‘OK, great,’ Connor said, directing Cristy into the pub they were passing. ‘It’s still early, so time for a quick bite. We should be back mid-afternoon,’ he told Clove and Jacks before ringing off.
By the time they both had drinks in hand and had found a corner table, Cristy was reading a message on her phone. She didn’t immediately respond when he asked what she wanted to eat.
‘Something I should know about?’ he asked, trying to get her attention.
She looked up, focused on him and quickly shut the message down. ‘Nothing important.’ She smiled. ‘What did you say? Oh, just a sandwich for me – ham and cheese? I’m going to pop to the loo while you go and order.’
Once in the ladies, Cristy took her phone out again and reread the text from Paul Kinsley.
No pressure from this end, just wondering if you’d like to have another chat. Sure you have questions by now or thoughts on how you’d like to take things forward. You have my number. PK
Knowing she couldn’t simply ignore the message, much as she might like to right now, she quickly hit reply and said:
Sorry for radio silence, a new series underway. Would love to chat, will call next week when I’ve figured out how to make you an offer you can’t refuse. CW
Knowing it would amuse him to have his own words quoted back at him, particularly in this way, she pressed send and immediately regretted it. God only knew what her offer was going to be when she wasn’t even close to making a decision. Or maybe, given that response, it was already made and she just needed to find a way to make it work without hurting – or feeling as though she wasbetraying– some of the people she loved most in the world. Would she actually do that? Put herself and this once-in-a-lifetime offer ahead of her loyalties and precious friendships? Was that who she really was?
Yes and no. Her heart, her soul, was inHindsight,with Connor and the team, with Meena and Harry, Matthew and Aiden, and everything that was special in her hometown of Bristol.
Time to fly, Mum,she could hear her children saying.Fifty next week, and this could be a fantastic new start to the rest of your life. All you have to do is get out there and live it.
Mervin Wilson’s bungalow, bright yellow with green window frames and matching front door, turned out to be all polished dark wood inside, and cabinets stuffed with Matchbox cars and Airfix planes, flowery carpets that clashed with the bulky chintz furniture. A massive crucifix hung over the old-fashioned tiled fireplace. the open-mouthed agony of Christ sending a shiver down Cristy’s spine.
Wilson himself was clearly well into his seventh decade: tall but stooped, squint-eyed, and as softly spoken as he was borderline creepy.
Declining his offer of tea and madeleines, Cristy waited until he’d settled into an armchair next to the TV and said, ‘Are you happy for us to record right away?’
The older man’s eyes slid to Connor and stayed there. ‘Go ahead,’ he said, and he still didn’t look away as Connor began setting up the equipment.
Wanting to laugh at the way Connor was gaining some sort of fan club today, Cristy checked her notes, and once she’d received the thumbs up, she began by describing Wilson as a dapper gentleman in his later years who’d lived on Randall Lane for as long as the Ivorsons.
WILSON: ‘Since before the estate was built and all them depressing flats went up over on Peck Drive. The Ivorson’s house was a farm back then – a small-holding, I suppose you’d call it now – that belonged to Ronnie’s parents. They used to keep all sorts, even had a cow at one point, I recall. Anyway, everything changed when the developers moved in; they were lucky to keep as much land as they did, although I believe they were offered a tidy sum for the bottom plot, next to the woods.
‘They turned it down, and Ronnie and Maeve never sold when they took the place over after the old folk passed on – that must have been after all the building started. Or maybe it had finished by then. I can check if it’s important …’
CRISTY: ‘Don’t worry, it’s not something we need to know at this stage. We’re more interested in the “incidents” you described to our researchers when they came at the weekend. You mentioned something about activity in the woods …’
WILSON: ‘Saw it with my own eyes, all that gallivanting about down there, chanting, wailing, setting sticks on fire, dressing up like brides and animals. There was all sorts going on, and I meanall sorts. It was like watching the Kama Sutra come to life some nights … They had no shame … She was a proper little tart, that Nicole, strutting down through the garden, not a stitch on her back … It’s no wonder she could never name the father of those poor twins – it could have been Lucifer himself, and believe me, he was there, all horns and pitchfork and phallus as big as a horse. Sorry, is it OK to say that? Just trying to tell it like it was.’
Already getting a measure of this man, Cristy took the decision to play along for a while, mainly to be polite, but also to see how far he might take things.
CRISTY: ‘So it was some sort of Satanic cult?’
WILSON: ‘Couldn’t see it any other way. I mean, I’m no expert, but I can tell you this: it frightened the life out of me, and I can’t remember how many times I complained to the council to get them to stop. There was proper evil afoot down there. You could feel it like it was coming off the trees and oozing up through the ground. That’s why I’ve got so many crucifixes in the house – I needed something to protect myself, didn’t I? To ward off all that devilry. It’s just a shame none of the local vicars had the guts to do their jobs properly – having quiet chats with the Ivorsons was never going to do anything, was it? Then young Hopkins came along, and he did go down there with the intention of breaking it all up, or that’s what I thought until I realized he was bloody one of them.’
CRISTY: ‘The local vicar became part of the cult?’
WILSON: ‘That’s what I’m saying. One of the randiest of the lot, from what I could make out.’
Realizing they really were dealing with the neighbourhood nutter – actually, pervert might be a better description – Cristy was on the point of wrapping things up, when Wilson began speaking again.
WILSON: ‘I reported it all to the police. I wasn’t going to keep something like that to myself, was I? Not when I found out those poor little mites had been sacrificed. I always knew something terrible was going to happen. I could sense it right through to my bones, and for all I know, they weren’t the first kids to end up on one of those disgusting altars.’
CRISTY: ‘Do you know if the police looked into it?’
WILSON: ‘They told me they did, but by then they’d disbanded, hadn’t they? The cult, I mean – not the police.’
CRISTY: ‘Did any of your neighbours also witness what was happening?’
