Eager to leave his thoughts in the garden, he leaned on the open patio door handle to pull off his muddy shoes before going back into the house. His gloved hand stopped as he grabbed the leather of his heel. What was going on out here tonight? Leaning down closer to the pale paving stones to get a better look, he scanned along the wall to see where the little devils were coming from. His eyes came to rest at the fence that separated his house from Daisy’s. There was a tiny stream of black ants marching from her side of the brown wood to his, running all the way to his patio door, where they seemed to be just milling about, as if waiting for further instruction. He shook his head, not sure whether to trust his vision for the second time this evening. Ants this late in the summer?

  Keeping his shoes on, he went inside and locked the sliding door firmly behind him, peering at the growing multitude through the glass. Ants. Well, it must just be the evening for unusual things, and it wasn’t as if the summer were quite over yet. Maybe this was their last supper before the hard frosts came.

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  He pulled his shoes off on the mat, and replaced them with his loafers, ignoring the scream in his back as he straightened up. Maybe he’d overdone the recommended gentle exercise slightly, but at least the pain let him know that he was still very much with the living. Checking the carpet, he saw with relief that none of his six-legged friends had made it in with him, but he liked to open the door in the mornings and let some air in, so something was going to have to be done about his new garden inhabitants. He wouldn’t normally bother, but there just seemed to be so damn many of them.

  The only thing for it was to pop next door and see where they were coming from. Daisy would want to know if she’s gotten a bit of an infestation anyway. A damn fine woman, Daisy Roper. She’d run the haberdashery in Market Square for years back when she’d been a real person, just like he’d been; and just like he, she was damned if she was joining the retirement home brigade, mid-eighties or not. That haberdashery had been a feature of the town for two decades, back in the days when haberdashery shops were a lady’s must, before a new generation came and took over, quietly pushing the old ways out, usurping from the inside.

  Unfortunately, the only thing that knocking at Daisy’s door revealed was that she wasn’t at home, and back in his own kitchen Ernest Matthews boiled a full kettle of water, starting to feel irritated at this interruption to his evening. He just wanted to sit in front of his fire, (gas these days, although still coal effect; the body wasn’t up to the rigors of maintaining a real fire anymore), and do the crossword while listening to the radio 4 play on the wireless.

  Trying to shake off his internal grumbles, he tugged the lead away from the steaming kettle and headed toward the patio. He’d treat himself to a nice whisky when he’d finished. That would ease his aches and pains, physical and otherwise. Unlocking the door, he slid it open, and

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  noticed with amazement that the mass of black insects was making its way onto the wooden lintel of the doorframe. They were persistent little buggers, he had to give them that. Tipping his wrist, he started to pour, and wondered momentarily, how much pain they’d feel.

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  Kelly was glad she didn’t have her high heels on today as she almost jogged out of the school gates before anyone could grab her. A free period at the end of the day was a rarity and with her year ten English group away on a trip, she intended to make the most of the extra hour. Once a safe hundred yards away, she slowed her trot down to a brisk walk, pushing her blond hair away from her face so she could see where she was going, her breath quick in her chest.

  Time to start going back to those aerobics classes before your body completely goes to pot on you, she chastised herself. Slim didn’t always mean fit, and the busyness of home and work that made her forget to eat was the same one that left her too tired to exercise. It was a lose-lose situation. Next week, I’ll sign up again, she thought with a wry internal smile. And pigs might fly. Do white lies count when you only tell them to yourself?

  Her brown eyes, unusual for a natural blonde, were sparkling as she strode down the long road that separated Dulverton from Streatford. It was about four miles

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  between the two villages and the school was somewhere about halfway, but she figured if she kept up her pace she’d make it in time to get to the nursery, where her father would be waiting. She got to pick up Tabitha so rarely these days that every opportunity was precious. It sometimes seemed it was only yesterday when she was a tiny wrinkled bundle smelling of talcum powder and baby formula; but her baby days were over and she was four and growing up fast.

  Thinking of her daughter, Kelly’s delicate cheekbones were highlighted with a smile. Yes, Tabby was great, but with the way her mother’s love life was going—not going would be closer to the truth—there weren’t going to be any baby brothers or sisters coming along to keep her company. At thirty-five, Kelly could feel her body clock ticking away, like some internal countdown to barrenness, and there was no hint of Mr. Right grinning at her from the horizon.

  Passing under the bridge, what she considered her halfway mark on her daily walk to school, she checked her watch. Good, she was in plenty of time to meet Tabby and the only man in her life she’d ever been able to rely on, her father. Under his and her mother’s gentle insistence, she’d tried dating most of the single men in town, none of whom really caught her eye apart from the occasional short-lived exception, and most of those relationships had been driven by the dawning realization that she was being considered by the chattering masses of Streatford to be an ideal candidate for the position of village spinster. Well, she managed to avoid that title quite dramatically when Tabitha came along. Village spinsters did not generally have children out of wedlock. That had caused a little stir amongst her parents’ generation, of which there were plenty. Did you hear about Kelly Hollingsworth? At her age you’d think she’d know better, her a policeman’s daughter, too. They say the father’s a married man. Her poor mother must be devastated.

