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cupboard, grabbing a box of cereal.

Returning to his seat, he picked pieces from the carton, throwing them into his mouth.

‘My God, Peter. What is wrong with you today? Can you use a bowl, please?’

Peter sighed loudly, slamming the box onto the counter, folding his arms across his chest. He eyed his mother from beneath his shaggy fringe.

‘Zoe is away on a geography field trip. I’ve got no way of contacting her without my phone,’ he said.

‘Right. Don’t you know her number?’

‘Mum, do you know how a mobile phone works? It’s not the dark ages. You don’t actually have to dial a number anymore. You just press the person’s name.’

‘Okay. You’ll have to wait until she’s home then, won’t you?’

‘But she’s away for ages!’

Peter unfolded his arms, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

‘I’m sorry, Peter, I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m not the one who lost your phone.’

He tutted overdramatically.

‘I didn’t lose it.’

Beth stood up. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with a stroppy teenager.

‘Okay, Peter. The fairies must have taken it. Maybe write a letter to Santa Claus and ask him to tell them to bring it back.’

As she turned and walked away, she heard Peter’s stool scrape across the tiled kitchen floor.

‘Whatever,’ he shouted petulantly.

‘Yes, whatever.’ Beth held up her hands in surrender.

‘Can I get a lift to school?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I had an accident last night and I don’t really want to drive the car until it’s fixed. Daisy has already been picked up by Sarah’s mum. I’m getting a lift in with Margot and the car is being collected by the garage tomorrow. It shouldn’t take long for them to fix it, but until then you’ll have to get the bus.’

‘Great!’ Peter shouted as he stormed past Beth, into the hallway. ‘I hate my life!’

‘Yes, Peter, your life is absolutely terrible. You’re the first teenager in history who has had to get the bus to school, aren’t you?’

‘Most other teenagers don’t live in a shitty old farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Right. If you hate it so much you can move out, can’t you.’

‘I wish.’

The sound of a horn from outside halted their conversation. As Beth headed out the front door, she shouted to Peter to remember to lock up when he left.

Margot’s silver TT was sitting in the drive. Beth jumped into the passenger seat. She caught Margot staring at her mangled Range Rover. She turned to Beth, her mouth hanging open.

‘Don’t,’ Beth said firmly. Margot nodded and drove away from the house.

24 June 1985, Perry Barr, Birmingham, England.

They sat staring at the animal for at least ten minutes.

Kitty drew her hand across her eyes, wiping the tears onto her white lacy skirt.

‘It’ll be okay,’ Kieran said softly.

‘I didn’t want to hurt it,’ Kitty said through her sobs.

Kieran picked up the cat. Its body was still warm.

Kitty looked away. She didn’t want to see it.

Intestines were hanging from its belly.

‘Look at it,’ Kieran said. ‘It’s so weird.’

‘I don’t want to!’ Kitty shrieked.

‘Kitty, look!’

‘No.’

‘Look at what we did!’

Kieran thrust the dead animal under Kitty’s face. She screamed, turning away, but he grabbed her arm with one hand.

‘Touch it,’ he said, laughing.

Kitty screwed her eyes shut tightly and heard Kieran walking away from her, his feet trudging across gravel. She opened them in time to see him toss the cat like a piece of litter into the bushes at the side of the path. He came running back towards her, wiping blood from his hands down his muddy jeans.

‘It was a stray. It wasn’t wearing a collar,’ Kieran said, placing his arm around Kitty’s shoulder. A huge smile spread over his face.

Kitty didn’t reply. She fiddled with the hem of her dress.

‘It doesn’t matter. It was just a stray.’

Kitty looked down at the floor.

‘My Daddy hurt Smudge, you know. Last night.’

Kieran didn’t reply. He glanced at the giant purple bruises on Kitty’s arms.

‘I buried him in the garden. He was my baby.’

Kieran still didn’t reply. He looked confused.

Sometimes Kitty thought she understood more things than Kieran did. And he was much older than her.

Kitty kicked at the dry dirt on the path, covering over the patch of blood.

‘Are you sure it was a stray?’

‘Yeah. No collar. Would’ve had a collar on if it’d been someone’s pet. Probably a wild cat.’

‘There’s no wild cats.’

‘There are too. My mum told me. They’re all over England.’

Kitty bit her bottom lip. She never knew if what Kieran was saying was true. She hadn’t ever heard about wild cats.

Kieran turned and walked away down the path.

‘Come on.’

Kitty ran after him. ‘Where we goin’?’ she asked.

‘Have you ever been to the old hotel on the other side of the woods?’ Kieran asked excitedly.

‘No. What hotel?’

‘It’s closed now. All blocked up. But there’s a few boards you can get through and go inside. It’s really cool.’

Kitty didn’t respond. She simply followed a few steps behind Kieran, like a little shadow.

They walked for a long time, the summer heat beating down on their heads. Kitty wished she had a drink with her, but she didn’t complain.

She’d learned not to.

Eventually they arrived at a huge old building.

The structure loomed menacingly, way up into the sky. Chipboard covered the doors and windows. Parts of the roof were missing. They looked all black and burned. The bushes around the carcase were overgrown, but Kitty could tell this place had once been beautiful.

Now it felt sad.

And scary.

‘There was a fire here years ago. Loads of people burned to death.’

Kitty wrapped her arms around her small body. Despite the heat from the sun, she shivered.

‘No they didn’t.’

‘They did too. My mum says it’s haunted and I shouldn’t go in there,’ Kieran continued, a menacing grin on his face.

‘Give over!’ Kitty shouted.

‘It’s true. If you’re here at night, you’ll see the ghost of Bloody Mary. She’ll walk up behind you and tap you on the shoulder.’

‘You’re such a liar, Kieran!’

‘It’s true.’

‘My mum says there’s no such thing as ghosts.’

‘Your mum is full of shit.’

Kitty stopped

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