The Hollows(27)

The situation became normal. We settled into a routine. My trips to the US were special. But it was on days like this – reminded of what we’d once had, and knowing that I was missing most of her adolescence – that I had to try extra hard to keep a brave face.

We gathered with a couple of other families on the edge of the resort, the horses still out of sight. Frankie seemed nervous.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. It’s been a long time.’

I was a little nervous too. This was going to be my first time on horseback in years.

The instructor, a woman called Susan, had handed out helmets and was running through the health and safety instructions, and telling us about the route we were going to take. Through the woods for a couple of miles, which would take us close to Penance, then loop back to where we started.

‘It will take about an hour,’ Susan said. She was young and sturdy-looking, with brown hair cut in a bob. ‘How many of you are experienced riders?’

A couple of women raised their hands and I nudged Frankie. Susan noticed.

‘You know your way around horses?’ she asked.

Frankie gave me her patented ‘thanks for embarrassing me’ look and said, ‘I used to ride every weekend when I was a kid.’

‘Well, in that case I’ve got a beautiful pony you can take out, honey.’

Susan went through a gate towards the stables, and over the next ten minutes she and another woman brought out the horses and ponies. They had already been saddled and they plodded along with their noses down, flanks shining in the afternoon sun.

‘This is Magpie,’ Susan said, giving Frankie the reins of a beautiful piebald pony. ‘We only let more experienced riders take her. Is that going to be okay?’

‘Why’s that?’ I asked. The pony kept hoofing the ground and tossing her mane. I was worried she might be skittish.

Susan smiled. ‘Oh, Magpie is quite a character. But if you’d rather I fetched one of the quieter ponies . . .’

‘No. I want Magpie,’ Frankie said. It was love at first sight. The pony pushed its nose against her and she stroked its mane. It was like having the old Frankie back, even more so than when she’d hugged me.

Everyone was introduced to their mount. I had a grey gelding called Springsteen, who was considerably bigger than Magpie. He fixed me with a hard stare before allowing me to stroke his head. I put one foot in the stirrup and climbed up, my stomach lurching as the horse shifted and I saw how far I was from the ground. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be on such a powerful creature, but then I saw Frankie so at ease on top of her own horse and forced myself to stay calm.

‘Now,’ Susan called, ‘the horses know where they’re going so you don’t need to worry about directing them. We’re all going to walk at first, but when we get a little further in, those of you who want to trot will be able to do so, once I’ve said it’s okay.’ She continued with the brief, said, ‘Any questions?’, and then we were off.

As we started moving I was convinced I was going to fall, and I clung on tight, intoning ‘Don’t look down, don’t look down’ under my breath. But once I relaxed, I loved it. The trail, which led north-west through the woods, sun splashing through the branches, was only wide enough for the horses and ponies to walk in single file. Frankie looked over her shoulder and smiled at me, a sight that connected directly with my heart.

When the path widened, I found myself next to a woman who introduced herself as Madison, who was from New York. Her husband and teenage daughter were behind us. After ten minutes or so, we passed the clearing that David had taken me to, with the flat rock at its centre.

‘Hey,’ Madison said to her husband. ‘That’s the spot where it happened.’

‘You’re here because of the murders?’ I asked.

‘No. Well, not just that.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s an added bonus, is all.’

‘Did you hear about this place on some kind of dark-tourism website?’ I had slipped into interview mode.

‘Uh-uh. It was on a podcast.’

‘Connie Butler’s?’

‘Oh, are you a fan too?’ Her voice became hushed. ‘I actually saw her and David yesterday. They said hello to me.’ She said it as if she’d encountered Prince Harry and Meghan. She leaned towards me and said, with a conspiratorial air, ‘David told me they’ve got a surprise for people who are interested in the case.’

‘Really? Did he say what?’

‘Nope. It wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it? Hey, do you think they might have found out something new about the case? Maybe they’ve found Everett Miller. You know, the woman in the cabin next to ours thought she saw him.’

‘What?’

‘I know. Creepy, right? She was out for a walk, out behind the tennis courts, and she says she saw a shifty-looking guy just hanging around in the trees. Like he was trying to hide. When she saw him, she says he vanished like he was made of smoke.’

This was good material for my article, even if I didn’t believe it could possibly be Everett.

‘Did she say what he looked like?’

Madison hesitated. ‘She was kind of reluctant to tell me, like I’d think she was crazy.’

‘But?’

‘She said he didn’t look normal. She saw his face for a split second but she said she thought there was something wrong with it. Like – well, it sounds crazy, but like he wasn’t human any more. As if the evil inside him had transformed him.’ She cleared her throat. I was staring at her and I think she was regretting bringing up the subject. ‘Like he was a demon or something.’