So instead of turning back to Main Street, I headed up the wet, muddy path towards the old, decaying fortress.
***
Little Forest Castle was built in the Norman period by Henry de Beauchamp and had been home to many Lords and noblemen since then. It now belonged to the National Trust, whom my dad worked for.
The castle had been the target of extensive repairs and rebuilds over the years, and the ruins that remained were a sorry shell of its former self. I knew all this because it had been embedded in my brain by my dad pretty much since I was born.
Still, on a night like tonight, set against the black sky with nothing but the moonlight shining on its jagged remains, it was a pretty imposing sight.
The location of the castle also added to its powerful presence; it was situated on a prominent vantage point, giving a rather breathtaking view of the surrounding area. Its position on top of the hill set it apart from the surrounding grass and woodland, and I imagined it would stand proudly on that mound for centuries more to come, even if it did have to rely on constant rebuilds by loyal locals.
The adjacent forest was officially part of the Great Specton Woods, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty that ran from the traditional town of Great Specton through Willowton, Durwich, Renfield and Little Forest, but due to our own village’s name, the area nearest us was often referred to as ‘the forest’ or even just ‘the woods’. You’d occasionally hear some of the older residents referring to the Great Specton Woods or the Great Woods, but that was getting rarer these days.
The woods were a beautiful place and I always thought the endless mass of trees added a little hint of magic to the area. Not that I could really appreciate it at the moment.
I sat down on one of the old wooden benches and stared at the large stone structure for a while, trying to organise my conflicting thoughts. My mind was torn between images of Emma in the bathroom, Emma outside The Pit, Emma strewn on the ground in the woods, and Veronica. Veronica throwing glasses at me.
I wondered exactly where Emma’s body had been found. Thinking back to what my dad had said about the police, it couldn’t have been far from the castle if they’d been hanging around the Tourist Centre all morning.
I cast my gaze over to the thick veil of darkness on the other side of the grassy area. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the shadows, and when they did, I could only make out the vague outlines of the nearest trees. I thought back to Rick Wood and his bizarre threat, and to my dad and his odd suggestion that maybe I should stay away from Veronica. I had a fleeting thought that maybe it was all linked; maybe Veronica had something to do with Emma and she couldn’t bear to tell me.
I shook my head, laughing to myself in the darkness. The thought that Veronica could be involved in someone’s death was the most idiotic idea to ever pop into my head. And anyway, I’d spent most of that night drinking and stalking Connor with her.
I got my phone out of my pocket to try and distract myself.
No messages.
I decided to send V a text (I was too scared to try phoning her, which in itself was ridiculous), and I quickly typed out “Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry” before pressing send.
I stayed there for a few more minutes, staring at the castle and waiting for a reply that I knew would never come. Just then, a strong gust of wind suddenly whipped round my face and I realised how cold I was; my muddled thoughts had obviously taken precedence in my brain, leaving no room for feelings about the weather.
I put my phone back in my jacket and turned to go home.
***
I could see the lights coming from my kitchen window as I got to the garden gate, and I couldn’t wait to be inside in the warm, despite the bombardment of questions I’d surely get from my mum. And my dad - he’d probably have come back home while I was wasting time at the castle.
I was starving as well, having skipped the meal I’d planned on having at the Diner, and I couldn’t wait to sit down and eat.
I shut the creaky gate behind me and headed up the path towards the front door. I was only about halfway when I started hearing angry voices coming from within.
I instinctively ducked down behind one of the apple trees in the garden; it wasn’t much of a cover but in the darkness I didn’t think anyone would see me. I tried to concentrate on the sounds coming from the house, but the persistent wind was making it increasingly difficult to hear anything. From my position crouched on the ground, I could still see the light glowing from the large kitchen window but I couldn’t see inside.
My right leg was beginning to cramp up and I was about to move when I heard a voice shout, “You have to tell her!”
It was Veronica’s voice.
