’t react. You guys coming?’

Jaime nods and starts packing up her bag. Ralph touches her arm. ‘We haven’t checked in the woods yet. You know, for more footprints. If we find any, you could take pictures of them.’

Jaime shoulders her bag with a nod. ‘Okay then, let’s do it.’

They look up to say goodbye to Willow but she has already gone. They can see her dark form scurrying down the hill between the broken gravestones.

Jaime faces Ralph with a bright smile. He smiles back, then they link arms and walk into the woods together. Jaime gasps slightly as the darkness envelopes them. Her temperature drops and her pupils dilate. She feels afraid but also strangely alive. Her senses are in overdrive.

‘It’s so dark in here,’ she whispers as Ralph leads the way.

‘That’s why they call it Black Woods,’ replies Ralph, keeping close to her side. ‘It’s mostly pines and firs and they’ve grown so tall and so close together that not much light can get through. Nothing else can grow here.’

Jaime nods. A carpet of old leaves and thick spongy moss cushions their footfalls. ‘How could you see any footprints in here, Ralph?’

‘There’s a clearing just up ahead. It’s shallow – bit muddy. I think a few trees fell a few years back and made the clearing. There are a lot of rotten trunks and logs and that’s where I found the print.’

They walk on, arms still tightly linked and pressed together. Jaime can hear both the fear and the excitement in Ralph’s voice and she finds it hard to believe that she has only known him a few days.

‘So, you do this a lot?’

He smiles shyly. ‘Yeah, kind of. I like wandering around, exploring stuff. Mum always said I never could sit still for long.’

‘I think we make a good team,’ says Jaime. ‘All of us, I mean. Do you think so too, Ralph? I mean, I know Willow still has a few issues with Jesse…’

‘A lot of people have issues with Jesse,’ nods Ralph with a sigh. ‘But I know what you mean and I think so too. We do make a good team.’

‘It feels right,’ Jaime feels the need to press, feeling her way with the thought in her head, trying out the words as they come to her. ‘When we’re all together, I mean. It sort of… flows? Does that make sense?’ She gives a self-deprecating laugh but Ralph is nodding back.

‘It does make sense, it does! I know exactly what you mean. I felt it too.’

They grin at each other and walk on. Above them the tall trees and thick boughs block out almost all of the light and it feels like night has fallen early. A snapping branch makes them both jump and whirl around in fear. They immediately laugh nervously at their own jumpiness.

‘Shit,’ breathes Ralph. ‘Probably just a deer.’

‘Yeah, probably. How much further?’

Ralph points ahead. ‘You see the clearing?’

Up ahead, the trees thin out just enough to reveal a small muddy clearing. It’s almost a perfect circle with a ring of fallen trees and half-rotten trunks lying like tombstones around the edge. The recent storm has created a few puddles with dead leaves floating on the murky surfaces.

Ralph keeps his arm through hers as they move cautiously through the trees and Jaime is grateful. Ralph has a kind and sensitive energy and she feels safe in his company. He looks strong too, square shoulders and thick legs – she can tell he spends a lot of his time outdoors.

‘How are you gonna borrow a chainsaw without your mum knowing?’ she asks him.

‘Oh, she’ll be cool about it, She taught me how to use it safely. I’ll just say I’ve found a tree down and I’ll fetch her the wood. She’ll find someone to sell it to.’

‘Oh okay. Cool!’

‘Yeah, or sometimes we have bonfires at the caravan park. Everyone comes out of their vans to gather around a fire.’

‘That sounds like a lot of fun.’

‘It is. Oh, here. Look.’ Ralph points to the place where he found the footprint and cast his mould. ‘Someone took my mould but you can still kind of see the shape and size, right?’

Jaime winds her camera on and crouches, peering intently at the soil. She can definitely see the vague shape of a paw although the rain and wind has moved the earth and eroded the definition. She touches it gently, trying to imagine a dog’s paw, with five pads, one large, four small under the toes.

