children rarely has a single identifiable cause,’ she said. ‘Anything pertaining to the Fletchers’ new environment could have acted as a trigger, woken up some dormant condition inside Tom. It would be really helpful to know what that trigger was.’
‘Is this where I come in?’ he asked her, glancing up.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re new here too. You’re probably in a better position than anyone to spot a possible catalyst. Can you think of anything?’
Harry took his time. Could he think of anything? The Fletcher family had moved to a town that hadn’t welcomed newcomers for over ten years and where ritual slaughter was an excuse for a good night out. Where whispers came scurrying out of nowhere. And where someone poured pig’s blood into a Communion chalice. Could he think of anything? Would he know when to stop?
‘This is an unusual town,’ he said at last. ‘People here have a way of doing things that’s all their own.’
‘Can you give me any examples?’ Evi had opened a small notepad and held a pencil between the fingers of her left hand. The hair on the right side of her head had been tucked behind one ear. Such a tiny ear. With a ruby stud.
‘The first day I came here I saw the two boys being menaced by a local gang,’ he said. ‘Slightly older boys. Some of them teenagers.’
‘On bikes?’ she asked quickly.
Puzzled, Harry shook his head. ‘Not at the time. Although I have since seen one or two of them riding around on bikes. They can certainly move at speed when they put their mind to it. And they’re agile. I’m sure I’ve seen figures climbing around among the abbey ruins, even on the church roof. We haven’t been able to prove it but we’re pretty certain they were responsible for what happened to Millie Fletcher a couple of weeks ago.’
‘And they were threatening Tom and Joe, that first day?’
Harry nodded. ‘They broke a church window, tried to put the blame on the boys.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time a close-knit community turned on outsiders,’ said Evi. ‘How have people here been with you?’
Harry thought about it for a second. ‘Well, on the face of it, quite friendly. There are some nice people here. But there have been strange things happening.’ He stopped. Did he want to tell Evi about the whispers he heard in the church? About what someone had tricked him into drinking? That a house of God scared him? ‘Nothing I really want to go into,’ he went on, ‘but it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that someone with a rather malicious sense of humour had been trying to frighten the boys.’
‘That’s it.’ Evi was leaning forward in her chair. ‘That’s what I sense from Tom. Fear.’
A silver chain around her neck was glinting in the soft light of the vestry.
‘What’s he afraid of?’ Harry asked.
‘Normally when a child is afraid, we look close to home for the source,’ replied Evi, ‘but there’s no indication that Tom is afraid of his family.’
She was wearing make-up, which she hadn’t been when he’d met her previously. He hadn’t realized quite how beautiful she was.
‘We have a test,’ she was saying. ‘We call it the desert-island test. We ask the child to imagine he’s on a desert island, way out in the middle of the sea, miles away from everything and completely safe. And we ask him to choose one person to be on the island with him. Who would he choose, out of all the people in the world?’
You, thought Harry, I think I might just choose you. ‘What did Tom say?’ he asked.
‘He said Millie. His little sister. When he was asked to choose a second person he chose his mum. Then his dad.’
‘Not Joe?’
‘Joe was his fourth choice. I did the same test with Joe. He said the same thing. Millie first, his mum and dad next, then Tom.’
‘Interesting that they both picked Millie.’
Evi dropped her eyes and turned a page of her notebook. Her dark hair swung down, covering her face. She turned another page and found what she was looking for. ‘Then Joe said something that really puzzled me,’ she continued, glancing back up at Harry. ‘He said, would there be a church on the island, because if there was, he didn’t think Millie should go.’
The radiator didn’t seem to be working as well as it had been. Harry felt his fingers growing cold. They died, didn’t they? The little girls in the church.