Wake Wood (19 page)

‘Alice, are you ready?’ Louise prompted when Alice totally ignored Martin and carried on brushing the pony.

Peggy walked out of the tack room and joined them. ‘The sandwiches won’t spoil, and Martin can always make fresh tea. Let Alice finish up here. I’ll bring her inside when she’s done.’

Louise stood helplessly, unable to think of a single excuse to give Martin as to why she and Patrick should refuse his offer of tea.

‘Coming, Patrick? Louise?’ Martin stood by the door, obviously waiting for them to join him.

Pressurised, Louise felt she had no choice other than to turn her back on Alice and follow the two men into the farmhouse.

Peggy waited until she and Alice were alone in the stable before joining Alice in the stall.

‘Alice,’ she began, excitement making her breathless. ‘There’s a game I want us to play together.’

‘What kind of game?’ Alice looked up at her.

‘That’s enough grooming for now. Set the brush and comb back on the shelf and come with me outside. We’ll start the game when we’ve sat down. You’ll like it, I promise you.’ Peggy led the way out of the stable to a partially roofed open area at the side of the building that
wasn’t
overlooked by any of the windows in the farmhouse.

Covered in wood chippings, the site was dominated by a large circular chopping block and axe. Piles of logs stood behind it, neatly stacked and stored under a tin roof to shelter them from the worst of the rain before they were needed to feed the wood-burning stove in the kitchen.

Peggy sat on the block and indicated that Alice should sit beside her. A fresh breeze whipped across the yard, ruffling their hair and the tops of the trees that had been planted around the farm.

‘What’s the game?’ Alice repeated curiously.

‘It’s a quiz. I’ll ask you questions and you give me the answers. I’ll keep the score.’ Peggy lifted out a bag she’d hidden among the logs that were waiting to be cut. She opened it and drew out a wooden frame with bone beads on wooden bars.

It was similar to the one Arthur had brought to Patrick and Louise’s cottage, but without the metal bars, of a more bizarre shape and, if anything, even more ancient.

‘What’s that?’ Alice asked.

‘Just something I use when I play this game,’ Peggy answered. As Arthur had done when he’d talked to Louise and Patrick about bringing Alice back, Peggy began flicking and clicking the beads, moving them up and down the wooden bars.

‘Now, Alice Daley,’ Peggy began, ‘what’s your name?’

Alice giggled. ‘That’s a tough question. I pass.’

Peggy forced a laugh. ‘Right! I see the way it’s going to be with you. Lots of jokes.’ She fell serious. ‘Now tell me, when you close your eyes when you’re tired, do you see more yellow or brown?’

Alice giggled again. ‘I see a big red enormous shape like a huge spinning doorknob.’

Peggy clicked more beads into place. ‘Alice, if you were hungry right now and you had to choose between something salty or sweet, which would it be?’

‘If I was hungry I’d get a great big burger and fries and lots of extra little salt containers and a strawberry milkshake. And then, when you weren’t looking, I’d open all the salt packets and tip them into the milkshake, then trick you into drinking it.’

Peggy continued to watch Alice carefully. Her hair blew into her eyes as the wind started to pick up around them. She brushed it aside.

‘Let me see your hand, Alice.’ Peggy held out hers in preparation to take Alice’s. Alice hesitated before holding it out. Peggy examined the ends of Alice’s fingers, particularly her cuticles and fingernails. After she released the hand, she flicked some more beads around. ‘The date of your birth. What would that be?’

‘The twenty-second of January.’

‘And the year?’

Alice’s only reply was to blow a very loud raspberry.

Peggy smiled. ‘I think I know anyway. A little bird told me.’

‘The same little bird who told you that I like ponies?’ Alice asked.

‘It might be.’ Peggy carried on clicking the beads.
‘Although
if you don’t become more cooperative—’

‘Cooperative?’ Alice interrupted as if she didn’t know the meaning of the word.

‘That means that if you don’t answer more of my questions honestly and correctly, I doubt you’ll be riding that pony again anytime soon.’

‘Hmm, I can’t remember,’ Alice mused. ‘Is that what they call bribery or blackmail?’

Peggy froze. She gazed at Alice, who was scuffing the dirt on the ground with her feet and studying the marks she was making.