‘Canine, I reckon.’ She snaps a photo. ‘It’s huge. It’s a shame half of it is so smudged and unclear. Did you find any more?’

He shakes his head sadly. ‘Nope, just this one here. But it’s not the first time I’ve found weird prints or claw marks!’

Jaime lowers the camera. ‘Claw marks?’

‘Yeah, on trees but really high up.’

Jaime takes a few more pictures then straightens up. ‘This town just gets weirder and weirder.’

Ralph faces her with a big bright smile. ‘You still like it though, right?’

She looks around at the towering trees and the impenetrable darkness between them. Another branch snaps close by and they link arms again. Staring at the trees, her eyes start to play tricks on her. She swears she can see faces in the thickened skin of the ancient trees. She swears she can hear them breathing.

‘I’m not so sure,’ she mumbles, tightening her grip on Ralph’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’

5

Back in town, the sunset has illuminated every shop window and as Willow feels the streets below her feet again, she breathes out a steady stream of relief. People are milling around, heading home, closing up shops and calling children in for their dinner. She stops outside Black Hare Gifts and Curios and looks back at the hills. She can see the gentle sweeps of green, the slopes of the old maze and looming over everything, the dark stalks of watchful Black Hare Wood. She shivers and hopes the others have gone home too.

‘Just in time!’ her mother calls out from behind the till as Willow slips inside the shop. ‘Put the closed sign up, please!’

A song she knows her mother likes is playing cheerfully on the radio behind the counter, and Willow hears her humming along to Breakfast At Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something as she locks the door and flips the open sign over to closed. She stands for a minute, her gaze sweeping up and down the narrow aisles of the gift shop. It’s tiny, made tinier by colourful bookshelves of tourist-bait and several small tables of themed displays. Her mum appears, still humming, black hair swept into a side ponytail, and the spiderweb tattoo on her neck visible.

‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yep, fine.’ But Willow is not fine. As she heads for the door at the back her eyes scan everything, trailing up and down shelves and fixtures, searching for a blinking, spying eye.

‘Dad’s cooking vegetarian meatballs and spaghetti.’

‘Cool.’ Willow pauses in the doorway. ‘Mum. Any news on Paddy?’

Her mum drifts over to her, biting her lower lip and tilting her head in pity. She puts her hand on Willow’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

‘No sweetie, I’m sorry. I’m not sure what they’ll do next. The mayor was saying they ought to use the community hall for a meeting and the vicar wants to hold a vigil at the church.’

Willow pulls away in disgust. ‘Like any of that will do anything! What about more police, Mum? Aren’t they going to call in some proper detectives?’

‘I expect so.’ But her mum looks uncertain. ‘Darling, are you absolutely sure he didn’t say anything? It does look most likely that he ran away and probably planned it too. There would have been signs of a struggle if it had been anything else.’

She shakes her head, eyes down. ‘No. He wouldn’t!’

‘I find it hard to believe too. He had a lovely life. He was a happy boy.’

‘Maybe he sleepwalked and got lost. The land goes on forever outside of town. How far did they search?’

‘A long time, I guess. They’ll keep searching too, in every direction, I promise.’

But Willow doesn’t believe it. She’s not sure exactly what she can believe in anymore. It occurs to her then to tell her mother about Mayfield blackmailing Jesse Archer but she remembers the cameras and stops herself.

‘I’ll go on up,’ she tells her mum and turns away. ‘I’m tired.’

‘All right, sweetheart. I love you, you know.’

‘I know. Love you too.’

As she walks away she hears her mother start humming again and this time she does not miss the sadness in it.

6

When Jesse drinks he understands why his father does. He doesn’t often get the chance but earlier he took advantage of his drunken father falling into the flat with a half-consumed bottle of whisky in his hands. It had been too great a temptation to ignore.

Recklessness, a friend. Not giving a shit and laughing about it, a rare luxury. It will all end soon enough, one way or another, so Jesse makes the most of it while he can. As he wanders aimlessly around the edge of the Quigley Farm, he feels a blossoming sorrow that the others didn’t join him for a drink. It would have been more fun, he thinks now, to have enjoyed the stolen drink together as a group.

