The Paradise Trees (28 page)

She shook her head, holding on to Frank’s arm, feeling his whole body tremble as he stood there. She knew there was still hatred on her face. Her father was dead and Jenny was gone and
dear God, what was she supposed to do now?

Derek patted her shoulder. More people had patted her shoulder these past few days than in her whole life. He stood for a moment, and she saw him struggle to find words. The expression on his
face was a curious mixture of pity, curiosity and desire to help her.

‘Alicia. I don’t know what your father did, but some things just aren’t forgivable.’ He left the room, and Alicia leaned her head on Frank’s shoulder.

‘I want to go back to the house and then when, if, they find Jen, I want to go home,’ she said.

‘No problem. We can leave right away.’

Doctor Cummings was waiting at the nurses’ station. ‘I’m sorry, but there will have to be a post-mortem,’ he said. ‘We still haven’t established the cause of
his sudden decline. I can’t give a death certificate because there isn’t a known cause of death. I hope you understand.’

Alicia looked at him. What the hell did she care. ‘That’s fine, and thank you, but I have to go. I need to contact the police about my little girl.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll pray for her,’ he said, walking to the front door with them.

Alicia stood on the steps of St. Joe’s and phoned the police while Frank spoke to the other doctor. Chief Inspector Wilson informed her that there was no news, still no sign of Jenny, and
the search by the river was to continue all night. In the meantime they were pursuing other lines of inquiry too, trying to find out if Jenny had been seen on CCTV in any of the surrounding
towns.

The dreary feeling was back in possession of her brain again. ‘Take me home, please,’ she whispered when Frank reappeared, and he nodded.

The touch barrier had been broken, and they walked down to the car park with their arms around each other, like two teenagers. First love. Except it wasn’t love she was feeling now because
inside she only felt dead. Empty. The child in her head was gone, her own child was lost, and so were all her feelings.

Frank drove slowly back and opened the front door with her key. Alicia went into the living room. Her father’s chair, Margaret’s chair, Moritz asleep on the sofa, and what was she
going to do? Her mobile blared out suddenly and she grabbed it, but it was only Sonja and she passed it over to Frank to deal with. She couldn’t have explained to Sonja all that had happened
without breaking down, but Frank managed in a few sentences and promised his sister he would call back when there was news.

‘You should eat something,’ he said, looking towards the kitchen. Alicia shook her head.

‘I need to be alone,’ she said quietly. ‘I just want some, some quiet. Some space. But please understand, please come back tomorrow, please Frank.’

‘You don’t have to say please,’ he said, and she heard the tremor in his voice.

‘I know,’ she said. He pulled her to him and held her tightly for a moment.

‘I’ll be back at six in the morning,’ he said. ‘Get some sleep. Take one of Bob’s pills. You must rest.’

She shook her head again, and watched from the window as he drove away. So now she really was alone. And her father was dead. He was at peace now and he didn’t deserve to be. The house was
silent as she went and sat on the sofa. Staring at nothing.

The Stranger

The sun had set before he got back home, but it had been time well spent. There was still a lot of coming and going out there but no-one at all had any idea that little Helen
was here with him. His wonderful plan was succeeding way beyond his wildest dreams and it was every bit as fulfilling as he’d known it would be. The best was still to come, of course, the
absolute highlight: looking into little Helen’s eyes as he sent her off to Paradise.

Feeding Bob more drugs had been child’s play. The old man was an even easier target the second time, putting up no resistance to being fed another cocktail of drugs. Again, the most
difficult part was making sure no-one saw him. And now he was home again, thank goodness.

He washed his hands and splashed his face, then went to see what little Helen was doing. There she was on his bed, beautiful as ever, and so fragrant. He untied her hands and feet and kissed her
cheek, her neck, the lovely little dip where her navel was. How perfect she was.

She was starting to wake up, her eyes were half open and she was making little movements with her head and arms. Well, he would let her wake up a bit, they could play together, and he would see
if she was going to be cooperative. If not, he would give her another dose, a very light one this time. He wanted her awake in the woods.

