back in the early twentieth century, but was now little more than a brick shell, the rotted timbers of its first floor having collapsed, the slates of the roof missing, likely adorning the roof of some other property by now. Above the door a carved stone lintel read, Kirk Cottage.
Daniela went down the bank and circled the building. The area never drained properly and, even months after the last flood, the earth was still sodden, the mud churned by footprints from dog-walkers, ramblers or people looking for a fishing spot. Daniela stepped around puddles of stagnant water.
She was annoyed to find someone had replaced the broken board across the side window. She’d smashed the board herself, a few months earlier, to allow access to the interior. Not that anything was inside – more mud, more standing water, a tangle of nettles, corroded and discoloured litter – but that wasn’t the point. There was precious little to do in Stonecrop, and kids made their own entertainment.
Now a new sheet of plyboard had been nailed up, along with a notice that the structure was unsafe and trespassing was forbidden.
Daniela glanced around to make sure no one was about. Then she climbed on the windowsill, gripped either side of the stone window for support, and kicked the board.
The hollow boom rolled across the river and back. Daniela drove her foot into the board several more times until the wood split.
She was breathing hard as she climbed down. She worked her fingers into the split and, with some pushing and shoving, loosened the nails on one side. With a final effort and a satisfying splintering, part of the plyboard came loose. It’d been nailed onto a wooden frame fixed inside the window, but not well enough. Daniela tossed the broken piece of wood aside.
The hole she’d made was just wide enough to let a person climb into the building. Daniela wiped her hands on her jacket. She had no interest in going into the ruin today. She just didn’t want anybody keeping her out.
She left the ruined house and followed the path until she reached the Hackett road. There she hesitated. Turning left would take her into the centre of Stonecrop, where she could maybe try her luck at the Crossed Swords. The landlord liked her well enough, but his wife really didn’t. Daniela had worked there for a few months the previous year, collecting glasses, but there’d been a falling out – a discrepancy in the till one night – which Daniela had got the blame for, and the landlady had never allowed her in the bar since.
If Daniela turned right at the road, she’d eventually reach the town of Hackett. The road wound between fields and crossed the River Bade via the old bridge, which hadn’t been designed for anything more strenuous than horse-drawn traffic, and which had been verging on collapse for twenty years.
It was a fair distance to walk, although she’d done it before, and there might be a bus or someone she could thumb a lift off. When she got to Hackett, she could catch a train to the next town, and the next, and the next …
With an angry shake of her head, Daniela turned left, towards Stonecrop. Who was she fooling? Several times a week she made these long, aimless walks, and fantasised about leaving forever, and every goddamn time she made an excuse not to take the first step. She could circle around and around, and sometimes look wistfully towards other places, but always she was drawn back in, like to a magnet.
The time wasn’t right, of course. She was saving up money from her odd jobs, along with the hand-outs from her dad – plus anything else she came across – to raise an escape fund. The savings were squirrelled beneath the loose floorboard in her bedroom. Once she had enough money, she’d be gone.
She heard a car approaching, and crossed to the opposite side of the road so the car would see her when it rounded the corner. Daniela had lost count of how many times some idiot driving too fast along those country roads had almost wiped her out.
When a car appeared, it was indeed driving too fast, and being driven by an idiot.
The car screeched to a halt next to where Daniela had hastily stepped onto the verge. A woman leaned out of the driver’s window.
‘Been looking for you all over,’ Stephanie said. ‘Want a lift?’
Auryn was in the passenger seat, one foot propped on the dashboard, so Daniela climbed in the back, sliding across the leather seat.
‘What’s going on?’ Daniela asked. ‘Family outing?’
Auryn flashed a grin. ‘We’re gonna pick up Franklyn.’
‘Frankie’s back? She only just left.’
‘Apparently she missed us.’
Stephanie made an indelicate noise. ‘I can think of a number of reasons why she’s back,’ she said, ‘and precisely none of them are to do with missing us.’
Auryn shrugged. ‘Just a suggestion. Anyways.’ She twisted in her seat to face Daniela. The round glasses she’d taken to wearing made her look young and owlish. Auryn’s fair hair was tidy, worn in a neat, trendy style. The blonde mistake of the family, she would joke. ‘Apparently Franklyn came in on the bus this morning and wants to meet up. Seriously, I think she misses us.’
Daniela and Franklyn had always been close – perhaps because they were so similar in appearance and temperament – but now Franklyn had moved away from Stonecrop, the times they spent together felt strained and awkward, like they both knew they were growing apart, and neither had the ability or the inclination to prevent it.
‘She’ll be in trouble,’ Stephanie said. ‘You mark my words.’
Stephanie drove too fast through the country lanes. Her Subaru was only three years old and the interior was immaculate, but the exhaust had suffered an incident with a cattle-grid and roared like a tank when the car accelerated. Stephanie had completed an advanced driving course for her job, which she reckoned made her a safe driver, no matter her speed. Daniela disagreed. She fastened her seatbelt and braced against the front seat.
‘Where’re we meeting Franklyn?’ she asked.
‘She’s having a word with Henry McKearney,’ Stephanie said. Her tone indicated her feelings.
Roughly seven years ago, the relationship between their dad and Henry McKearney had gone irreparably sour. Their dad had opted to be bought out of the antiques emporium they’d founded together. Things might’ve been all right if one family or the other had moved away from Stonecrop and let tempers settle, but everyone involved was way too stubborn. The Cain and McKearney families continued to coexist, relations between them becoming increasingly strained as the years went by.
Stephanie sped into the village, through the square, only slowing as they approached the junction next to the Corner Shoppe. She bumped the car onto the pavement without indicating. Auryn popped open the door.
‘Are we picking up Leo as well?’ Daniela asked.
Auryn’s ears went pink, and she mumbled something. That was another complicating factor – Auryn had been dating Leo McKearney for almost a year. Everyone had realised they were serious when they applied to the same university and made plans to move in together. In idle moments, Daniela wondered what Henry thought about that. She knew her own thoughts well enough.
Daniela followed Auryn out of the car and across the street. The antiques shop was bolted onto the Corner Shoppe, which the McKearney family also owned, and to the house at the back where the McKearney family lived. It was a wide, low-slung shop, a holdover of Seventies’ architecture, with broad windows and a constant air of neglect. When Henry took sole ownership, he renovated the façade and commissioned a posh new painted board above the front windows, reading McKearney Antiques. But since then the woodwork had faded and never been repainted. Daniela didn’t know how the place ever turned a profit, since she rarely saw any customers. At a cursory glance it looked like it’d shut down months ago. The Open sign was dusty.
The Corner Shoppe next door was run by Henry’s wife Margaret and was therefore in a much better state. Daniela had heard village gossip that the difficulties between Henry and Margaret didn’t just extend