They are a group, he supposes, in a fashion. A fragile one. A splintered one. The centre is missing. Paddy Finnis is missing. His foot strikes a fallen log and he’s sent sprawling. Dewy grass soaks his clothes and he rolls on his back and laughs at the sky. Where are you, Paddy Finnis? Where are you? Just as I was getting to know you, you had to go and disappear on me…

The sky is darker here; the clouds sombre grey, navy blue, mottled bruises sailing swiftly along. It’s a small world, he thinks as tears sting his eyes, a very small world.

And he has a job to do. It’s important, he remembers.

Jesse sits up, muttering and scolding himself. He drinks another mouthful of the vile drink and pushes himself back up to his feet. He’ll go home. Sleep it off. And in the morning, with a clear head, he will go willingly to the lion’s den. He has to. For Paddy.

Jesse stumbles down from the hills and staggers along, one foot in front of the other until he discovers tarmac again under his boots. He pauses and leans over to inspect it. For a moment, he has no idea where he is and as he closes his eyes and feels the air cooling his skin he thinks how wonderful it would be to wake up somewhere else.

Then, he opens his eyes and sees the back of the police station. The tiny fire station to one side, Mayfield’s compact stone house to the other. They make a square grey unit of ancient bricks and grey tiles. Jesse feels an ugly rage wash over him when he thinks about Paddy – gone, lost – it isn’t right, it isn’t fair, and he just knows, he feels it like a dirty cancer clawing through his very bones, that Mayfield is involved.

Without thinking, Jesse launches the empty whisky bottle at the policeman’s house and listens in exhilaration, pride and fear as the glass smashes against the brickwork and tinkling sounds ran down on the path below.

Jesse hears something behind him. A snap, a crack, a movement in the grass. He gasps and whirls around but all he can see is darkness. The light has faded fast up on the hills. The mottled clouds have merged into almost solid blackness. He freezes. His hairs stand on end and his scalp crawls. He steps back. There is a noise. A low, rumbling noise. His rational mind says car, lorry, motorbike, thunder, while his accelerated heartbeat and goose-pimpled flesh say something else.

Run.

Jesse steps back again, staggers, almost falls. There is another noise – footfalls, fast, heavy. Coming his way. His back meets the wall behind and he fumbles his way around the stark, soulless house until he is out on Station Road. He stops under a streetlight and breathes. His heart is a panicked wild beast in his chest thrumming to get out.

How did it get so dark so quick?

Even the town appears drenched in a dark cloud. Jesse twitches – he’s sure he can hear something else breathing…. His own breath stops – his heart a block of ice. Somehow, his feet edge forward onto the road. He flees. Runs at speed down the road to the junction with Black Hare Road. In the brief moment that Jesse slows to catch his breath, he hears the rumbling noise again and he pictures sharp teeth and gnashing jaws. He emits a gasp of a scream and runs full pelt up Black Hare Road.

He doesn’t stop, turning left onto Fort Lane, which is even darker, almost tunnel-like as he races past dimly lit cottages and hares out onto High Street. He couldn’t stop now if he tried. He is in full flight mode, feels like prey. He won’t stop running until he is able to go to ground. From High Street, Jesse belts down Taylor Close then forks off onto Taylor Drive. His block of flats looms behind low cloud. A cold mist is snapping at his ankles as he hurls himself towards the doors, but he can still hear those footfalls, still hear it breathing and licking its lips.

Jesse slams into the doors and flings them wide. Breathless with fear, in a frenzy of blind panic, Jesse tears up the stairs and races down the corridor to home. The door is already opens and he falls inside; blessed home, he made it, it’s gone, he outran it. Then his father is there, looming over him swaying drunkenly and smoking a cigarette. He hauls Jesse to his feet and begins to drag him through the flat.

‘Steal from me!’ he is yelling as he marches. ‘Fucking steal from me!’