‘Little Helen darling, it’s playtime,’ he whispered, rubbing her cheek, his fingers sliding over the oily skin. He turned little Helen on her front and started to massage her
back, rubbing rhythmically, circling and stroking round her shoulders, down her back, that smell, over her hips... She was as skinny as a rake, puberty was a long way off. Skinny was the wrong
word, though, she was... lithe, that was it. Oh, it was almost too much.

Her eyes were wide open now, but they were unfocused, he could tell she wasn’t registering what was happening to her. He turned her on her back again and stroked her face.

‘Wake up, darling,’ he said softly. ‘It’s alright, you weren’t well, but you’ll be better soon. It’s playtime.’

She was quiet for a moment, then to his dismay she started to wail, a high-pitched, wordless keening sound that completely destroyed his sensual atmosphere. No, oh no. It would never do if any
of the neighbours heard her and came to see what was going on, and of course the whole village knew that a child was missing. He would have to put her under again.

He poured the drugs mixture into her mouth, taking care not to give her too much, and then he held her, muffling her wails with the fluffy blanket. In a few minutes she was quiet again, lying in
his arms like a little golden goddess. He looked down at her. He was going to lie with her, that was a promise he’d made to himself. He would have something to eat now, and then they could go
straight on up to the woods and play some more. It wouldn’t matter if she wailed there, no-one would hear her. The searchers were still out by the river, he could see their lights from the
bedroom window. But up at the clearing where everything was in darkness he could do whatever he wanted.

Humming to himself, he whisked up eggs for an omelette and added cheese and a shake of dried parsley. There was some lettuce left over from earlier, too. A nice little meal. He would allow
himself a glass of white wine, after all, tonight was going to be a celebration. Little Helen was going to Paradise.

When the food was ready, he carried the tray back to his bedroom. He could feast his eyes on little Helen as he ate. And then it would be time.

Playtime and Paradise. What a wonderful end to the day.

Alicia

Alicia slumped down on the sofa. Frank was gone and the whole house was silent as the grave.

She shivered. She’d wanted to be alone, but now that she was, it was almost more than she could bear. Even the child in her head had deserted her, and she found herself wondering if she
would ever hear her own young voice again. Maybe it was enough for the child that their father was dead. The child could rest, it was Alicia the adult’s job to find out what had happened. Did
she really want to know more than she did already?

He had whipped her. Beaten her with his belt, and here in the silence of this house she was able to think about it almost neutrally. He had beaten her for being a normal, affectionate little
girl whose friend had hugged her goodbye. How terrified she had been that day. And other days too. She had been afraid for her life several times.

What had the fear done to her? It had forced her to forget the beatings, and maybe they were best forgotten. Forgiven? No. Like Derek said, some things weren’t forgivable, her father had
abused his child with
pleasure
, his little girl who had only wanted a normal childhood with a normal Mum and Dad and normal fun and who quite simply hadn’t understood.

Awful memories of her father’s ill-treatment and her mother’s indifference. Mum had been such a quiet, shadowy kind of person. Why hadn’t she come to Alicia’s aid? Could
she have
agreed
with what her husband was doing? Or maybe she had known that to stick up for her daughter would mean a punishment for herself too.

If that had been the case, what terrible memories her mother must have taken to her grave. And now this day had its own terrible memories. Jenny was gone, and so many people’s lives had
been affected by what had happened. The searchers, the people at St. Joe’s, Margaret, David. They were all going to remember it forever. The day a child went missing and her mother made such
a scene at an old man’s deathbed. Had her father realised? Had he heard her, had he understood? What did it matter now?

Alicia felt her shoulders slump. The horror of her own child’s disappearance was completely eclipsing any feelings she might have had about her own childhood suffering.

Legs shaking, she stood up and went through to the kitchen, Moritz following after her. At least she wasn’t quite alone, Moritz was here too. Mechanically, she spooned cat food into his
bowl and set it by the back door. He tucked in, obviously ravenous.