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  It had been a long few months, but she’d kept her head held high and rode the wave until some juicier gossip had come along, which of course always happens. And yes, they’d been right. The father was a married man, and a lying shit to boot even if he had given her a beautiful daughter. At least once she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t going to have an abortion, no matter how much he pleaded with her, he’d had the decency to pack up his house and his wife and move out of town. Far out of town. Every cloud had a silver lining if you looked hard enough.

  She’d reached the top of Dulverton Road and started following the long stretch of pretty Edwardian terraces down toward the high street, her spirits high. It wasn’t as if she needed a man, anyway. Her life was pretty good, all things considered. She had her wonderful child, a job she loved, and she had her father, who was finally starting to get over her mother’s death two years ago. They were both getting over it, comforted by Tabitha and her startling resemblance to the woman who had been the heart of their lives for so long, before having to leave them to face the world on their own. No, they were doing pretty well. Her mum would be proud of them, and looking after Tabby with her was good for Dad, keeping him busy. And it was great for Kelly. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

  Turning down a side street before the crossroads at the bottom, she joined a gaggle of mothers heading toward the small primary school to pick up their kids. Tabby only went for the afternoons, but was loving it already. She was a clever little girl and had already decided she was going to be a ?pleaseman? like Granddad when she grew up. Kelly had a sneaking suspicion that the little girl knew how to pronounce the word perfectly well, but kept up her baby word to make an old man happy. It never failed to make retired Detective Sergeant Jack Hollingsworth laugh when he heard her say it, and anything that did

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  that was fine with his ladies, as they called themselves. Especially over the past couple of weeks, since that terrible rape at Syracousse.

  Neither of them had been laughing much since then. Kelly had taught those kids, and unruly as they were she couldn’t imagine what could have made them do something like that, especially not to Sharnice. Those three had been close. They had been friends. It was such a terrible, terrible business, and she only wished she could understand it.

  Spotting her father’s gray hair above the crowd of young mothers, she waved to get his attention. His face creased into a smile when he saw her and looking at him leaning on his walking stick, she felt a soft stabbing pain inside. When did you get so old, Dad? When did it happen, and why didn’t I notice? Was I too busy growing up myself?

  Pushing through the throng, she made her way, breathless, to his side. ?Hello, Pops.?She squeezed his arm and planted a kiss on his cheek, before she heard the familiar squeal.

  ?Mummy!?The small girl threw herself at them, and Kelly bent over to hug her, kissing the top of the dark head.

  ?I thought I’d come down and surprise you. I finished work early. Pleased to see me??

  Tabby squeezed the lower half of her mother’s body in response as the three generations of Hollingsworths made their way out of the crush and headed home to Horsefair Green. ?Look what I made! Look what I made!? Skipping slightly ahead of the two adults, she turned around and held up a piece of green sugar paper, daubed with colorful paint, depicting a large house and garden full of trees and plants. Kelly exchanged a smile with her father. Children’s imaginations were really something else. If that’s what Tabby thought their little terraced cottage was like, then they had it made.

  She ruffled the child’s wild dark curls, a legacy from her grandmother, that had escaped from her ribboned ponytail. ?Is that our house, honey??

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  Tabitha looked at her mother as if she were mad, a small furrow of impatience forming in her soft, smooth brow. ?‘Course not!?She glanced at the painting again as if to make sure, before smiling. ?It’s the house I’m gonna live in. It’s my house. I dreamed it.?

  With the amused love only a mother could feel, Kelly laughed. ?Well, if you want a house like that, young lady, my only advice to you is don’t become a teacher.?

  ?Or a policeman,?added Jack, sharing the fun. ?But it’s good to have someone with ambition in the family. You’ll be able to keep us in our old age.?

  Tabby was still holding the picture out in front of her, looking at it almost wistfully while she walked. ?My house.?

  Taking it from her, Kelly held it carefully as she took her daughter’s hand to cross the road. ?Tell you what. We’ll put it on the wall when we get home, and then when you get bigger and you don’t want to do your homework, you can look at it to remind you what you want in life. Deal??

  Tabby giggled and led the way home.

  The little girl was happily ensconced in front of CBBC, surrounded by toys, when Kelly came down the narrow staircase changed into her jeans and sweater. Time for half an hour relaxing with a cup of tea before the usual evening round of dinner, baths and then when Tabby was asleep, marking. Well, at least she’d gained an extra hour today, although that would fly by quickly enough. She saw with a smile that her father had already pinned up the picture in the kitchen by the door and was pouring out the tea. ?Thanks, Dad,? she said, gratefully taking the mug and sitting at the tiny table. ?So what did you get up to today? No wild house parties I hope.?