Jesse falls, his knees hitting the floor, but he is dragged along, his head and limbs crashing into furniture and walls. His father slides open the balcony door and deposits him with a kick onto the balcony, where bags of rubbish fester and broken glass litters the floor.

‘Thieving little bastard!’

His father slams the door and turns the key. Jesse leans back on the grimy glass and drops his head into his hands. He thinks of Paddy and weeps.

7

Jesse doesn’t expect to sleep but somehow he does, and he’s woken the next morning when Billy slides the door open and he topples into the kitchen.

‘Sorry, mate!’

Jesse uses the wall to push himself up. He looks at his palm and picks a shard of glass out of it. Wyatt is stirring something in a huge pot on the oven.

‘Hare and vegetable soup,’ he announces. ‘Hang around. It’ll be ready soon.’

‘No, I’ve got somewhere to be.’ Jesse runs a hand through his hair and looks around the flat. ‘Dad out?’

‘Asleep,’ says Billy. ‘Here.’ He digs into his pocket and passes Jesse a five pound note. ‘Get something to eat.’

Jesse nods in thanks and heads to their bedroom. His brothers are terrible most of the time but they’ve done more to raise him than his father and for that he is grateful. Jesse finds some relatively clean clothes and changes into them. His head is thumping from the whisky and his nerves remain shredded from the running. He remembers the running – the fear, the chase – but now he thinks, did it really happen? Was I just drunk?

He pushes it aside and goes into the bathroom for a splash of water and a spray of deodorant. He can’t dwindle on what may or may not have chased him when he was drunk. He has to take the broken camera to Mayfield and get on with the plan. He can’t let them down. He can’t let Paddy down.

Jesse leaves the flat with his school bag, the five pound note and the smashed camera. He strides through the streets and out onto High Street which is just starting to wake up. He pushes open the door to Milly’s Café but she’s faster than him, and in two strides is across the floor and blocking his way.

‘I don’t think so, young man! Not after last time.’

‘A bacon roll?’ he tries to ask, pushing the five pound note through the door.

She snatches it, scowling. ‘You’ll get what you’re given!’

Behind her he can see Steven and Dominic sat with some girls from school. They are all watching him and smirking in amusement. Milly slams the door on him.

Jesse leans against the wall, hands in pockets. He glares to the left and sees Willow lugging the gift shop sign out onto the pavement. Her hair is loose and hanging in her face and he doesn’t think she’s going to see him, until suddenly she does, and, checking over her shoulder she hurries over to him.

‘On way?’

‘Yep. Just grabbing breakfast first.’

She nods. ‘I’m going to speak to Mr Bishop on Monday morning and ask if the school kids can do our own search. As volunteers after school, in a different direction. What do you think?’

In his heart, Jesse knows it’s probably pointless. But he forces a smile for her earnest face and nods.

‘Good. I’m up for that.’

‘Good luck,’ she tells him and scuttles back to her shop.

The café door is wrenched open beside him and Milly shoves a white paper bag at him.

‘Do I get change?’

‘No. I’m keeping it for damages.’ She slams the door.

‘Oh hell.’ He walks away, peering into the bag. At least she gave him what he asked for. A white bap filled with greasy bacon and brown sauce. He can’t recall the last time he ate and digs into it ferociously.

Chewing on bacon and bread, Jesse strolls quickly down the alley behind the chemist. He feels sick by the time he reaches Station Road but he forces himself to eat every last bite of the bacon roll because he doesn’t much fancy hare soup later.

Swallowing the last lumpy mouthful, Jesse makes himself move by thinking about Paddy Finnis – missing, lost, taken – he takes deep, long breaths to steady his nerves and walks up to Sergeant Mayfield’s house.

He raps on the door but can hear a sweeping sound around the back. Trembling now, Jesse takes another deep breath and walks around to the back of the house. Sergeant Mayfield, dressed in uniform but minus his hat, is using a wooden broom to sweep up the broken glass of the whisky bottle. He stops when he sees Jesse and a faint look of surprise passes over his features before the lines in his face harden and set.

