Wake Wood (21 page)

‘Why couldn’t you have waited until morning?’ Patrick demanded. ‘We still have the whole of our last day with Alice.’

‘You tried to take Alice out of Wake Wood,’ Arthur challenged.

‘Wait a minute. We had no choice but to try. She …’ Patrick pointed accusingly at Peggy. ‘She frightened Alice. Absolutely terrified her. Tried to get Alice away from us. It was very cruel of her.’

‘It was necessary. I knew something was wrong. I sensed it and I had to find out exactly what it was.’ Peggy robustly defended her actions.

‘I’m disappointed in you, Patrick. You too, Louise,’ Arthur admonished. ‘I’ve protected you. Spoken up for
you
when no one else would, because of the contribution you’ve made to the town. But you have to obey the rules of Wake Wood. I thought I’d made that absolutely clear to both of you when I first explained the ceremony of the return.’

‘Take Alice to the woods. Put her in the earth. Do it now, straight away,’ Ben boomed in his deep voice.

Sensing a presence behind her, Louise turned and saw a flash of white. Alice, in white pyjamas, was standing at the head of the stairs above them, listening to every word that was being said.

‘You have to put Alice back in the ground now so we can all be safe,’ Tommy shouted.

‘Forgo your last day.’ Peggy stepped forward alongside Arthur. ‘Forgo the time you have left and return Alice to the woods.’

‘You’re wrong. All of you …’ Louise’s voice rose hysterically. She turned, charged back up the stairs and, ignoring the impassive, blank expression on her daughter’s face, scooped her into her arms and hugged her. Alice didn’t respond to her embrace but Louise was too distraught to notice.

‘Louise,’ Arthur interrupted. ‘Much as I like both of you and am grateful to Patrick for what he’s done for Wake Wood and myself, taking over the veterinary business, you’d better bring Alice down to us now. We’re all here. Every one of us who was at the return ceremony, and we’re ready and prepared to do what’s necessary. We can start the feather walk right now, from here.’

Louise tightened her grip on Alice and turned her
back
on them. ‘You’re not taking Alice from this house. Not now. Not yet. I won’t allow you to.’

‘We’re here because we want you to do this, Louise,’ Arthur persisted. ‘We’re asking you. Not telling you, but you should listen to us.’

‘You’re not taking my baby!’ Louise’s emotion was raw, agonising to witness.

Alice spoke for the first time, her voice faint, heavy with sleep. ‘Mum …’

Louise retreated to the landing and headed for the safety of her and Patrick’s bedroom.

‘Why are they all here, Mum?’ Alice murmured.

Louise carried Alice inside and slammed the door behind them.

Patrick backed up the stairs, still facing the visitors, preparing to do whatever was necessary to protect his family.

Arthur walked up to Patrick and confronted him. Patrick held out his arms. He gripped the bannister tightly with one hand and laid the flat of his hand against the wall on the other, blocking Arthur’s path.

‘Three days, Arthur,’ Patrick reiterated. ‘You’re not taking our daughter one minute before we’ve had the full three days you promised us.’

‘Please, Patrick, see reason,’ Arthur pleaded.

‘I’ll fight you. Every one of you, if I have to,’ Patrick threatened. ‘Do you understand?’ He squared up to Arthur.

Arthur stood his ground. ‘We came here to talk, Patrick, to reason with you and ask you to take action, not to fight. There are people here who believe
something
serious is amiss with Alice … something’s not gone according to the plan. Have you seen any signs of that in Alice?’

‘No. Not at all.’ Patrick continued to stare tight-lipped at Arthur.

‘All right,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But you have to tell me if you observe anything unexpected or beyond what we’ve discussed. Do you understand? Anything that seems in the slightest out of the ordinary.’

‘“Out of the ordinary”,’ Patrick mocked. ‘As if this entire situation isn’t out of the ordinary, Arthur. It’s so out of the ordinary I refused to believe a word you said when you told me what you could do. Even though Louise did.’

‘You know what I mean, Patrick. No one knows Alice better than you and Louise. I mean odd, out of the ordinary for your daughter—’

‘Alice is fine,’ Patrick broke in defiantly. ‘She’s our little girl and she’s fine. Just as she was.’