Peggy looked down at the coffin shape Alice had sketched out with the toe of her shoe. She thought back to the ceremony of the return. The other people Arthur had brought back. Even children … Deirdre … they had all been so calm. So compliant. Yet Alice was different. She couldn’t have said quite how, other than what she had told Arthur when he had asked for Mick’s corpse.

Something was wrong. Wrong with Patrick and Louise. But most of all wrong with Alice. Her eyes rounded in fear and she began to shake. ‘Alice,’ she blurted nervously, ‘are you a normal little girl?’

Alice slowly raised her eyes and stared at Peggy. ‘Now, why would you ask me a question like that?’

Peggy deliberately looked away and stared at the trees that were now being buffeted wildly in the wind that had picked up speed.

‘Why won’t you look at me?’ Alice demanded.

‘Because I’ve seen enough of you.’ Peggy’s voice was hoarse with fear that she could no longer disguise.

Martin poured boiling water into the teapot and carried it over to the scrubbed-down pine table in the kitchen where Louise and Patrick were sitting. He covered the pot with a home-knitted tea cosy and pushed a large plate of sandwiches towards Louise.

‘Go on, Louise, have another one. You too, Patrick. They’re going to go to waste if you don’t eat them.’ Martin poured fresh tea into their cups.

‘Thank you.’ Patrick took a sandwich.

Louise spooned sugar into her tea then, deciding that she couldn’t sit still another minute, pushed her chair back from the table. ‘I really think I should check on Alice. She’s not used to being with strangers.’

Patrick dropped his sandwich on to his plate. ‘Good idea. It’s time we found her, if only to make sure she’s not wearing out your mother with her chatter, Martin.’

‘My mother’s used to children’s chatter and Alice will be happy enough with her,’ Martin countered. ‘So there’s really no need to disturb yourselves. Drink your tea and eat the sandwiches. My mother will be bringing Alice in any minute now.’ He glanced out of the window at the stable, but he knew that his mother would have taken Alice around the corner of the building into a comparatively private area where they couldn’t be seen from the house.

Then he caught a glimpse of Peggy moving into his line of vision. ‘In fact, there’s my mother now, so they’ve already left the stable,’ he said to Patrick. ‘Look, she’s crossing the yard.’ He helped himself to another sandwich.

‘If you don’t mind, I’ll still go out and meet them.’
Without
waiting for Martin to reply, Louise opened the kitchen door and ran down the steps into the yard. Alice rose to her feet when Louise came into sight but she didn’t look at Louise – she was facing and staring at Peggy O’Shea.

‘Is everything all right, sweetie?’ Louise asked Alice in concern.

‘I don’t like that woman,’ Alice declared, pointing to Peggy, who was backing away from her while apparently studying a point way above Alice’s head.

Patrick, coming out of the farmhouse, turned to Peggy. ‘What’s happening here, Peggy?’

Louise crouched down in front of Alice to make sure she wasn’t hurt in any way before turning on Peggy. ‘What have you done to our daughter?’

‘She’s not right.’ Peggy spoke vehemently without looking at any of them. Her voice was high-pitched, insistent. ‘You’ve got to take her back, now!’ Peggy demanded. ‘At once. You dare not wait a moment longer. She has to go back to the woods. Now!’

Alice walked away from Peggy, Patrick and Louise. Quickening her pace, she rushed out of the yard and into the lane that led from the farm to the main road.

Patrick called out after her, ‘Alice. Please, honey, stop. Wait for me.’ But she ignored him and kept on walking.

Peggy watched Alice for a moment. ‘Take her to the woods and return her. Now! I was right all along. I should never have allowed Arthur to talk me into giving you Mick’s corpse. You don’t belong here. None of you. Especially Alice.’ Deliberately turning her back
on
Patrick and Louise, she went into the house and closed the door firmly and noisily behind her.

‘What are we going to do?’ Louise begged Patrick when she heard the door slam behind Peggy and the key turn in the lock.

‘First of all, get Alice and make sure she’s safe.’ Patrick raised his voice and shouted down the lane, ‘Alice … wait for me.’

‘Let’s leave here, Patrick,’ Louise pleaded.

‘What …?’ Patrick turned to her in confusion. ‘You mean O’Shea’s farm?’

‘Yes, the farm,’ she said impatiently. ‘And Wake Wood. Right now, right this minute. Alice is different. You heard Peggy O’Shea say, “She’s not right, you’ve got to take her back,” the same as me. We don’t know if their rules apply in Alice’s case and nor do they, because we’ve done it differently from what they’re used to.’

