Girls Don't Cry

GIRLS DON’T CRY PETER KESTERTON Copyright © 2023 Peter Kesterton The right of Peter Kesterton to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published in 2023 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: 978-1-5040-8329-4 Contents Love best-selling fiction? 1. Boggart Hill, Bristol 2. Studio flat, Westcliffe 3. Appletree Avenue, Swindon 4. The pier, Westcliffe 5. Appletree Avenue 6. Tesco Express, Westcliffe High Street 7. Pennywell City Farm, Bristol 8. Ocean View Residential Hotel 9. The Pines, outskirts of Bristol 10. Westcliffe Pierhead 11. Bluebell Heights, Chippenham 12. Studio flat, Belsize Gardens, Westcliffe 13. Pennywell Trading Estate, Bristol 14. The Promenade, Westcliffe 15. Appletree Avenue 16. Belsize Gardens, Westcliffe 17. Appletree Avenue 18. Ocean View Residential Hotel 19. HMP Thornhill, Gloucestershire 20. Westcliffe High Street 21. Little Slaughterford, the Cotswolds 22. CoffeeTime, Westcliffe High Street 23. Dream Inn, Shepherds Bush, London 24. Esso Service Station, Westcliffe Bypass 25. Parkside Hotel, Yeovil 26. Garland Avenue, Westcliffe 27. Boggart Hill, Pennywell 28. Belsize Gardens, Westcliffe 29. Woodside Garden Centre, Swindon 30. Garland Avenue, Westcliffe 31. Ropeway Café, Pennywell Industrial Estate. Bristol 32. Regal Cinema, Westcliffe 33. Lyme Regis, Devon 34. CoffeeTime, Westcliffe 35. ‘The English Riviera’, Devon 36. Victoria Park, Westcliffe 37. Grand Hotel 38. Studio flat, Belsize Gardens, Westcliffe 39. Atlantic Hotel, Westcliffe 40. Battery Point, Westcliffe 41. Battery Point 42. Battery Point 43. Westcliff District Hospital 44. Boggart Hill, Bristol 45. Service station, A4174, Bristol 46. Meadow Farm Housing Estate, Swindon 47. Appletree Avenue 48. Darren’s garage 49. Darren’s bathroom 50. Bearland, Gloucester You will also enjoy: About the Author A note from the publisher Love best-selling fiction? Love best-selling fiction? Sign up today to be the first to hear about new releases and exclusive offers, including free and discounted ebooks! Why not like us or follow us on social media to stay up to date with the latest news from your favourite authors? Facebook Twitter Instagram To my wife, Adriane ONE Boggart Hill, Bristol Darren stopped to gaze at the lone tree at the top of the grassy slope. Hanging among its slender yellowing leaves were mementos of a once happy life. Toy Dinosaurs. He’d placed them up there ten years ago. Time had weathered and washed the plastic so they were now pastel echoes of the original primary reds, greens and blues, but he was pleased to find that they were still there. Boggart Hill was a lonely spot and his sense of isolation all the more acute because this patch of land was only a mile or so from the city centre. A forgotten corner caught between the railway and the grimy inner-city streets. Back down the hill was the metal chain-link fence he’d pushed through a few moments ago. Beyond the fence, a row of squat Victorian terraced houses, but from up here he could see over the roofs to the high-rise buildings near the city centre. A siren echoed off the office blocks that loomed like tombstones in the haze. He felt for the letter in his jacket pocket. It had arrived that morning after Kerry went to work. His plan was to keep it unopened until this evening so that good or bad, he and Kerry could face whatever it said together. But filled with an irrational fear that it might get lost, he tucked it inside his jacket pocket and headed off to work. He was working on a new accommodation block in Chippenham, installing the cabling. It was a half hour drive from Swindon where he and Kerry had lived since severing ties with Bristol. But on the journey he felt the weight of that letter. Dying to know what it said, yet dreading it as well. Told himself, he didn’t care if they released the bitch or not. But his stomach lurched just the same. He didn’t take the turn-off to Chippenham. Didn’t want to have to be nice to people today, particularly the project manager, who was a jerk. So drove on until he reached Bristol and Boggart Hill. He pulled the letter out and stared at the logo. National Probation Service. As long as Grady was in prison, his murderous thoughts about her remained locked away as well. The move to Swindon was a new start. And he tried to live like a normal human being: Go to work. Eat three meals a day. Sleep eight hours. Get teeth checked every six months. He and Kerry had even managed a couple of holidays. Camping in Wales. A boat on the Norfolk Broads. But without his daughter, what was the point of a holiday? What was the point of anything? A gust of wind caught the dinosaurs making them jump and twirl, as if the spirit of his Riley was here, playing with them. One day, shortly before the horror, he padded into her bedroom and watched her in her secret child’s world. She was talking to the dinos, telling them off, like they were naughty kids. ‘I’m not talking to you, Daddy, I’m talking to Tall Boy and Big Tail,’ she said without looking around. Ten years ago, there were flowers at the base of the tree – hundreds of them. Kerry appreciated the outpouring of respect and emotion from the community. But he wanted something more, something that wouldn’t wither and die. That would stay the passage of his grief. So he lugged the big aluminium step ladders up here and placed Riley’s dinosaurs high up in the tree, securing them