‘Yes, she’s fine for the moment,’ Arthur agreed. ‘And she’s here for one more day. But tread carefully until you return her to the woods, Patrick. I mean it.’ Arthur signalled to his neighbours.

The first of the uninvited visitors left the living room, crossed the hall and opened the front door. One by one the townsfolk left, melting into the darkness outside as quietly as they’d arrived.

The only sound that signalled their leaving was the harsh click of the lock on the front door when the last of them shut it behind him after they’d all passed through.

Afraid his legs were about to give way, Patrick sank down abruptly on the stairs. Above him he could hear Louise singing softly to Alice.

One more day
. Arthur’s words cut through him like a knife. Only one more day and then …

AFTER THEIR NEIGHBOURS
left the cottage Patrick felt drained. Barely capable of thought. He was beset by a sense of foreboding. A premonition that something catastrophic was about to happen. He felt the need to check every downstairs room. Leaving the stairs, he went into the kitchen and bolted and locked the back door. He took the key from the lock and hung it in the key cabinet in the hall.

After securing the front door and fastening the chain, he made sure every window was firmly fastened. Then he began to check all the appliances, the boiler, the stove, the electrical sockets.

Was he making something out of nothing? Was his feeling of unease simply attributable to his neighbours’ nocturnal and undeniably threatening visit, coupled with his anger and impotence in the face of Alice’s impending ‘return’?

For the first time he questioned the decision that he and Louise had made. Would it have been better if they’d turned down Arthur’s offer? Seeing Alice again had been a marvellous, wonderful miracle; so much so, he didn’t even want to imagine letting her go a second time.

Would it have been easier for him – and especially for Louise – to have come to terms with the loss of Alice if they’d never allowed Arthur to summon her back?

He couldn’t decide. Especially as Alice was sleeping upstairs. She was here, in this house with him, and he wanted to protect her. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to care for her after tomorrow night! It was a father’s duty to protect his child and he’d failed. Failed dismally! He’d failed her when the dog had killed her and he was about to fail her again by giving in to Arthur and their neighbours’ demands that he put her back in the ground.

He returned to the hall, intending to go upstairs, but stopped in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of a figure in the hall mirror.

Had someone stayed behind?

Someone dressed in white? He shrank back against the wall. He couldn’t recall any of his neighbours wearing that colour.

He stared into the mirror until his eyes burned. There was someone standing in the middle of the living room. He was sure of it. A young girl with dark shoulder-length hair. Her back was turned to him.

Summoning his courage, he stepped closer. The figure turned. He felt the blood drain from his face. It was Alice in her white pyjamas.

Steeling himself, he walked into the living room and switched on the light.

The lamps illuminated an empty room. There was no one there.

He turned around twice, checked behind every piece
of
furniture until there was no doubt. The only person in the room was him.

He searched every downstairs room again before climbing the stairs and opening the door to his bedroom. Louise was sitting, propped up by pillows on the bed beside Alice, who was sleeping soundly.

‘I thought she’d be safer in with us after what happened,’ Louise whispered, raising her finger to her lips after she’d spoken.

He nodded to show he’d understood, went to the window and pulled aside one of the curtains. Their visitors hadn’t left the garden. They were standing grouped around Arthur on the lawn. Every one of them was looking up at him and he sensed they’d been holding a silent vigil while watching him move around the house.

He left the curtains slightly open and pulled up a chair. Terrified for Alice and Louise, conscious that he could do little against so many, he sat and stared at his neighbours. If they weren’t going to sleep that night neither would he.

The rays of the rising sun woke Patrick at daybreak. The trees around the house stood black, skeletal and windblown, etched like woodcuts against the dawn light. He left his chair and stood in front of the window. The lawn was bereft of people and silvered by frost. It glittered hard and cold. He presumed his neighbours had ended their watch some time during the night while he’d slept.

He left the chair and went to the bed. Alice and
Louise
were lying side by side, entwined and curled together like kittens in a basket. An oddly peaceful scene after the trauma of the night. He looked around, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He went to the door and returned to the bed.

There was no doubt in his mind – the closer he drew to Alice, the more audible the voices became. The sound of singing – children singing, very softly and quietly – singing out Alice’s name, ‘Alice … Alice … Alice …’

He gazed at his daughter, but his loving glance was tempered with horror when he noticed the congealed blood on her hands and the dirt beneath her fingernails.

