Girl A
Dan Scottow
Copyright © 2021 Dan Scottow
The right of Dan Scottow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Print ISBN 978-1-913942-38-0
Contents
Love crime, thriller and mystery books?
Also by Dan Scottow
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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Also by Dan Scottow
Damaged
For my Dad. Trying every day to make you proud.
Prologue July 1985, Perry Barr, Birmingham, England.
Meandering through the crowd, Wendy Noakes has a broad smile on her face, and Billy’s tiny hand in her own. The warm early-evening sun beats down on her bare shoulders. People are out in droves for a visiting summer fair. Billy is too young for the rides, but he wanted to come. Wendy’s husband is at home. He couldn’t be bothered with it all. Noisy crowds and screaming teenagers are not his thing. But Wendy doesn’t care. These are the memories that Billy will look back fondly on when he’s older. It’s a shame that Doug isn’t here, but at least Billy will remember his mother at the fair, in the sunshine. Perhaps he will recall her backless white linen sundress, with the three large wooden buttons on the front, or the pink plastic slides in her long sandy-blonde hair. Maybe not. But hopefully he will remember tonight.
Brightly coloured balloons are tied up in bunches all around them. The ghost train rattles on its tracks, cutting over the rest of the noise. Laughter and the odd scream bellow out from all directions, as kids and adults alike scare themselves silly on the rides. There is a clatter as a pile of cans is knocked over somewhere close by.
Billy giggles.
Wendy looks down at her beautiful son. His blond, almost white, hair curling at the ends. Doug says Billy needs a haircut, but Wendy wants to let it grow. He looks so adorable in his blue-and-white stripy T-shirt, and denim shorts with turn-ups, finished with a little pair of brown sandals. Her heart melts as she looks at him, and he beams back at her. The sickly-sweet smell of sugar and popcorn drifts into Wendy’s nostrils, and she smiles again, crouching down beside Billy.
‘Would you like to try some candyfloss?’ Wendy asks him.
Billy looks confused. He doesn’t know what Wendy means, so she points to the pink fluffy mass that a child nearby is gobbling up greedily. Billy smiles and nods. Wendy straightens up, and they walk hand in hand to the food stall. A spotty teenager behind the counter looks towards Wendy and she holds up two fingers, nodding at the candyfloss maker. Billy giggles again as the girl winds the sugary strands around a wooden stick. Wendy can’t stop grinning as her son sees the joy of candyfloss for the first time in his life. As she watches, she hears a voice from her left-hand side.
‘Wendy?’
She turns her head and sees an old classmate from school approaching. Becky, or Brenda, she can’t remember, and bites her lip in embarrassment. They were never particularly close. The woman grins as she marches towards the food stall.
‘Wendy Boyce? I thought it was you. How the devil are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks. It’s Wendy Noakes now. How are you? I’ve not seen you since…’ She trails off, hoping the woman will fill in the blanks.
She obliges instantly.
‘Leavers’ dance! Can you believe it’s been twelve years? I didn’t know you were still living around here. I never see you about.’
Wendy blushes and smiles as she thinks about that night, a long time ago.
The awful bubblegum-pink dress she wore.
She looks down at the grass.
From behind the counter, the server holds out the two sticks of candyfloss, breaking the awkward silence that has ensued.
‘That’ll be three quid, please,’ the girl shouts over the noise of the fair. Wendy lets go of Billy’s hand, rummaging around in her purse for the change. She hands it over and takes the treats, turning back to Becky, or Brenda. Or is it Bella?
‘No. I moved away for a little while, into London. My mother was unwell last year, so my husband and I came back to be closer to her.’
‘Oh, what a shame. How is your mum now?’
‘Yes, she’s much better, thanks. So… what about you?’
Wendy doesn’t care, but she was raised to be polite.
The woman reaches up and fans out her hand, wiggling her fingers excitedly to show a plain gold wedding band.
‘Chris and I got married… no surprises there, I suppose. He’s over on that horrible ride.’ She points at a huge machine, spinning carriages of people around, high into the air. ‘No, thank you! So me and Chris Junior here are getting some treats, aren’t we, hun?’ A plump boy a
