Page 47 of Don't Believe A Word

‘Is that the stile mentioned in Lottie’s story?’ she asked. ‘The one Mia saw someone running away from?’

He seemed confused. ‘I didn’t know about that,’ he replied, ‘I was just pointing out the footpath that you can see in the grass that runs from the stile to the beach. It’s almost certainly the one that was used to get Sadie there.’

Following the barely visible tilting of the long grass to where the invisible trail disappeared behind a tangle of hawthorn to end on the gravelly shoreline, so bleak and uninviting in spite of the sunny day, Cristy tried to imagine leaving one of her children there, at any age, and shuddered at the horror of it. How desperate Janina must have been to do such a thing to her two-year-old daughter, presuming she was the one who’d left her, and it was hard now to imagine that she wasn’t.

‘She presumably retreated to the stile to watch until the sisters came to the child’s rescue,’ she said. ‘Lottie wrote about Mia seeing someone … How could Janina be sure the little girl would be found?’

‘I don’t suppose she could,’ he replied, ‘but if she was watching she’d have known if the child was in any danger.’

‘How on earth did she get her down there without being seen?’

‘Well, the house isn’t visible from here, and there’s nowhere else around, so actually there was no one to see her.’

‘So she somehow managed to get her child to stay there alone and wait … It’s beyond heartbreaking to think of how confused and frightened she must have been. Both of them, actually, mother and daughter.’

‘Maybe it’s a measure of how afraid Janina was.’

Nodding agreement, she said, ‘We need to record what we’ve just said.’

Minutes later, with their surmising captured, she kept rolling as they walked on towards a curve in the path. It was strange how moved she was now feeling about being here, as if time was warping in some undefinable way to make her footsteps connect with those of long ago. Janina would have walked this path, would have known what was ahead, if not in her life, then at theend of this trail … If she’d been in her mid-twenties back then, by now she’d be the same age as Cristy, and thinking of the older Janina made Cristy feel somehow closer to her.

Robert stopped alongside some steps carved into the hillside, pointing ahead and speaking quietly, almost as if not wanting to wake ghosts.

ROBERT: ‘There it is. It’s been much improved since the sisters were here, but this is the place they rented for the summer of 2000.’

Remembering that she needed to describe it for listeners, Cristy lifted her collar mic closer to her mouth.

CRISTY: ‘It’s a long, low stone-built house with a steep red-tiled roof, a porched front door looking along the track towards us, and there’s a large wooden terrace facing the sea. Someone seems to be at home – there’s smoke rising from one of the chimneys – and I can just make out a car through the greenery at the back. Is there a road? I guess there has to be.’

ROBERT: ‘It’s a narrow lane that runs kind of parallel with the path we’re on, and eventually takes you down to the Old Quay.’

CRISTY: ‘Which is where we parked? So we could have driven here?’

Robert arched an eyebrow.

Rolling her eyes Cristy went back to her study of the house, trying to imagine the sisters coming and going, Lottie descending the field on her way to rescue Sadie, bringing the child back up again and handing her to Mia …

CRISTY: ‘I wonder if it’s worth asking someone inside if they remember the Winters sisters?’

ROBERT: ‘It’ll be a long shot if it’s still a holiday let.’

CRISTY: ‘But who comes here on holiday at this time of year?’

ROBERT: ‘Maybe the people inside … One of whom is coming to find out why we’re not climbing higher up on the path to continue our walk.’

With the recorder still running, Cristy walked forward to meet the portly man whose bushy moustache and ruddy face marked him out as a drinker, and probably a hunter.

‘Can I help you with something?’ he called out before reaching her.

CRISTY: ‘I was just remarking what a lovely spot this is. Do you mind me asking if you live here?’

PORTLY MAN: ‘We just rent it during the season.’

Ah, a hunter!

CRISTY: ‘Not stags, I hope, or foxes.’

PORTLY MAN: ‘You one of the saboteur lot, are you? If so, we don’t want any trouble. There’s no law-breaking going on around here, and we don’t welcome trespassers.’

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