He didn’t want to think how her hands had got into such a state. He stared at her face, tracing every line, imprinting it on his memory. She was his daughter and he loved her. Nothing else mattered. How could it?

The voices persisted, softly whispering and singing. He ignored them and lay on the bed beside Alice, wrapping his arm around both her and Louise. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of their breathing. It was a lullaby he never wanted to end.

When Patrick next woke, the light was stronger and the sun higher in the sky. He reached out and touched Louise, then realised Alice was no longer lying between them. Panic-stricken, he sat up and looked around. When he saw that their daughter wasn’t in the room with them he left and checked her bedroom. It too was empty. He ran downstairs and grabbed the back-door key from the cabinet in the hall.

To his relief he found Alice in the kitchen. She’d already showered and dressed, her damp hair was neatly brushed back away from her face and she smelled of soap and toothpaste. She was rummaging around in the freezer, searching through the drawers.

‘Hi, Dad,’ she greeted him brightly. ‘I’m thinking of cooking sausages for all of us for breakfast.’

He smiled. ‘Great idea, but make sure you ask Mum to help you.’

She frowned at him.

‘You know how Mum worries about hot stoves.’ When she didn’t say anything, he continued, ‘Thanks, honey. We’ll all enjoy eating them.’ He hesitated when he saw a black feather on the kitchen counter. He picked it up, unlocked the outside door and scanned the immediate area. There was no sign of anyone or any more feathers. He threw the black feather into a bush in disgust and headed for his surgery. He hadn’t reached the door when he heard a frantic knocking. He looked back at the house. Louise was banging the window of the dining room.

Her cry was muffled by the double glazing but the look of horror on her face was obvious. ‘Patrick!’

He turned to see what she was pointing at and reeled back as though he’d been punched. Fixed to the door of the garden shed by half a dozen nails was the bloodied furry pelt of Howie. There was no mistaking the distinctive markings on what had been the dog’s coat. Something was lying on the flower bed beneath it. He stepped closer. It was the dog’s lifeless corpse; a lump of freshly skinned, raw, bloodied flesh, with huge eyes
that
appeared abnormally round and staring without their lids.

He turned and looked back at the house. Alice was walking out of the kitchen door. Louise had left by the front door and was shouting at her as she came around the house.

‘Alice, stay in the house, sweetie. Whatever you do, don’t come out into the garden. Stay indoors. Just for a little while.’

‘What, Mum?’ Alice turned to Louise as if she hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

‘Please, baby. Stay inside,’ Louise pleaded. ‘Promise me that you’ll stay inside and don’t look out of the window. Don’t argue with me, sweetie. Just do it.’

‘All right, if you want me to, Mum.’ Alice returned to the kitchen.

Louise waited until Alice was back in the house, then closed the door on her before running across the garden towards Patrick. She took one look at the dog’s skinned carcass, clapped her hand over her mouth and began to retch.

Too angry and devastated to offer Louise either help or comfort, Patrick swung the door on the shed wide so he wouldn’t have to touch the pelt, took a spade and a pair of gardening gloves from inside and began to dig a hole next to the animal’s body.

‘I don’t understand,’ Louise whispered hoarsely when she could finally speak again. ‘Why would Arthur and the others do this to a defenceless animal?’ She fought back tears as she watched Patrick enlarge the hole until it was big enough to take the dog.

His eyes darkened as he stopped digging and looked at her. ‘Can we be sure that it was Arthur and the others?’

Louise stared at him in disbelief as the importance of his words sank in. ‘What are you saying?’

Patrick’s only answer was to resume digging, fast and furiously. He drew in quick shallow breaths of air but didn’t slacken his pace for an instant. It was as though he were trying to erase the horrific scene by sheer physical exertion.

When the hole was large and deep enough, he wrapped the skinned dog’s carcass in a tarpaulin and lowered the bundle into the bottom. Only then did he remove the torn and bloodied pelt from the shed door and drop it on top of the dog. He pulled off his gloves, now soaked and steeped in the dog’s blood, and tossed them dank and dripping into the hole, before picking up the spade and piling earth back into the grave. He continued to work quickly, perspiration running down his brow on to his cheeks.