LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘I’ve driven over it,’ Gwen said, adding silently: And, a lifetime ago, I snogged Cameron Laing underneath it.

      Lily slid her a sideways look. ‘But have you really looked at it?’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘You’ll see,’ Lily said with satisfaction.

      Gwen breathed in, enjoying the crisp autumnal air, the sunlight that lit the trees into beacons of flame. Within minutes, the roads narrowed and they entered the town centre. ‘Some of the buildings are medieval – like the Tithe Barn,’ Lily said, pointing down a side street. ‘That’s a big attraction.’

      A queue of cars inched slowly down Silver Street, spoiling the olde worlde effect somewhat.

      Lily saw Gwen looking and said, ‘We weren’t built for cars, that’s for sure.’ She spoke as if the town were alive.

      ‘Mmm.’ Having walked down the winding street, balancing on the cobbles and narrowly avoiding pitching into a silver sedan, Gwen stopped outside a small shop called The Crystal Cave. It was filled with crystal balls, decks of tarot cards, and a tabby cat. It was the kind of place Gloria loved to browse in for hours and she breathed in, half-expecting the scent of incense to permeate the street.

      ‘It’s for the tourists,’ Lily sniffed. ‘Wiltshire is known for its ancient stones, ley lines and mystical energy.’

      Gwen didn’t ask what a fake crystal ball had to do with a prehistoric stone circle.

      ‘It’s silly really,’ Lily said.

      Gwen hadn’t been paying proper attention, but now she realised that Lily was watching her carefully. ‘Silly,’ she said, hoping that agreeing with Lily would make her stop staring at her in that unnerving way. She added, ‘Harmless, though.’

      ‘One woman’s cupcake is another’s shit sandwich,’ Lily replied.

      ‘Pardon?’

      Lily gave her a calculating look. ‘That’s what your aunt always said. She said it was impossible to do no harm. One hungry family’s roast dinner is the sad demise of a chicken.’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘She was full of them. Said everything was a war and that there could only be one winner.’

      The cold air was making Gwen’s nose run and she pulled out a tissue. She was getting the creeping sensation that she might not have liked her aunt very much. Question was: should that make her feel more or less guilty about inheriting from her?

      ‘Look…’ Lily pointed down the street. ‘There’s the roundhouse.’

      At one end of the bridge was a round stone structure. Its shape was a cross between a minaret and a beehive and there was an ornately carved fish mounted on the roof.

      ‘The bridge is thirteenth century, but the roundhouse was added in the eighteenth. It was used as a lock-up for drunkards and criminals.’

      ‘There’s a fish on the roof,’ Gwen said. She was working on automatic pilot, her voice handling conversation while her brain concentrated on ignoring the river rushing under the bridge.

      Lily nodded. ‘A gudgeon. Round here we still say “over the water and under the fish” when we mean in jail.’

      ‘That’s colourful.’

      ‘Oh yes. We’ve got colour coming out of our arses round here,’ Lily said and walked onwards, her heels clicking on the pavement.

      Gwen stamped down on her rising panic. She’d spent so long squashing all thoughts of Stephen Knight that she wasn’t prepared for the assault of memories. He’d been a funny-looking boy. One of those awkward teens that look both younger and older than their age all at once. A baby face that somehow carried the gruff, sun-burned features of his farming parents at the same time. Until they fished him out of the river, of course. Then he’d looked exactly, tragically, his sixteen years.

      They reached the main shopping street. A steeply sloping affair, lined with self-consciously pretty painted wooden fronts and chichi window displays. It was all much more upmarket than Gwen remembered.

      ‘What do you need to do?’ Lily was showing no signs of leaving and Gwen couldn’t think of a polite way to extricate herself.

      ‘Um. Post office?’

      ‘At the bottom of the road, turn left. It’s next to the Co-op.’

      Lily paused, a sly look flashed across her face and then disappeared. ‘You should go and see the green. It’s a little further along the river.’

      ‘Okay.’

      ‘And the Red Lion does bar meals if you fancy a bite.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Gwen shifted her weight, preparing to walk away.

      ‘It’s haunted, mind, but I’m sure that won’t bother you.’

      Gwen forced a laugh. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

      ‘Quite right. It’s probably dreamed up as a lure for the tourists.’

      Despite herself, Gwen asked, ‘What is?’

      ‘Ghost of Jane Morely. She was tried as a witch on the green outside the pub.’

      Lily’s stare had become disturbingly intense and Gwen decided the best policy was a polite smile.

      ‘It’s in the town records if you don’t believe me. She was executed in 1675. They strangled her and burned her.’

      ‘Better than the other way around, I suppose.’

      Lily looked at her sharply. ‘I would prefer neither, myself.’

      ‘Well, yes,’ Gwen stumbled. How did she end up in a conversation about preferred methods of execution? ‘Obviously.’ She stepped aside to let a woman laden with shopping bags pass. The woman stopped, turned, and retraced her steps. ‘Excuse me? Aren’t you Gwen Harper?’

      ‘Um. Yes.’

      ‘You’ve just moved into the big house, haven’t you?’

      ‘Sorry?’ Gwen felt panicky, as if she were in the middle of an exam that she hadn’t revised for.

      ‘Off Bath Road? End House, is it?’ The woman had a thoroughly freckled face topped with a teal beret.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’m Amanda. I’m in number twelve on the main road. We’re neighbours.’ She shifted her clutch of carrier bags from one hand to the other. ‘I’m so sorry we haven’t been by to welcome you. We’ve all had the sickness bug that’s going around.’

      ‘Oh don’t worry,’ Gwen said. Then there was a pause, so she added, ‘It’s fine.’

      After another, lengthening, silence, Gwen realised that Amanda was waiting for something. With a flash of understanding, Gwen dragged up the words, ‘You’re very welcome to pop by any time. Come for tea.’

      Amanda smiled. People were too happy in this place. It was unnerving.

      ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

      Gwen stared at Amanda’s wide grey eyes and freckled skin, something tickling the back of her mind, and then it came to her. ‘Biology,’ she said, just as Amanda said, ‘We were in sixth form together.’

      ‘God. I’m sorry. It’s been ages. How are you?’ Gwen was struggling to reconcile this slightly matronly-looking woman with the sullen teenager she only vaguely remembered. Biology, like most of her classes, was a bit of a blur. She’d been dreaming her way through her A levels, thinking only about Cam and when she was next seeing him. Your basic teenage cliché, she now realised.

      Lily stood frozen, her face a mask.

      ‘I’m

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