‘Cassie!’ Molly yelled out as she got close. ‘Where are you?’

There was no reply, but Molly noticed the side door wasn’t shut properly, only pulled to, the way someone might leave a door if they were indoors or had just popped out for a minute.

Molly had been brought up to respect other people’s homes. When she was delivering groceries, she would never walk into someone’s kitchen uninvited. Cassie had often teased her about the way she always hovered on the doorstep, even if the door was wide open, never stepping over the threshold until she was asked in. In this case, though, it was unlikely Cassie was outside in the rain and, furthermore, Molly had a slight feeling of unease, which made her push the door open a little further and call out again, louder this time.

No reply. All Molly could hear was dripping rainwater and the wind in the trees. She couldn’t see much through the partly open door, as there was an old sofa covered in a multi-coloured crocheted blanket with its back to the kitchen area. It struck her that she’d never known Cassie go out before without locking the door, even though nearly everyone in the village left theirs unlocked. But then Cassie had come from London, and it was said people were very different there.

Putting aside her usual reservations in the interests of leaving the party food in a dry place for Petal, Molly pushed the door open further and went in, placing the box on the uncleared table.

The first thing she noticed was Petal’s Britannia costume on a coat hanger on a hook on the stairs, the silver-coloured helmet gleaming brightly. Judging by the bread, plates with crumbs, teapot and two dirty cups on the table, something or someone had interrupted Cassie before she could clear the table. As Molly walked past the sofa into the main part of the room, she saw Cassie on the floor and screamed involuntarily.

She was sprawled, on her back, one leg slightly twisted. Her head was on the hearth and her blood had spilled out across it on to the floorboards in a shiny, dark-red pool.

Molly clamped her hands over her mouth to stop her scream and stared in absolute horror, not really believing what she was seeing. This was something which happened in films, not in real life. And, although she had never seen a corpse before, she felt absolutely certain Cassie was dead.

She was wearing the old floral print dress she wore most days and she still had a few curlers in her red hair, as if she’d been in the process of taking them out. Her arms were splayed out and her blue eyes were wide open.

‘Cassie, Cassie, what happened?’ said Molly, dropping down to her knees and taking her friend’s wrist to feel for a pulse. Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked when she found no none. Cassie’s skin felt very cold, too, so whatever it was must have happened some time ago. She knew she had to run to get the police, but horror rooted her to the spot.

She’d had so many laughs and in-depth conversations here in this cottage. Through Cassie, she’d learned so much about the world outside this village – about people, books, art and music. So many evenings with Petal sitting on her lap reading to her, or playing board games. Cassie was, without doubt, the best friend Molly had ever had, but more than that, too: she was her teacher, confidante and soulmate.

Then, all at once, it occurred to her that Petal wasn’t here.

Where was she?

Petal was a shy child, nervous of people until she got to know them, and Molly had never known her to stray far from her mother’s side. But, surely, if she’d seen her mother fall and all that blood spurting out, she would have run for help?

‘Petal!’ she called out. ‘It’s me, Auntie Molly. It’s okay, I’m here now, and you’ll be safe.’

But when there was no reply, not even a little whimper of distress, a dreadful thought crossed Molly’s mind.

Was Cassie attacked and Petal so terrified that she ran to hide?

Molly forced herself to act, running up the narrow stairs to look in the bedroom. She was distraught, tears almost blinding her. Her whole being wanted to run away from this scene; she couldn’t deal with it.

There was a double bed at one end of the room and a small single at the other. Both were neatly made, and Cassie’s new red-and-white dress was lying on the double bed ready for her to put on. But Petal wasn’t there. Molly looked under the bed, but there was nowhere else Petal could hide herself.

She went back down the stairs and checked the child wasn’t hiding in the privy or the woodshed, calling loudly, even though her voice was croaking with emotion. But there was nothing, not a rustle of leaves or a crack of a twig, to break the quiet in the woods.

Molly’s stomach heaved and she vomited again and again into some undergrowth. Nothing in her life so far had prepared her for something as bad as this and, somehow, the fact it had taken place on a day the whole country was celebrating their new queen being crowned made it far, far worse.

‘The police,’ she said aloud, and forced herself to straighten up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘No time to lose.’ Staggering, and with the heavy rain mingling with the tears streaming down her cheeks, she began to make her way back up the muddy track to her bike.

CHAPTER TWO

Molly fled up the rutted lane to the road. It was hard going through the mud, so she climbed up on to the bank and forced her way through the bushes. On reaching the top, she jumped on her bicycle and freewheeled through the rain all the way down to the village, barely able to see for tears.

The high street was deserted but she could hear children in the village hall singing ‘The Farmer’s in His Den’. When she reached the police station she flung her bike down outside and ran in.

PC George Walsh was on duty behind the counter.

‘What on earth?’ he exclaimed when he saw her. She was soaked through, wild-haired and crying. He lifted the counter top and came through to her, holding out his arms. ‘Has someone attacked you, Molly?’

They had been at school together from the age of five, and George now belonged to the same drama group she did. She liked him a great deal, not just because he was nice-looking, with grey eyes and curly brown hair, but because he could always made her laugh, and he was sensitive.

‘I’ve just found Cassie March dead,’ she blurted out. ‘And Petal is missing! I can’t find her.’

George caught hold of her elbows and moved her away from him so he could see her face. His eyes were wide with shock. ‘Cassandra? Dead? Where did you find her?’

Molly sobbed out what she’d seen, and George put his arms back around her, holding her to his shoulder. ‘I’ll have to report this to the sergeant, and he’ll have to get on to the DI. We’re a few men down, with the Coronation and all. I’ll be a few minutes. Will you be all right on your own for a bit?’

‘Yes, of course. Thank goodness it was you on duty and not someone I don’t know,’ she said, trying to brush away her tears. ‘You will find Petal? She’s only six.’

‘As soon as I’ve reported it, a search will be started. I’ll get you a cup of tea,’ he said, went back behind the counter and disappeared through a door.

It occurred to Molly as she sat on the bench waiting that most girls of her age and in these circumstances would run across the road to their parents for comfort and support.

Heywoods grocery shop was right opposite the police station, and from the sitting room above the shop her parents might have seen her running in here, or spotted her bicycle outside. But, even if they had seen, they wouldn’t come over. Her mother would want to, but her father would sniff and say, ‘If she’s in trouble, she can get herself out of it.’