As the weeks roll on its unsettlingly quiet, my stance on silent treatment is still firm.  Everything is unusually quiet almost scarily normal as if nothing previously happened and had all been nothing more than a bad dream.  Even the presence of the feral boys has stopped but in the pit of my stomach.  I get the terrible feeling this is the quiet before the storm.  I have now healed, the aches have gone but still burns in my mind, like a migraine that scorches at your brain and soars up behind your eyes, making me squint every time I think of what happened in the church.
I spend my days sitting on the beach, the chill of Spring has now lulled into the smoothness of early summer.

Dad and Bell have tried to discuss the upcoming start back to school in September but I simply looked through them, why they would they think I'd be interested is beyond me. 

As I sit on the beach watching the angry black waves beat against the stones, becoming a white froth that bubbles then sobs away like the reminisces of the seas temper.  I try to remember how it was before we came here, I don't hate it here, I hate what's happened since we've come here I feel like me and Dad have become people I don't recognise.  A family are paddling now in the water giggling, kicking water playfully at each other.  I watch them enviously, wondering the last time me and dad laughed with each other but as soon as I feel my anger towards Dad start to fade away I remind myself that I asked him to run and he wouldn't, so I'm stuck here. I've spent days and nights driving myself crazy trying to make sense of what happened but I feel I'm no closer to the truth and they've closed ranks so I'll get no answers from them.

The only people who could maybe shine some light on anything is her feral boys but they've disappeared, gone to ground, I fear their loyalty is too strong to her, I possibly could go to the vicar, but I would imagine he's also too scared of her.  So once again the trail goes cold just me left feeling like a crazy person trying to hold on to the last shards of my sanity that are now slowly slipping through my fingers but I refuse to give in and submit myself to this lie.  I know she is up to something, I know he is hiding something from me so my only option is to make someone tell me the truth, Out of the vicar and the feral boys, my best bet is the old man, he may fear Bell but he has no loyalty to her, I need to use that against her. 

I pick myself up with a tiny flicker of fire in my belly and leave to go back to the church, while the very thought of it makes my palms sweat and my heart race I know what I need to do.

I wait outside that church, on that bench, all afternoon until early evening, simply waiting for my chance, I watch the cars race past and the dimness of early evening settle around me.  Just as I feel the urge to leave, as the early evening nippy the air is starting to make me shiver, I hear the church doors open.  I don't turn but stay seated,  I hear the chatter of people leaving with a goodbye and a see you tomorrow carrying to me on the breeze.  They scuttle past me then I see him, he shuffles past me oblivious to my presence.  I follow behind him keeping my distance, I want to make sure he's on his own, like a tiger stalking its prey I quietly follow behind him scared I might spook him as he walks around past the church, and down the side road to what I can only guess is his car.  I hang back, then speed up when he fumbles in his pocket to find his car keys, now I'm here it dawns on me that I have no idea how I'm going to approach him so I cough loudly.  To this he spins around then his face drops when he realises it is me, he tries to hide he's scared but I can smell the fear radiate of him like a sickly sweet odour.  I step back confused by the sensation, that is overwhelming me , what is wrong with me?  I try to focus my mind, I need to say something so I awkwardly blurt out, "I'm sorry".

He's now confused, "sorry for what child?"

I lower my gaze trying not to concentrate on the fear pouring out of every one of his pores "I'm sorry for frightening you when ... I came over ill in your church" I learnt a long time ago the best way to get what you want from somebody is to seem weaker than them.

He nods and fakes a smile in my direction and mumbles "I'm glad you're better".

I know he doesn't mean it , I don't know how I know but I do, "and thank you for coming to the pub to visit me, my Dad said you came up but I don't remember seeing you" I pause waiting for him to react then instantly jump in, taking control of the situation so as not to scare him off.  "But the seizure wiped me for days, there is a lot I don't remember".

He's now nervously playing with the car keys between his fingers.  "That's fine child I'm just glad you're feeling better, it's getting late you should really be getting home to ..."

"Bell" I interject.

I see his hand tighten in a fist.  "Your dad".

Just mentioning her name sent his whole body to strain and tighten whatever she did to him that night has left its mark on him.  A mark that is clearly running deep.  I need to push him now because I fear I won't get another chance.

"I know this is terribly inconvenient but when I came over ill in the church I dropped my purse.  I was wondering if I could go in and look for it".

"No!" he barked at me, more aggressively than he intended it to be.  Not that I had any intention of ever stepping foot in there again but I wanted to read his response on it so I could see if he knows more than he is letting on.

"It's just that in my purse I had a photo of my mum.  It's all I have of her, she passed away when I was baby". I lay it on thick, the dead mum card with a hint of sad little lost girl routine which I've played out a million times before usually on people me and dad were trying to hustle, but he's not budging.

"No purse has been found but should something turn up I'll drop into the pub to you".

I pretend to mull it over as if carefully considering what he has said, "I won't put you out I'll pop in tomorrow when the church is open and have a look under the pews".

I can see the panic spread on his face as he blurts out "you can't come back, you can't come in".

My mind is screaming "gotcha!" but my face is still as stone not giving a single thought or emotion away.  "Why can't I come back?  Why can't I come in?"  He turns his back on me and tries to open the car but drops the keys, he swears under his breath, then gets on his knees scrambling in desperation to try to find the car keys that have fallen under the car.  I repeat myself.  "Why can't I come back?, Why can't I come in?" 

He looks up at me whilst still kneeling in the dirt and the sweat running down his forehead like a man with his head on the chopping board.  "Ask Bell, she needs to tell you".

I'm now losing patience with him.  "Tell me what?"

He slumps on to his bottom all saggy and defeated with the look of a man who has just given up.  "Child it's not my place nor job.  She needs to tell you because if you come in there next time you might not be so lucky to get out alive.  Please don't ask me no more".

I walk over to him, he flinches as I get closer, I bend down and fish out his car keys then hand them to him.  He doesn't take them straight away, as if he's scared to touch me or suspects I'm trying to trick him.  I nod at him to gesture it's ok and he timidly takes them from me then stands up.  I don't try to help him up as I can sense he wouldn't like that and I've pushed him far enough, I turn to leave and he calls behind me.  "If you want answers ask her about Lilith but never tell her I told you that name, please.  I'm an old man and while my faith is strong my body is now weak and she knows that, you have a right to know the truth but once you know - then leave ... get as far away as you can".

As I walk away the name Lilith rings in my ears, maybe that's the name of her daughter.  Maybe if I find out what happened to her, I can understand what Bell is up to.  Since I'm not talking to her this will not be easy conversation to bring up. I have two choices, to either find another source or to play her at her own game by seeming as if I'm relenting in my standoff with the silent treatment .