  Jack Hollingsworth didn’t smile, but pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down carefully, wary of the pain that tended to flare in his right hip. ?I went up to the station. Thought I might talk to someone about those boys.?

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  About to take a sip of her drink, Kelly paused, and put the mug down, untouched. She looked intently at the old man. ?Darren and Lee??Her tiredness was forgotten now.

  Her father nodded. ?I’ve still got some clout up there. Some of those high-flyers trained under me.?He rubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed.

  Kelly’s eyes were alert. ?Did they tell you anything? Did you get to speak to them? Was it drugs that made them do it??The anxiety in her voice was plain as she leaned forward.

  She cared about all the students in her school, but these three had been in her tutor group, and she hated that she hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong outside of their normal erratic behavior. She should have sensed there was a problem. That was her job. Three young lives were ruined, and maybe if she’d been paying attention, she could have done something to prevent it. Ever since the awful news had broken, she’d been eating herself up with guilt.

  Her father let out a long sigh. ?No, I didn’t speak to them. They’re on suicide watch at the moment. DS Keery says they’ll be transferring them up to the young offenders unit soon, and then you can probably get a visit, if they want to see you. I don’t think they’re in a good way.?

  Kelly’s heart ached. ?So what happened??

  Her father shrugged, meeting her gaze with a frank stare, reminding her that although his body was letting him down, he was still a policeman through and through. ?It’s hard to say. When they turned themselves in, they were taken separately for interview. They both came out with the same story, which isn’t much of a surprise since they’d been hiding out in the allotments overnight. Plenty of time to come up with something.? He grimaced as he flexed his leg. ?The thing was, they didn’t. Not really, although their story is pretty strange.?

  He paused to sip his tea, thoughtfully, and Kelly had to restrain herself from screaming at him to hurry up. But

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  she knew her father. His speech was always ponderous when his brain was working fast.

  ?Keery says that they both admitted to stealing a bottle of something from the liquor store on the high street, which has been confirmed by the manager, and then meeting up with Sharnice and going down by the river. Apparently, Sharnice didn’t want to stay there and so they went up to the Grace house, Syracousse. They’d never been up there before, and they claim that the front door was open. One of the boys knew a little bit about the history of the place because his dad works cleaning the offices at Greenslade’s, the solicitors that manage the property.?

  He paused to sip his tea. ?Anyway, they went inside, switched a light on in the front room and started drinking. Sharnice decided that maybe they should burn the house down for bonfire night. She was really adamant, and the boys went along. It was at about this time that the lights went out, and the boys can’t explain what happened next.?

  Kelly was’ puzzled. ?They can’t explain it? Are they claiming that they’re innocent??

  Jack shook his head. ?No. They were both very calm. They admitted they did it, but neither of them could explain why. They said something made them do it. Made them want to do it. Just before the lights went out. Something they couldn’t control. When it was over, they carried her out onto the front door step and then went to call an ambulance. They said they hadn’t wanted to move her at all because she was so badly hurt, but at the same time they didn’t want to leave her in the house.?

  Kelly didn’t know what to make of it. Why had they been so worried about her after they’d hurt her so badly that she was still in intensive care? After what they’d done with that bottle when they’d finished raping her, stamping on her abdomen, smashing it inside her. She shivered at the thought of the girl’s pain and terror. ?That is strange.?

  Jack Hollingsworth shook his head. ?That isn’t the

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  strange part. You see, there is no electricity at Syracousse. Keery was adamant about that. It was cut off years ago. There’s no way they could have turned on a light. What’s even stranger is that there is no way they could have gotten into the house by the front door either. It takes three keys to open, and they’re all housed at Greenslade’s.?

  Kelly frowned slightly. ?Well, maybe the last time someone went to look it over they forgot to lock up behind them.?

  Her father shook his head. ?No. No one’s been up there in ages anyway, and if that were the case, then why was the door fully locked and untampered with when the ambulance found Sharnice? It just doesn’t make sense. Also, there were fresh cigarette butts on the floor in the old living room to corroborate their story?

  Kelly sighed, and leaned back in her creaking chair. ?They must have been taking something. Maybe they were high. Maybe Lee got his dad to steal the keys or something.?

  Jack raised an eyebrow. ?You’re a policeman’s daughter all right. That’s the theory Keery’s working on, although the father is adamant he didn’t have anything to do with it. But the drug thing is a definite no.?

  ?Why? Did they test them??

  Jack looked weary as he spoke. ?Well, it turned out that the reason they were both so calm was that they’d downed a load of any pills they could get their hands on before going into the station. That’s why they were so eager to make their statements quickly. They both collapsed within a few minutes of each other and had to be rushed to the hospital for stomach pumps. They were tested for illegal substances then, and there was no trace.?

  He stood up to pour himself another cup of tea from the pot. ?So I can’t see why they would have any reason to lie about anything, if they were planning to kill themselves. It wouldn’t fit with the stereotype.?