The Girls Who Disappeared(22)

‘Why? I don’t know anything.’

‘Just because you found her that night. You saved her life, Ralph.’

He assesses me as though he’s not sure whether to believe me. But then, to my relief, he stands aside to let me in. ‘I … It ain’t much, mind.’

I tell him I don’t care about that as I step up into the caravan. Straight away I’m hit by the smell of wet dog mixed with beef soup, but his caravan is tidy yet sparse. I can see it has a small bedroom off the main area and, next to it, a toilet. He indicates the table at the opposite end and I inch past the kitchenette to get to it. The brown sofa is ripped in places, foam oozing from the cracks, and a tabby cat is curled up in the corner.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he asks. ‘I ain’t got no milk, mind. Olivia used the last of it.’

I spot two green plastic camping mugs on the melamine worktop. ‘I’d love a coffee if you have any. I have it black anyway.’

He nods and opens a little cupboard above his head and takes out two clean plastic mugs. I notice how his hands shake as he switches the little kettle on and my eye goes to a bin in the corner piled high with empty lager cans.

‘How long have you lived here?’ I ask, as he scoops some Nescafé into my mug.

‘Years and years,’ he says. His accent is thick West Country. ‘My stepdad threw me out when I was seventeen. I’ve been here ever since. The caravan was my ma’s, like. She took pity on me, I think. Not pity enough to kick out that scumbag of a husband, mind.’

I watch as he pours the hot water into the mugs, then ambles towards me. He seems too big for this small space. He sits opposite me, sliding my mug across the table. The tabby cat stretches and resumes its sleeping position. I stroke its soft head. Out of the corner of my eye I see something scurry out from under the table and towards the bedroom. I squeal with surprise.

‘That’s just Timmy Willy,’ he says, grinning at me.

‘It’s … a mouse?’

‘Yep. A field mouse. Olivia named him. From Beatrix Potter. He likes to come in and I give him summit to eat.’

I shudder at the thought that rodents just wander through the caravan and surreptitiously scan the floor to make sure no other furry friends are about to make an appearance.

He laughs. ‘He won’t hurt you.’

There is something so childlike about Ralph and I feel a lump form in my throat. Since I’ve had Finn I’ve become soft. I see the little boy that Ralph once was and wonder how he could have ended up like this. Was he loved growing up? Did his mother do enough to protect him? Who cares for him now? I wonder if Olivia does. Is that why she visits? The rain thrashes against the window and the wind whistles through the gaps in the caravan. Yet I don’t feel afraid here with him, even though I probably should. This could be exactly what Ralph is banking on. Luring his victims here by pretending to be a simple soul with animals for companions. As I reach for my phone to record him I place the mace inside my handbag but within easy reach.

‘You’re happy for me to record you?’ I ask, setting my phone up on its stand between us.

He nods. ‘Sure.’

‘So why did Olivia come and see you?’ I sip my coffee while I wait for him to answer.

He shrugs. ‘She comes often. She’s my friend. She’s always been kind to me. I know what people say about me, but Olivia’s always treated me like a person, not a joke.’

‘Did you know her before the accident?’

He shakes his head, his giant hands clutching his mug. ‘Only after her friends went missing.’ He’s silent for a few moments, looking into his coffee. And then he says, ‘They were nice girls. Pretty.’

I try to fight the preconceived idea that he’s some kind of pervert just because he lives alone in the forest and is a little bit odd.

But then I remember Olivia’s pinched white face, her puffy eyes. Had he tried it on with her?

‘Did you like the girls, Ralph?’ I say carefully. ‘Do you like Olivia?’

He looks up at me. ‘I didn’t know them. And, like I said, Olivia is just a friend.’

‘Did you see anything that night? Anything suspicious?,

He bites his lip, as though he’s trying to stop himself saying something he shouldn’t.

‘Olivia claims to have seen a figure in the road. And that’s why she’d swerved. Did you see anything?’

He shrugs again, avoiding eye contact. ‘No. I didn’t see a person in the road.’

‘You said something about a bright light? And then you retracted it?’ I press.

He sighs. ‘It was a long time ago. I can’t remember.’

‘Did you see a bright light?’

‘Olivia told me not to say.’

‘Olivia told you not to say what? About the light?’

‘People would laugh. That’s what she said. People would laugh at me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I believe in aliens.’

Oh, yes, his alien theory. ‘Did Olivia see the bright light too?’

He nods, just a fraction. ‘This place ain’t right,’ he blurts out suddenly, with feeling. ‘I’ve been saying that for years. It’s haunted.’

‘What did you think the bright light was, Ralph?’