I froze. She was in there arguing with my parents? Was she mad at my entire family now? I thought back to my dad’s reaction when I told him about V and a shiver ran down my entire body. Something here was wrong. Very wrong.
I tried to separate the tangle of voices I could hear coming from inside to see if I could discern any other words or phrases, but everyone seemed to be talking at once. Shouting at once.
I eventually heard one screeched sentence right before Veronica stormed out the door, slammed it shut behind her and rushed towards the gate, too distraught to notice me crouching silently on the wet ground.
I stared after her in shock as she disappeared into the darkness, her last words ringing in my ears: “You’ve ruined my life! Don’t ruin hers too!”
***
After a few minutes of being deep in thought, I realised my right leg had gone numb and I stood up, shaking it to try and make it come back to life. It had been deadly silent in the house since Veronica left and I wondered if my parents had gone upstairs.
I walked slowly towards the front door and put my key in the lock, and as I turned it, I listened for any sounds coming from the kitchen; there was nothing.
I let myself in, and when I walked into the kitchen I was surprised to see them both sitting at the table in silence. My mum looked up as I entered, immediately plastering a big, fake smile onto her tired-looking face.
My mum had the same mousy brown hair as my natural colour and I’d often been told I was the spitting image of her, but looking at her now, I sincerely hoped I wasn’t. Her usually long, wavy hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she didn’t have on her usual layers of make-up. She was wearing an old white t-shirt with a coffee stain down the front, and she had bags under her eyes to match my dad’s.
It was as if something had aged them both in the last twenty-four hours, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about.
“Beth! Where’ve you been? We were worried.”
I studied her face then looked at my dad, who was trying just as hard to look happy but succeeding even less.
Staring directly into his eyes, I replied with a meaningful, “I was just looking for Veronica, have you seen her?”
I saw them both visibly stiffen at her name but neither of them said anything. I waited for their response. My mum stood up and crossed over to the kettle, turning her back to me. “No we haven’t… she’ll be at the Diner, won’t she?”
There it was: the blatant lie that I was dreading and yet somehow expecting.
“She was there earlier, didn’t Dad fill you in on what happened?”
He smiled sheepishly at me while my mum laughed it off. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Darling. She was probably having a bad day at work.”
“Did he also tell you she tried to kill me?”
My mum laughed again. “Oh come on, dear. Stop being so dramatic. Throwing a couple of glasses hardly amounts to a murder attempt.”
I wondered if she’d be saying that if my dad had suddenly stood up and smashed three large tumblers over her head.
I let the silence grow as I tried to decipher what was going on. Had I woken up this morning in some kind of parallel universe? One fuelled by too many vodkas from the night before? If this were a normal day in my normal house, my dad would
be methodically talking through my problem with me while my mum hovered around handing out comforting words and cups of tea. And they definitely wouldn’t be acting so normal about the glass thing; at the moment they were just sweeping it under the rug as if it was a tiny insignificant detail of our fight.
No one had yet pierced the deadly quiet that was hanging over our country kitchen and I wondered if I should probe any further; somehow I didn’t think they were going to tell me anything. “So, you haven’t seen her?”
They book shook their heads in unison, identical looks of confusion and guilt crossing their faces.
I was suddenly furious with them. This was turning into one of the worst days of my life and all they could do was sit there, smiling idiotically, pretending everything was fine. My mum hadn’t even mentioned Emma, which should have been the first thing out of her mouth; it was the number one topic of conversation in Little Forest that night, probably in Renfield and Durwich too.
I took one last look at their lying faces and stormed upstairs to my room.
I wasn’t hungry anymore.
I felt sick to my stomach.
Chapter Three
The next morning, after very little sleep, I was sitting in bed with Keaton on my lap, trying to think. I kept getting distracted by his loud purring but it didn’t bother me; at least someone was still being my friend. I stroked his straggly black fur and he purred even louder, sticking his little pink tongue out between his teeth. He looked so funny it made me laugh, and the sudden noise in my quiet room sounded completely out of place.
