The Shadows in the Street by Susan Hill Page A

snapshot of her with a dog, younger, darker hair.
    ‘That’s her, deffo. She was on my patch. Naff jacket. Didn’t think she’d stay around.’
    They watched the rest of the news, eating a packet of Jaffa Cakes.
    ‘See, that’s why there’s no punters out there,’ Hayley said, ‘it’s this credit crunch.’
    ‘I flippin’ hope not. Anyway, you’d think there’d be more of them, not less, cheer themselves up.’
    It was as the weather chart came on the screen that it occurred to Abi. ‘That girl,’ she said, ‘that Chantelle with the green jacket.’
    ‘What about her?’
    ‘Only I haven’t seen Marie for over a week.’
    ‘Be her mother playing up again then. Or that dosser Jonty.’
    ‘Maybe.’
    ‘You know she goes off, Abs, she went off before, you remember. Last summer.’
    ‘OK.’ Abi reached for another Jaffa Cake. ‘You’re probably right.’
    ‘I’m always right. I’m right about that flat as well.’
    Abi chucked the empty biscuit packet at her.
    Hayley and Liam left just before nine the next morning.
    ‘Just come and have a look at it, you don’t have to make up your mind, only it’d be great, Abs, think how much more room the kids’d have, think of a proper kitchen. Just come and have a look.’
    But Abi wouldn’t promise anything. She needed to think a lot of things out before she got tempted by looking at any flat and committing herself when she wasn’t ready. Hayley wasn’t dependable. She was still liable to dope herself up and then wouldn’t be fit to work or look after the kids, she was still liable to hitch up with some no-hoper and bring him home. The room Abi lived in was a dump, small, cold, shared toilet and bath and only a corner to cook in, but it was hers, she felt safe in it, and it was cheap. She’d been able to save. She had the kids where she could see them and they were safe as well. Chuck this away to share with Hayley and there’d be a load of what-ifs.
    It was playgroup morning for Frankie. After she’d left him, Abi stood on the corner waiting for the bus to the supermarket. She always went when it was just her and Mia, did her shop and then had breakfast, one good cooked plateful. Mia had bits off hers and an egg of her own. She bought a magazine, Mia went to sleep, she had a second coffee. Happy. Sometimes, sitting in the supermarket café, in the warmth and brightness, people all around her, she felt OK, and when she thought about it, she knew it was because she felt normal. She could be anybody, a mum with a toddler, house to go back to. Not doing what she did. Normal. Only this morning, she suddenly knew she had to do something else. She’d woken half a dozen times in the night and each time it was there, churning round her mind, and when she had slept again it had flitted in and out of her dreams.
    She crossed the road and caught a bus in the opposite direction, then walked. Mia slept. A raw wind snaked towards her bare legs.
    She’d thought it was a short walk but it took twenty-five minutes before she was at the broken gate leading through rough grass into the field. The caravan was on the far side, standing in a patch of mud and nettles. Abi could see the door swinging open. She couldn’t push the buggy over the thick grass and ruts, so she lifted Mia out and carried her.
    There was no sound. She hesitated, then knocked on the open door. But she knew she wouldn’t get any reply, and in the end she just went in, and found the place wrecked, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, table, cupboards, benches, sink, windows, the lot, everything was smashed and splintered and the floor was covered in broken bits of wood and cushions from the bench. The television was upside down, smashed, and plates and cups had been smashed too, there was crockery and glass all over. But nothing else. Nobody. No sign that anyone had even been living here except for a few clothes, pulled out of a cardboard box and piled onto the mess. She recognised a