‘Yes, it was me.’ Jesse goes to him, head down and takes the broom. He starts sweeping the glass into a pile by the open back door while Mayfield looks on.

After a moment, he leans against the wall and lights a cigarette. ‘Following in your old man’s footsteps, eh?’

Jesse raises his eyebrows but doesn’t make eye contact. ‘I guess so, as predicted.’

‘What a shame,’ Mayfield sighs but there is mirth and malice in his tone. ‘Still, it’s to be expected. Though obviously you make your own choices, Jesse. You decide to drink whisky and smash bottles. No one makes you.’

Jesse resists the urge to roll his eyes. He remembers what Jaime said about asking his father whether there was bad blood between he and Mayfield going back years. Jesse knows that his entire family despise the sergeant, but he also knows they hate all police officers. Is the hatred simple and predictable or does it stem from something more specific?

He risks a look at Mayfield, who is staring right at him. ‘I guess my dad was a real pain in your arse back in the day?’ 

Mayfield grunts. ‘He was. Just like you.’

‘What kinds of stuff did he get up to?’

‘Ask him. Oh that’s right, sorry, you can’t, can you? He’s too drunk to stand most of the time, let alone talk.’

Jesse lets it go. He doesn’t want to push it. He sweeps the glass into a neat pile then Mayfield hands him a dustpan and brush and a plastic bag. Silently, Jesse completes the task and bags up the rubbish. He places it between his feet and pulls out the broken camera.

‘I came because of this as well.’

Mayfield jerks forward, face darkening. ‘What the hell did you do to it?’

‘Dropped it and trod on it last night. Sorry.’ Jesse hands it over and stares down at the bag of broken glass. ‘I need a new one,’ he says after a moment, and risks a look at Mayfield.

Mayfield folds one hand over the camera and uses his other to direct Jesse towards the wall. His back hits the brickwork and he stares up at Mayfield’s reddening face with alarm.

‘You useless little shit, you ought to be more careful! These things are expensive, you know!’

‘I’m sorry. It was an accident. I’ll pay you back.’

Mayfield runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth and nods. ‘Too bloody right you will. And you better get your act together, Archer.’ He pulls out his baton and swings it around one finger, smiling when Jesse flinches. ‘Getting a bit cocky, aren’t you? Rolling around the streets at night drunk and disorderly. I ought to take you in. It’s one thing after another. You’re utterly feral, you know that?’

Jesse blinks, his breath hitched in his chest, his legs like jelly. Mayfield swings the baton again and then pushes the length of it into Jesse’s throat.

‘I’m sick of the sight of you, boy. It should have been you who went missing, not that nice Finnis boy. That’s what everyone is thinking, you know. Why is scum like Jesse Archer still mucking around causing trouble in our town when a nice kid like Finnis is missing?’

He drops the baton and Jesse takes a huge breath, back pressed into the wall, eyes wide with terror. Mayfield steps back, pointing at him.

‘Stay there. Do not move a fucking muscle.’

Mayfield goes into the house, leaving the door ajar behind him. Jesse closes his eyes, counts to three, tells himself it’s for Paddy, it’s for Paddy… then he moves from the wall and peers through the open back door.

He sees a small, neat kitchen. An Aga oven with a copper kettle sat on top. A small white fridge in the corner. A larder. Some shelves stacked neatly with white crockery. The sink is below the window, spotless and shiny. A square wooden table sits against the wall with one chair. A newspaper, an ashtray, an empty fruit bowl and a small radio are on it. Jesse steps inside, barely breathing.

The doorway leads into a small warm lounge. Exposed brickwork and a fireplace surrounded by cut logs. One red sofa and a rectangular blue and cream rug. There is a small bookshelf and two pot plants on the windowsill. The front door opens out onto the street. The station cottage has no garden and he supposes a man like Mayfield has no need for one.

Upstairs then. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. Perhaps a loft. He hears Mayfield stomping back down and ducks back outside to place himself against the wall again.

