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THE SCORCHED EARTH • RACHAEL BLOK

November 14th 2019

Who really killed Leo Fenton?

Two years ago, Ben Fenton went camping with his brother Leo. It was the last time they ever saw each other. By the end of that fateful trip, Leo had disappeared, and Ben had been arrested for his murder.

Ben's wife Ana has always protested his innocence. Now, on the hottest day of 2018's sweltering heat wave, she receives a phone call from the police. Leo's body has been found, in a freshly dug grave in her own local churchyard. How did it get there? Who really killed him?

St Albans police, led by DCI Jansen, are soon unpicking a web of lies that shimmers beneath the surface of Ana's well-kept village. But as tensions mount, and the tight-knit community begins to unravel, Ana realises that if she wants to absolve her husband, she must unearth the truth alone.

EXTRACT

Jess knows. The village knows. Everyone knows.

Changing tack, shifting the weight from hip to hip, Jess halts, stands, looking at Ana properly. She fingers the edge of the mop handle gently, dips her eyes down, and her volume. Her fingernails are short, with chipped dark-blue paint, and she wears a black Casio watch, the kind you can buy from the market in town. Ana watches the blink of the screen as the seconds flash by.

‘Now, I know nothing else.’ Jess’s tone is softer. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken. I’m sure it’s… Well, I’m sure whatever it is will clear itself up quickly.’ She catches Ana’s eye and smiles.

Fay Seabrook brings another mug of coffee and presses it into Ana’s hands. ‘Here, love. Sit down. I know what you’re hoping for, but if there’s anything to know, the police will call.’

‘It’s not just me. It’s more if Ben sees it, if it’s on the news before I know anything, and I’d want to be the first one to…’

‘If there’s anything to say,’ her mum breaks in, ‘then the police will say it.’

Ana’s hands shake as she drinks.

‘Another bit of news.’ Jess’s voice breaks in with cleaning, the beats of her speech landing with each sweep of the mop. ‘Fabian Irvine is due back in the village. Flying in from America.’ She breathes America, like it’s made of gold.

Still thinking of the grave, of the body, that it might be… Ana doesn’t feel her mother’s fingers dig into her wrist until the nails meet her skin and the words follow, entering through the hairline indents.

Her mother sits next to her on the window seat, ready to bear her weight, her back straight.

‘Fabian Irvine? Back in Ayot?’ It’s her mother who asks the question. Her grip remains like steel.

‘Not yet. You’re hosting his parents’ anniversary party here, aren’t you?’

Fay nods, slowly. ‘Yes, in a few weeks. They didn’t think Fabian could make it. He’s busy over there, I hear. Got some new single out or something, his mum said. He produces a few big names now. The party is quite small.’

‘Well, I’ve heard he’s booked some tickets as a late surprise. Be good to have him back for a bit. Used to be a flame of yours, I remember?’ This last bit comes with a wink, sent to Ana as an appeasement.

Her mother’s grip is cold and firm. But it keeps her in the room. Keeps her from crying out.

‘It was a while ago, nothing serious.’ Her mother answers for her. Answers lightly.

The heat of the room creeps in, tying its knots.

Lying back, Ana rests her head on the window and allows her eyes to close. Jam comes up and licks her leg. Her dry tongue rasps, warm. And she reaches out, stroking what remains of her silky blonde hair.

The coffee sits untouched as she thinks of Fabian Irvine in one sharp breath, and of Ben in the other, waking to the news of an unidentified body discovered in an unmarked grave.

The heat of the dry sun has made its way into the bar. Its blanket smothers her.