The Retreat(72)

I told him that the child was meant to be secured to a tree in the heart of the woods and left for the witch to take.

Albert nodded. ‘You and I know there’s no such thing as the Widow. It was less than twenty-four hours ago, so if they did take her and tied her to a tree, she’d still be there. Are the police searching the woods?’

‘I don’t know. I hear they’re organising search parties now.’

He picked up his phone and I asked him what he was doing.

‘Calling Glynn.’

‘Are you mad? It could have been him.’

‘It could have been you,’ he said to me. ‘It could have been any of us.’

‘But you have less reason than the rest of us for doing it. You don’t have children. That’s why I came here.’

We stared at each other.

‘Do you believe in the Widow?’ he asked.

‘Of course not. Do you?’

‘No, I don’t. But what did Shirley say? All it takes is for one person to believe. It could have been any of you. Any parent who was trying to protect their child.’

He was right. I knew it wasn’t me. I didn’t think it was David – he always seemed so rational, had even confessed to being an atheist because he couldn’t believe in something for which there was no scientific proof. Glynn was the obvious suspect. I knew he could be cruel, that he was unfaithful and unafraid of violence. I’d seen him square up to men in the pub. At school he was a bully. And his mother – she undoubtedly believed in the old stories. Glynn seemed to believe in them too.

His one redeeming feature was that he doted on his daughter, Wendy.

But would he really take and sacrifice another child because he believed she might be in danger?

‘We should go to the police,’ Albert said. ‘Tell them about our meeting and what Glynn said.’

‘Wait. Let me think.’

I imagined myself talking to the police. Accusing my fellow Society member of this terrible crime. The thought of falsely accusing someone filled me with horror.

And there was another reason not to go to the police, of which I am deeply, deeply ashamed. If the police took us seriously, they would want us all to provide alibis, wouldn’t they?

I couldn’t do it. Because I was out yesterday evening, visiting a friend. And if I was forced to give an alibi, Sylvia would find out.

I read this part out to Olly. He sighed.

‘His friend. He mentions her in other parts of the journal. The old bastard was cheating on my mum.’

Just like the man who killed Priya. Men with secrets, flinching from justice. My opinion of Malcolm plummeted.

I read the final paragraphs of the entry.

I persuaded Albert that we should keep quiet. The chances were, I said, none of the members of the Society had taken that girl. It was a coincidence. He agreed. The girl had probably wandered off, he said. She would turn up in a day or two.

But on the way home, I made an anonymous call to the police, from a phone box, advising them to search the woods, to look for signs that Carys had been tied to a tree.

Just in case.





Chapter 36

In the following entry, Malcolm described the next meeting of the Historical Society. All four of them were there, along with Shirley:

We all sat in silence at first, nobody quite daring to speak, shifty eyes flitting around the table. Shirley kept clutching her cross. Albert gave me meaningful glances and David looked green around the gills. The girl still hasn’t turned up, though I heard the police had searched the woods and interviewed known sex offenders in the area. The detective in charge of the investigation was quoted in the paper, saying it wasn’t helpful that local people kept telling him the girl was taken by the Widow, chosen because no one had given her an offering.

Glynn leaned forward and looked around the table at each of us in turn.

‘So,’ he stage-whispered. ‘Which one of you did it?’

There was a flurry of denials and accusations. It descended into a fierce argument. I couldn’t work out if Glynn was acting, cleverly trying to lay the blame at someone’s feet. Creating a smokescreen of confusion.

‘How about you, Glynn?’ I said. ‘Was it you?’

He smiled. ‘Perhaps what people are saying is right. Perhaps the Widow came into town and took her.’

Absurd. But I couldn’t work out if he actually believed that.

I examined each of my so-called friends in turn. Was one of them guilty? More than one, perhaps, working together? What if it was all of them?

Before we wrapped up, Glynn said, ‘At least she won’t be missed. The girl, I mean. At least the Widow didn’t take anyone important.’

The entry ended there. Olly said, ‘I flicked ahead, seeing if there were any more references to it. All I know is the girl was never found.’

‘What do you think?’ I asked. ‘Do you think one of them did it?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I know a bloody witch didn’t come into town to grab her. But it’s a hell of a coincidence, isn’t it, if she did just wander off? Did your dad ever say anything about it?’

I set the journal aside, placing it next to my empty coffee cup. ‘No. Not that I remember. I mean, I must have heard about the disappearance and the rumours.’ I explained the similarities to my novel. ‘We moved away in 1981, a year after this happened. Maybe that’s why. Maybe my dad wanted to get away.’