I let my smile fall away. In less than twenty-four hours I’d found out a work colleague was dead, I’d seemingly lost the friendship of the one person I could always rely on, and on top of that, even my parents were lying to me. Fun times.
I thought about calling Rach but I knew she wouldn’t be able to shed any light on Veronica’s behaviour; she only really knew V through me and they never hung out together without me.
Grabbing my laptop from off the floor and moving the cat (much to Keaton’s disgust), I put the computer on my lap and logged on. Despite seeing each other pretty much every day, Veronica and I still talked online, emailed each other, and left messages on each other’s ‘Calling All Covershire’ profiles all the time.
Someone at Birston City Uni had started the CAC (yes, I know, great acronym) website as part of his degree coursework on social media and it had really taken off in the past year. It was similar to all the major worldwide social networking sites apart from one small detail: you could only join if you lived in the county of Covershire. Of course, this couldn’t exactly be policed all the time so you occasionally got people from London and similar areas logging on to make fun of the ‘country folk’, but generally it was a good way to keep in touch with the locals.
Most of the people I knew in Little Forest were on CAC - including some of the older generations - but I mainly used it to communicate with Rach, Max, Veronica and Will, especially when I’d run out of free minutes on my phone. There were countless photos and videos of us all at The Pit on each of our profiles, and a few others from various weekends away. I’d forgotten to take my camera to our most recent Rock Magic outing, but seeing how the evening had panned out, that was probably a blessing. No one needed to remember that night, least of all me. It definitely wasn’t the twenty-first birthday I’d hoped for.
I logged into my account and clicked on Veronica’s page. She hadn’t updated it since Friday night when we are at The Pit, which struck me as strange. She usually went on CAC on her phone at work when she was bored (like me), but there was no recent activity at all. I sent her a private message asking what was wrong, and was just about to sign out when I saw a message Will had posted on her profile.
He’d written, ‘Where are you?! Call me.’ I stared at the words and let myself feel a little bit of hope; she’d been ignoring Will as well? I clicked on his profile and saw that his last update had been ‘I hate groceries. I’m in the wrong line of work’ just ten minutes ago.
The thought that Will Wolseley was the only person I could turn to was a bit sickening, but I’d had enough of sitting in my room all morning feeling sorry for myself. I closed my laptop, slipped some shoes on, grabbed my bag and went downstairs.
My mum was sitting watching some awful Agony Aunt show on TV and I completely ignored her as I walked past the lounge and out the front door.
***
I got to the village grocery store, Miller & Son’s - which was currently empty apart from a couple of elderly residents - and walked down a few aisles before I spotted Will in the entertainment section. He was wearing the dark green uniform of the shop and his usual Converse, rearranging a display on murder mystery books and seemingly getting quite annoyed with it; I could hear him swearing under his breath as I got closer and I couldn’t help but smile. Despite our differences, Will was pretty funny (to laugh at, mostly). He still hadn’t noticed me so I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
He jumped and dropped the books he was holding; he obviously wasn’t expecting to run into another human being in the grocery store, and by the pitiful amount of customers in here, I could understand why. He turned round, stepping on one of the novels, and smiled as he realised who it was.
He punched me playfully on the shoulder, causing me to flinch. I was usually a pretty touchy-feely person, but only with people I felt comfortable with.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
I twisted my mouth into the best smile I could muster and helped him pick up the books. I was just putting one entitled ‘The Lady in the Woods’ back on the shelf when he asked me, “So, what brings you here? Other than to sabotage my job?”
I turned to look at him. He was still smiling but was obviously curious; I never really came here and I didn’t usually initiate conversation with him when we were on our own. For good reason. I took a deep breath and asked my first question: “Has Veronica been ignoring you?”
Will’s smile faltered. “I wouldn’t say ignoring… I just haven’t spoken to her since we went to The Pit for your birthdays, but it’s only been a couple of days.” He shrugged.