Mayfield barges out and shoves a new camera into his hands. ‘Do it soon,’ he commands. ‘Do it well. I’m running out of patience with you, Archer.’ He snaps one finger. ‘Make yourself useful to me, or what’s the point in you, eh?’

8

Willow, Jaime and Ralph gather nervously in the overgrown alley at the end of Willow’s garden. They huddle together, arms crossed, eyes darting around for any sign of Jesse Archer.

‘Has anyone seen him yet today?’ Ralph wonders, gripping the straps of his backpack. ‘Because I haven’t.’

‘Me either.’ Jaime shakes her head. ‘I hope it went okay with the sergeant.’

‘I saw him this morning outside the café,’ shrugs Willow. ‘He seemed okay. Are any of you coming on the search later?’

They both turn their grave eyes upon her and nod solemnly.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Yep, definitely.’

‘I’ve got an appointment with the pastoral guy on Monday,’ Jaime adds then, frowning a little. ‘Mr Hewlett? At lunchtime. Anyone else?’

‘Nope,’ says Ralph. ‘But my mum wants me to go to that church vigil thing whenever that is.’

‘Feels like they’re checking up on us,’ shivers Willow. She almost smiles when she realises how like Jesse she sounds. She remembers what he said about Mayfield – he’s not a man, he’s a monster, and she shudders. Could the same be said about any of the others? Or does Mayfield work alone?

‘Here he is,’ sighs Ralph, gesturing behind Willow.

She looks over her shoulder and spots Jesse stomping down the alley, hands jammed into pockets, head down.

When he squeezes in with them they all hold their breath – awaiting news, information and instruction. Do they have a plan or don’t they?

 ‘He keeps the cameras in his house.’ Jesse wastes no time in getting down to business. ‘He made me stay outside the back door but I sneaked a look around when he was upstairs. It’s a small house. I reckon two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.’

Willow exhales slowly, her eyes on Jesse. ‘So, it would make sense for him to store the book there if he has it?’

Jesse nods, his hands still in his pockets. ‘I reckon. It could be a dead end but yeah, I say search his house first.’

‘I really hope it is in the house,’ says Jaime. ‘Because the station will be much harder to search and it’ll mean we have to do the power cut thing twice.’

Willow bites her lip. She can see the fear on Jaime and Ralph’s faces and she feels for them. But they can’t back out now – they have to find that book. It’s the only clue they have.

‘Has anyone asked his dad yet?’ says Jesse. ‘About the book, I mean.’

Ralphs’s eyes light up. ‘He might have it!’

Jesse smiles slightly, shaking his head. ‘Mr Finnis wasn’t on that film, Ralph, only Paddy and Steven and Dominic were, so the chances are slim.’

‘I meant, ask if he saw Paddy with it or knows what it was called.’

Jaime nods enthusiastically. ‘You’re so right. There might even be another copy in the library or something. Maybe someone gave it to the bookshop and Paddy’s dad let him have it or something.’

Willow turns to Jesse. ‘Okay, plan on hold. We do not arrange the power cut or the break in until we’ve checked this out. You’re off the hook for a bit.’

To this, a half-grin pulls at his lips and Willow is disarmed for just a moment, having forgotten what his face looked like with a smile on it.

‘Not exactly. I’ve still got to break into Iris Cotton’s place.’

They all nod and fall silent.

‘I’ll go to the bookshop after the search,’ Willow sighs eventually. ‘It’ll be something to rule out, anyway. When shall we meet again? We’ll need to swap notes.’

They look at each other; each trying and failing to come up with a secure and secret location unlikely to have cameras installed.

Suddenly, Jesse brightens. ‘The ruins!’

Willow and Ralph nod automatically. ‘Haven’t been there in ages,’ says Ralph. ‘Last time I did, you and your friends chased me away.’

‘Last time I did, your brothers asked me for a shag,’ Willow adds dryly.

Jesse rocks back on his heels, grinning. Willow fights a smile and loses. It is nice to see him more relaxed.