The numbness was beginning to wear off. Again. Jenny’s pink cardigan was hooked on the back of a kitchen chair, and Alicia grabbed it and held it to her face. She felt the lump at the back
of her throat grow and thicken, and she made no effort to control the sobs that forced their painful way from the core of her being. For long minutes she leaned over the kitchen table, her body
shaking with sobs. This was the worst day, the worst hour of all, things just couldn’t get any worse than this.

Oh yes they could, her head told her brutally, a policeman could come by any minute and tell you they’ve found a crumpled little body in a ditch somewhere. Now she was going to have to
organise a funeral for an old man and maybe one for a little girl too, a double funeral. Words floated across her mind:
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.
Or was that weddings? Or
both? She could never go to Jenny’s wedding if the funeral came first.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
... An oak coffin for her father, the white one for Jenny. But no. No way could she
have them together even in death.

What could have happened? The idea of Jenny setting off for St. Joe’s all by herself didn’t ring true, somehow. If Jenny had seen the note and for some reason been unable to phone,
she would have gone to a neighbour. Definitely. And even if she hadn’t seen the note, if she’d arrived home and found the house empty and the car gone, surely,
surely
she’d have gone to a neighbour then too. The Donovans had been at home. So Jen must have gone away with someone, either voluntarily or against her will.

The crying fit had passed, and her brain was sharp and clear again. Adrenalin was pumping through her. Think it through, Alicia, reason it out, maybe you’ll be able to work something
out.

If an absolute stranger had taken Jen, there was nothing she could do. No amount of reasoning or thinking would help, it would just be one of those awful, hideous coincidences that happen in
life. Other little girls had been abducted, raped and killed because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happened. But right now she should focus on the other possibility, because
there she might be able to think something out.

Who would Jenny go away with? Well, start nearest home. Paul was already ruled out. The neighbours and quite a few others too; the search for her father had introduced them to a whole set of
villagers they hadn’t known until then. But the police had ruled these people out too and there was no reason to think they’d make a mistake.

Kenneth Taylor from the pet shop. Suspect number one, as far as Alicia was concerned. There was definitely something strange about him. On the other hand he’d been kind to them, look at
the way he had taken the time to tell Jenny all about the kittens, and that collar he’d given her for Moritz was an expensive one. But then if he was a paedophile grooming his next victim, he
would be kind, wouldn’t he? Alicia paused in her thoughts. There was something wrong with that. Kenneth Taylor a paedophile? She closed her eyes and pictured him, working in his shop, talking
in his strange high voice, his smarmy manner. Then she knew. The man wasn’t a paedophile, he was gay, that was what he was, gay, yes of course, and think of those times he had acted
strangely, snatching his hand back from Jen’s grasp when he was bleeding, touching her then jumping back. HIV. He was gay and he had HIV, that was it. So there was no reason in the world to
think that he would take Jenny and harm her. And Frank had given him a good character.

That left Frank himself, Jesus Christ, what was she thinking, this was the man she had decided she was in love with. Except that right this minute the feelings part of her brain wasn’t
working properly so it was difficult to tell. Jenny liked Frank, she would trust him. As for the timing, well, he’d been back and forward all day, it wasn’t impossible. But dear God no,
she couldn’t think like this. Frank was the only person she had left to trust here. So push that thought right away.

But who else was there? People like Mrs Mullen at the shop. Well. That couldn’t possibly be true. Then there was the handful of people from St. Joe’s who were known to Jenny, she
would trust Derek, for instance, or Doug, or Laura. But was it really within the bounds of possibility that one of them had actually taken her? Not Laura, because Oberon was definitely a man.
Derek? He hadn’t been around in the morning, paperwork, he’d said, but he’d been there some of the time in the afternoon. And like Frank, Doug had been back and forward all day.
Working in a hospital was like that, you were in and out of the rooms and then you went to pick up some meds or take a patient somewhere and then you were back again.