I nodded and looked at my watch. It was just before midday. “What time do you get off work?” I heard the pleading tone in my voice and hated myself for it.
His smile came back again and I suddenly wished I’d put that question in another, less ambiguous, way.
“Today I get off at…” he had to think for a moment, “four.”
I groaned inwardly. I couldn’t talk to him here, but four hours seemed like a long time to wait to get everything off my chest. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me after work?”
He must have seen the desperate expression on my face because he looked at his watch and thought for a second. “Well I can take an hour off for lunch, we could go somewhere now?”
I smiled in relief. “That’d be great.”
He seemed relieved, too, probably to get out of work for a while. “OK, I’ll just go tell my manager, meet you outside?”
I nodded, and as I watched him walk off, I felt a (rather unpleasant) surge of appreciation towards him.
I was about to walk off when I realised the book he’d stepped on was still on the floor. Picking it up, I tried to dust it off; it was a flimsy paperback called ‘The Haunted Tree’. I laughed at the simple title and rubbish pencil drawing on the cover and put it next to the others.
After a couple of minutes wandering around the empty aisles, I left the depressingly quiet shop and waited for Will outside in the cool, fresh air.
***
He appeared a couple of minutes later, smiling widely and carrying a four-pack of cider. I raised my eyebrows at him and he laughed, holding it up. “Hey, if you worked here, you’d need to drink at lunch too.”
I laughed in disbelief. Yes, I often felt like I needed a drink after work, but I’m pretty sure I’d be fired if I drank at lunch. “Won’t your boss be mad?”
&
nbsp; Will’s face lit up. “That’s the best bit! He let me have the afternoon off as it’s so dead. So, where are we going?”
The afternoon off? I was clearly working at the wrong place. “The Lake? It should be pretty quiet this time of year.” After mine and V’s showdown at the Diner, I’d rather go where other people wouldn’t see me.
Will nodded and we started walking towards Little Forest Lake. We cut through the outside market which was just as empty as the grocery store, and I nodded at one of my mum’s friends, Lydia Tyler, who had her own fruit stall there. I couldn’t bring myself to smile at her or say anything. I knew it was stupid, but I was so angry with my parents that I didn’t want to socialise with anyone even associated with them.
We crossed Castle Road and passed the ‘Welcome to Little Forest’ sign in silence. The old white signpost had become extremely weathered over the years and the triangular cattle sign that rested above the village greeting was threatening to fall completely off the pole - one more freak storm and it would be gone. The welcome notice was small and delicate and reflected the quaintness of the area. I supposed its tattered state also resembled the village, or at least some of its residents.
A few seconds later we turned into the lane leading to the picnic area. As expected, the place was empty and we had our pick of the benches. I chose the one nearest the lake and we sat down opposite each other, Will putting the cider between us on the table. It was pretty cold and I got my scarf and fingerless gloves out of my bag.
Will held out the cider cans. “Come on, it’ll warm you up!”
I looked at my watch again. “Well, it is after midday… go on then.”
That was the usual rule around here.
I opened the can and took a sip. The taste distracted me from the current situation; it was warm and pretty disgusting. “What is this?”
Will smiled at my reaction and held up the can in a toasting pose. “Covershire’s finest!”
I laughed. “Figures.”
I looked over at the lake and marvelled at how different things could look in just one change of the season. A few months ago I’d been sitting here with Veronica in the sun, surrounded by Little Forest residents and a few tourists, feeding the ducks with bread and revelling in the fine weather. Now it was the stark opposite: the ducks were gone, it was cold and cloudy, and the water was dark and murky. The usually beautiful ornate bridge over the water now looked ancient and crooked in its desolate surroundings, and there were no signs of life other than the two of us. I couldn’t even hear any birds or traffic from Castle Road; sitting there alone in the picnic area, we could have been the only two people in the village.