‘What can I say? I am a no-good punk who hangs around with other no-good punks.’

‘Until now,’ Jaime corrects him and then blushes and looks away.

Willow clears her throat. ‘So, it’s safe there? A no-go area for anyone else and no cameras?’

‘Long as Steven and Dominic aren’t there, should be okay.’

‘Where is it?’ asks Jaime, eyes still averted. ‘What is it?’

‘Ancient ruins up on Rowan’s Hill.’ Ralph points to the opposite side of the valley.

‘Oh, wow. I haven’t explored that side yet.’

‘It’s just old ruins, not much else but there’s shelter and definitely no cameras.’ Jesse assures them all. ‘So, what time shall we meet there?’

Willow thinks fast. ‘Search is until 4pm. I’ll go into the bookshop straight after, so what about 5-ish?’

They all nod.

‘5-ish, it is,’ says Jesse, his grin finally fading. ‘Man, I really do hope Paddy’s dad knows something about that book. I’m shit scared to mess with Mayfield’s house and I’m not ashamed to admit it.’

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 Ten “The Search”

The May Queen, Hill Forts, Fairy Circles, Leylines, Holloways and the Moongazing Hare

~ ChanAtkins ~ Leave a comment

Research for my latest novel has sent me down some divine British folklore rabbit holes.

(This article was originally published on Medium.)

I’m not normally a huge fan of research. Most of my novels have been set in times and locations that don’t require me to do a lot, and even then, if I do need to research something, I tend to leave a question mark there to remind me to do it later, while I get on with writing the thing.

However, my attitude towards novel research has changed for the better with my current work-in-progress, a folk horror story set in 1996, which will have companion books set in 1966 and 2026. On the very first draft (where I didn’t really know what I was doing), I ended up with the bare bones of a story, and possibilities for more in-depth plot-lines and character development. I didn’t do any research for the first draft, but I knew for the subsequent drafts I’d have to. And it’s been so much fun! I’ve had to look up a real range of interesting things, from which telescopes and cameras were popular in 1996, to 90s fashions and music (not too much of a problem, as I was a teenager in the 90s) to what sort of CCTV systems existed back then.

 This was just the start. As my folk horror story developed, I found myself going down some delightful British rabbit holes as I researched things I wanted to include in my story. It’s essentially a story about a strange little town with an ancient evil under the surface, and the plot is kicked off when a local boy goes missing.

These are some of the things I’ve had the pleasure of researching so far:

The Hare — I’ve always been fascinated by hares. I’m quite literally obsessed with them. For years and years I dreamed of seeing a wild one and in my youth had to be satisfied with keeping rabbits as pets, which was almost as good. In recent years I’ve seen hares in the wild and every single time it is a breathless magical experience for me. My son’s school is rural and on the journey there and back, down twisty country lanes, we often stop to watch hares running in the fields. Recently we spotted one lying low, and we stopped the car to watch. It knew we were watching and eventually got slowly up and loped away. I savoured every second of watching that huge, strong, almost deer-like body hop away. Another time we had to stop the car as another huge one was plodding casually up the lane in front of us. My son rolled his eyes at my over-enthusiastic reaction, ‘Oh my God, it’s a hare! It’s a hare! It’s a bloody hare right there!’ The hares in that area are giants, I swear. One time I thought it was a dog I’d spotted in a field but when I slowed down to check if it was all right or lost, I realised it was lupine in nature and had the pure joy of watching it dash away.

When I first created my current WIP, Black Hare Valley, it was just a vague idea about a folk horror story, an ancient evil, a plucky group of misfit teens and a strange little town I wanted to be old-fashioned in the most British of ways. Me and my son created it together, rolling out a huge piece of paper to create the map of the town. A few years later I started writing the story and always knew the town would be called Black Hare Valley.

