Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (primary phonics .txt) 📕

Sam shrugged. ‘We’re here now, so we might as well try.’

They wandered along the pathway, trying to identify trees from an old press photograph. In the shot, two uniformed policemen guarded a taped off barrier. There was nothing more in the picture. No forensic experts on their knees. No corpse in a black bag. Kitty was not sure it was even the site of the murder. It might simply have been where Twitch ended up. They kept their gazes on the horizon, searching for a cedar tree in the background. It looked as if it would be tall, although its top was way outside the shot.

‘There.’ Sam pointed across the lake. ‘Is that it?’

They dodged bicycles and dogs and were soon in a quieter part of the lake, away from the attractions. Kitty held the picture up and every so often the two halted and looked at the scenery. But it was hopeless. Too long ago. Bushes would now be trees or even have been removed for new landscaping.

Nearer the cedar tree, a narrow track led between the undergrowth towards the water. It might have matched the picture a little, so they ploughed through the vegetation. The smell of pine and leaf mould rose from the undergrowth and they stepped over roots and ducked beneath flailing bramble stems. Soon, they emerged into an earthy clearing, with the lake lapping at its edge. Kitty gazed out over its surface. Mallards and Moorhens bobbed about, and terns wheeled overhead. In the water to their left, a protruding log provided a perch for two Cormorants, their wings held loosely open and their backs soaking up the warmth of the low sun. A scattering of ducks spotted Kitty and Sam and glided towards them, each trailing a triangular wash. Kitty pulled the remains of a sandwich from her rucksack and they stood on the bank throwing pieces of crust at the dabbling crew. The birds’ feet wafted fronds of water weed into swirling eddies.

‘Look at the pattern of the weeds and the ripples.’ Sam took a photo on his phone.

Kitty was analysing her surroundings in a more investigative manner. Fifteen ducks. The lake, possibly a hundred yards across. Trees, one cedar, several scots pines, some natural box and in the undergrowth, bracken. A cigarette packet wedged into the cleft of a tree made her think of Paul. A can of beer and a used condom discarded by the water suggesting a lovers’ hideaway. In the water, some sticks; thrown for a dog? Below the surface: weed fronds that waved and snaked in the current created by the now departing ducks. She watched the weed, with a feeling that it reminded her of something. Then she realised what.

‘Sam.’ She gripped his arm. ‘Look at the weed.’

‘I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘No, you idiot, look at it.’

32 ANWEN

Anwen held tight to her MacBook Air. It had cost a significant sum, and there had been an atmosphere at home since its arrival. She followed Kitty into her long living room where, on the dining table, a festoon of papers surrounded Kitty’s own laptop. On the screen was a picture of a motorbike, and as Anwen watched, the image faded to be replaced by a grinning puppy with a curly, grey coat and an endearing tuft on the top of its head.

‘That’s Topsy,’ said Kitty. ‘She was my dog when I was a child - my dad bought her for me. She was a puppy in that picture, but she got huge.’

A portrait of a formidable black woman in flat shoes and a straight skirt, followed.

‘Nanny Gloria,’ Kitty said. ‘She brought us all up.’

‘All?’ Anwen had thought Kitty an only child.

‘Me, Sam, Josh, Lucas and Olivia. Our mums all died, and our dads had to work. Nanny Gloria was Mick’s mother - Luc and Olivia’s Grandma.’

Anwen had seen all those people at the party, and among them a mixed-race pair who must have been Lucas and Olivia. ‘Was she strict?’

‘Yeah. But kind too.’ Kitty changed the subject. ‘How have you settled in at school?’

‘Not that well.’ Anwen put down her laptop and sat in the armchair. She scraped her nail along the fabric. ‘I’m behind with everything. I didn’t always go to school before.’ She looked up at Kitty. ‘Have you heard about my mam and dad?’

‘A bit. My dad told me they used to lock you up.’

Anwen nodded. ‘Yeah. Mam thought she was doing the right thing, being hard on me and hitting me, but Cerys says it was abuse. She says I should have fun and be happy.’ Her eyes welled with tears. ‘I didn’t know being happy would be so difficult. I wish I could leave, but Cerys says going to school’s important for my future.’

Kitty reached for a dining chair and turned it to sit in front of Anwen. She stretched across to still the girl’s fiddling hand. ‘Everything’s new at the moment. Give it time.’

Anwen bunched the hand into a fist. ‘I don’t want to give it time,’ she said, bouncing it into her lap. ‘I don’t understand why people don’t like me.’ She looked through her tears at Kitty’s blurred face.

‘Sadly, people don’t always understand that you’re only different because you’ve had different experiences.’

Anwen pulled a tissue from her sleeve and wiped her nose.

Kitty said, ‘I had a few problems at school because I didn’t have a mum. But in time, they passed. Cerys is doing her best to be a mum for you, like Nanny Gloria was for us.’

Anwen nodded. ‘I am grateful, but it’s hard. I sometimes wish I was back in Wales. Life’s easier when you’re on your own.’

With a puff, Kitty stood up. ‘You’re right, but life is more tolerable overall if we learn to cope with folk. Keep going, and one day you’ll have