Lorna shrank back as James’s eyes rested on her. ‘You want to tell him, or shall I?’ he said.
ONE HUNDRED AND TEN
Saturday 20 March
Nancy tried to get closer to the front of the crowd.Dammit, is the whole village out tonight?She eventually pushed her way through and saw Lupin tied to the yew tree, nibbling at a carrot that Nancy supposed someone had left for him, hanging from the branches.
Lara wasn’t there. The throne was empty.
Confused, Nancy looked around but she couldn’t see her daughter anywhere. She edged through the dense crowd with a growing anxiety, looking for her, but the darkness swallowed everything up. The smoke from the torches that were placed around the yew tree was making her cough. The band seemed deafening, the crowds claustrophobic.
Suddenly a deluge of brown sludge fell from the tree in a loud splash and clattering of metal. It covered the throne, splattering beyond the platform. The crowd looked on, not understanding what was happening. Nancy opened her mouth in shock.
Brown mess dripped off the wicker chair. A strong, disgusting smell permeated the air.
People pulled faces, wrinkled their noses. Nancy covered her mouth and nose with her hand. The identity of the smell was indisputable.
Shit.
Nancy reeled. Horror and disgust engulfed her. Was that meant for Lara?
She spun around, appalled. Where the hell was she? She looked again, getting more frantic. People were trying to get away from the mess and were pushing past her. She stumbled, tried to get some space.Where was her daughter?
Then Nancy caught sight of Rosie still hiding by the trees. She was alone now. Rosie was staring at the throne with a mixture of awe and disappointment.
Nancy moved away from the crowd, propelled by a terrible rage that was primal in its power.
Rosie was so fixated on her failure she didn’t see her coming, had no time to get away.
‘What have you done with her?’ demanded Nancy.
‘What?’ said Rosie.
‘Lara! Tell me where she is.’
Rosie held her gaze. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t she sitting on her throne?’
‘Was that you? You rigged that up?’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Nancy tried to hold it together. She knew this child had done something to her daughter. Knew it in the very essenceof her being. Where had she taken her? What had she done to her?
Nancy’s voice was dangerously low. ‘You tell me where she is,’ she growled, ‘or so help me God...’
ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN
Saturday 20 March
As Imogen came down to Heron Water, she could tell almost immediately that something was off. People were moving away in droves from the yew tree, their faces appalled, their conversations seemingly full of disbelief and confusion. The band were still gamely playing, the leader holding his baton aloft and conducting, even though it was clear to him that there was a disturbance of some kind.
Imogen moved closer, about to go and see what was going on, but it was then she heard shouts coming from the opposite direction. She peered through the darkness. There seemed to be some sort of scuffle over by a car. Was it afight?
Oh my God, was itDylanin the fight?
Imogen ran over just in time to see her husband’s knuckles land on James’s face. Her mouth opened in horror. And it wasn’t the first punch he’d thrown, judging by the state of James.
‘Stop!’ she yelled, trying to get past the small crowd, some of whom were attempting to pull Dylan away, some forming a barrier around James.