‘Louise …’ Patrick faltered in bewilderment as he tried to think clearly.

‘Do you
want
to send Alice back?’ she demanded. ‘This is her second day. Tomorrow they’ll come to the cottage and try and make us do just that.’ Louise hated inflicting pain on him but she felt she had no choice.

Patrick suddenly realised that Louise had asked the question he hadn’t thought about or even wanted to consider since Alice’s return. ‘Of course I don’t want to send Alice back,’ he retorted seriously. ‘Yesterday and today … they were wonderful … so special …’

‘As every day could be for us as a family from now on, provided we keep Alice with us,’ Louise pleaded.

He thought rapidly. ‘You’re right. We should leave here right now, right this minute,’ he said decisively. ‘We won’t go home. We’ll leave everything and start again somewhere else. Somewhere far from here. Go and fetch the car. I’ll run after Alice. You can pick us up on the main road.’ He handed her the car keys.

Louise took them and hurried off.

Patrick raced after Alice but he didn’t catch up with her until she was nearing the main road. ‘Hey, honey,’ he shouted, ‘be careful, that’s not a lane but a busy road. You have to watch out for traffic.’

Alice stopped and looked around when she reached the bottom of the lane that opened on to the thoroughfare, but the noise of the nearby wind turbines was so loud it drowned out Patrick’s warning shouts.

‘Hey, Alice.’ Patrick continued to run after her until he was only six feet from her. ‘Do you mind if I come and talk to you? Mum’s just behind me. She’s going to pick us up in the car and we’re going to take a trip together.’

When Alice backed away Patrick halted. ‘What’s the matter, honey?’

Alice stared at him.

‘Did Mrs O’Shea say something to frighten you?’ Patrick persevered. ‘I’m sorry if she did, honey. If you talk to me about it, I might be able to help you understand and make it better.’

Alice finally spoke and when she did, Patrick felt as though his heart had been pierced by an icicle. ‘Dad, am I dead?’

Dumbfounded, Patrick was unable to reply for a few
seconds
. ‘Well …’ he began tentatively. ‘You don’t seem very dead to me, honey.’

The wind turbines continued to turn, making it difficult for either of them to hear what the other was saying.

Patrick reached out and caught Alice’s hand. Together they walked slowly past the turbines and around a bend to the narrow bridge that marked the boundary of Wake Wood.

Patrick looked down at Alice and caught sight of the edge of the sign,
WELCOME TO WAKE WOOD
. Arthur’s warning about keeping Alice within the confines of the town came to mind. But he also recalled what Louise had said.

We don’t know if their rules apply in Alice’s case and nor do they, because we’ve done it differently from what they’re used to
.

He didn’t stop Alice from walking resolutely past the sign.

She took a few more steps then stumbled. When she fell she didn’t attempt to rise. Then she whimpered.

Unable to bear the thought of her in pain, he hesitated. ‘Alice … wait …’

She turned to face him. His warning shout had been too late.

‘Alice …’ Patrick cried when he saw Alice’s skin split and open on her hands. Blood dripped from her finger. It was the same spot he’d seen her cut herself with the bread knife.

She looked up into his eyes, held out her arms to him and cried out, ‘Dad!’

Before he could pick her up she began screaming uncontrollably. He watched in horror as her skin continued to split, crumple and shrivel, exposing enormous circles of raw wounded flesh that bled copiously. Within seconds the same devastating, appalling wounds that the dog had inflicted on her face and neck had opened. The wounds that had killed her.

Her screams escalated and she writhed in agony, shrieking, ‘Dad! … Dad!’

Patrick hadn’t felt so impotent or so useless since the morning she’d died. He ran to her and swept her up into his arms. He raced back past the sign, only stopping when he was once more safely inside the boundary of Wake Wood.

Alice was gasping for air. He knelt on the grass holding her close to him, willing life into her just as he’d attempted to do on the day she’d died.

He tried to study her injuries with a professional eye. Frantically tried to exert pressure on her wounds to halt the bleeding, but it was hopeless. As soon as he pressed down on one injury, another opened up close by.

‘I’m so sorry, honey.’ Tears fell from his eyes on to her poor, small, broken, bleeding body. ‘So, so sorry …’

Louise drove their car around the bend. Seeing him leaning over Alice on the grass verge, she applied the brakes and screeched to a halt. She reversed next to him and ran from the car.