Image by Artur Pawlak from Pixabay

But back to hares. There is so much folklore surrounding them, it only adds to their beauty and mystique. The moongazing hare has been symbol of growth, rebirth and fertility, as well as being associated with madness and witchcraft. In many cultures seeing a hare is meant to be good luck and in just as many, it is seen to be bad luck. There was an old superstition that witches could shape shift into hares, as often hares were seen running from flames. In truth, they often waited until the very last minute to break free from the traditional burning of stubble in fields. In many cultures the hare is considered a sacred animal who symbolises our relationship with the land.

Iron Age Hill Forts — Badbury Rings and Maiden Castle in Dorset are two favourites of mine but there are many of these ancient monuments across the British Isles. What were once defended settlements set into sweeping hills and reinforced with earthworks, stone ramparts, defensive walls and external ditches, are now intriguing and mysterious places to visit. I always feel strangely connected to both the past and the earth itself in these places. I was inspired by a trip to Badbury Rings to make Black Hare Valley a town built out of an iron age hill fort. Hill fort settlements could see their enemies from a great distance and this is a theme weaved into my story, especially concerning the history and founding of the town.

Holloways —Holloways are just as fascinating!I’d been keen to visit the infamous Hell Lane in Dorset for years and a couple of summers ago we took the kids there. I absolutely loved it and again I felt so close to the past and the earth there. Holloways are ancient paths criss-crossing the country, possibly markers of old trade routes. The paths themselves have become so deeply trodden by millions of feet, hooves and wagon wheels over centuries, that they are now almost tunnel-like, with the roots of trees visible on either side. At Hell Lane in particular you feel like you are about to descend underground as the trees shade you from above and the path leads you ever deeper. There are a fascinating array of carvings and faces on the clay walls too. I knew Black Hare Valley had to have its own Holloway!

Hell Lane, in Dorset. Photo is mine.

Fairy Circles — I only researched these recently when I decided that Black Hare Valley will be set in 1996 and that it definitely needs a prequel set in 1966, which will see my group of teens parents go through an equally strange and dangerous ordeal in the town. One of the 1966 kids is described as being ‘away with the fairies’ and I decided to play into this a bit more in the 1996 story, as this character as an adult has been missing for a long time. I simply added a fairy circle to a scene and had one character stomp through it while another declares it to be bad luck, and he retorts that his mother used to believe in such rubbish. Fairy circles are naturally occurring circles of mushrooms, often found in forests and grassy areas. Across the world, fairy circles or rings were often associated with folklore and myth and seen as dangerous places. It was said to evoke a curse or bad luck if you crossed one.

Ley lines — ley lines are also mentioned in Black Hare Valley, as I needed a central spot in one of my locations that would provide an intense amount of energy and a feeling of being held in place. I researched ley lines, which I only vaguely understood, and it turns out some people believe in them and some don’t. Essentially, they are believed to be straight lines between prominent landmarks, prehistoric sites and historic structures. Believers assert that ‘earth energies’ run along these lines but there is no scientific evidence to support this, and instead it is a matter of faith.

The May Queen — May Day, The May Queen and other spring celebrations and traditions will be more fully explored in my prequel set in 1966, but as I lay the clues for this in the 1996 book, I’ve had to research them now. One of my 1996 characters discovers that his troubled mother who ran away, had a sister who went missing in 1966, much in the same way a friend of his has gone missing in 1996. In scouring old photos from their parents, the group of friends discover that the missing girl was crowned the May Queen in the spring of 1966. I had great fun researching this and looking at old photos. The May Day celebrations marked the beginning of summer and small towns and villages across Britain, and indeed Europe, would celebrate by choosing a young girl to be the May Queen. She would be decked out in white with a crown of wild flowers and would be given a throne to sit upon. Villagers would also dance around a Maypole, weave floral baskets and ‘bring in the May’ by gathering wild flowers and branches. Going back even further, it is reported that wild hares were often part of the tradition and would be released from cages as part of the celebration. 

Researching books can be a lot of fun and Black Hare Valley is providing me with unique opportunities to google things and learn more. I have now started writing a rough draft of the book set in 1966 and have already had fun researching the clothes, music, and food popular at the time!