The Woman in the Wood

  ‘Maisy, don’t feel badly that you aren’t coping very well. Duncan is your brother, you were so very close, it would be understandable if you collapsed altogether. Especially now when they have a body but can’t confirm if it’s Duncan or not. As for me, I quite understand why the police arrested me.’ She shrugged. ‘I know local people think I’m a witch, mad or a criminal because I’m hidden away out here. There would’ve been a public outcry if the police hadn’t searched my home and taken me in for questioning. But they didn’t hurt me, Maisy, and I think many of the policemen felt bad that I was accused once they’d spoken to me and found I was rational.’

  ‘Don’t you get tired of people thinking badly of you?’ Maisy asked.

  ‘I don’t care about what people think. That’s why I live out here and I try to keep away from them all.’

  ‘I bet you wish now that you never got to know Duncan and me.’

  Grace looked at Maisy for a moment, the ghost of a smile on her lips. ‘No, you two are an exception to my rule. Like your brother, you have a good heart, and deep down I don’t think this body belongs to him.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Maisy so much wanted to believe that.

  ‘No, I don’t; he was found too far away from here. But whoever he is he will have family who will grieve for him. Anyway, Maisy, you must go home now. You shouldn’t be out in the forest alone. I bet your grandmother doesn’t know you’ve come here?’

  Maisy admitted she would be angry if she knew.

  ‘Don’t make her angry, child,’ Grace said, her tone chiding but gentle. ‘She may give you the impression she is heartless, but I expect she’s much like me and has been hurt so badly in the past she doesn’t know how to show her true feelings. Now off with you.’

  ‘May I come back to tell you who the dead boy is?’

  ‘No, my dear, stay away. It will be in the newspapers. When I walk to the shop for milk, I’ll pick one up.’

  ‘You don’t want to see me again, then?’ Maisy asked, her eyes filling up with tears.

  ‘It isn’t that.’ Grace made a brushing gesture with her hands. ‘I just feel it’s dangerous for you to be out here alone. Now go.’

  It had been a Monday when Sergeant Fowler informed them a boy’s body had been found. Five days later he returned to Nightingales to tell them it wasn’t Duncan but a boy called John Seeward from Portsmouth.

  Maisy was at her lessons with Mr Dove when he called, but Grandmother informed her when she got home.

  ‘He was murdered and buried in a shallow grave a month before Duncan disappeared,’ she said. ‘They had some difficulty at first in establishing the approximate date of his death because of the hot weather back in July and August, but his dental records proved his identity.’

  Maisy was so relieved she nearly fainted again, but her grandmother caught hold of her arms, led her to a chair and made her put her head between her legs.

  ‘If you get the vapours every time we get a bit of news, then I’ll tie some smelling salts around your neck,’ she said.

  Maisy almost giggled at her grandmother trying to be funny. ‘Sorry about that. Gosh, it’s wonderful it isn’t Duncan, but the parents of the dead boy must be devastated. How had he been killed?’

  ‘Strangled.’ Grandmother winced as she said it. ‘I wouldn’t normally tell you that, but it will be in the newspapers tomorrow for all to read. I’ve no doubt they will sensationalize it even more.’

  8

  The plan to get a job and leave Nightingales came to Maisy at Christmas because she was so unhappy.

  It had been four long months and there had been no more news of what had happened to Duncan to cheer or finalize it for her, and with Linda being away at school and no other friends to talk to, she was desperately lonely.

  No one, not Grandmother, Mr Dove or even Janice seemed to fully understand how she felt. It was as if part of her had been torn out leaving a gaping wound.

  Right from birth, she and Duncan had been together, learning to walk, playing, eating and sleeping together. Even when they started school they clung together. They didn’t have real friends, just acquaintances; they didn’t need them. They had each other. Maybe in the month or so before Duncan disappeared they’d begun to have separate interests and new friends, but they’d still spent their evenings and Sundays together.

  Maisy couldn’t imagine how anyone else could ever fill the place Duncan once occupied. She could feel no joy without him to share it, nothing was funny any more, even food didn’t seem to taste the same, and the forest looked sombre and sinister without him at her side.

  There had been a brief, very welcome respite when Linda came home for the Christmas holidays. She telephoned immediately because there was a dance at Lyndhurst village hall a few days before Christmas. She wanted Maisy to come and stay overnight at her house. She also said she was sure Alan and Steven would be at the dance too as they were both home from university.

  Surprisingly, Grandmother and Janice were happy to let her go; perhaps they hoped it would take her mind off Duncan. Grandmother even gave her twenty pounds for a new dress and she went into Southampton with Linda to buy it.

  That day it was almost as though nothing bad had ever happened. Maisy managed to put aside all thoughts of Duncan and just enjoy herself with her friend. The dress she bought was midnight-blue crêpe, with a scoop neck, elbow-length sleeves and a full skirt. She also bought a net cancan petticoat to go under it. With her silver dancing shoes, she felt she looked sophisticated and glamorous.

  Yet that evening as she rode home on the bus, grief came down on her like a thick, cold fog. She felt guilty that for a few hours she’d forgotten Duncan, and even worse she’d been telling Linda how much she wanted to see Alan again, as if that was all she’d had on her mind since he left for university.

  When she got home she tried to tell Janice how she felt. The older woman was sympathetic but she insisted there was nothing wrong with putting aside her anxiety about Duncan and being excited about the dance. Or to look forward to seeing a boy she liked. She insisted this was normal and what Duncan would want for her.

  Getting changed for the dance at Linda’s home, giggling as they did their hair and put on a little mascara, face powder and a hint of lipstick, all they were allowed, was a new experience for Maisy. When Dr and Mrs Evans told them both how lovely they looked, Maisy felt like she was stepping through a doorway into a better place, where nothing but good things could happen.

  Arriving at the village hall, she was stunned at how it had been transformed into a Christmas grotto with a big, beautifully decorated tree, hundreds of sparkly garlands and lights.

  Alan and Steven came over to claim them the minute they stepped inside and Alan hugged Maisy, admired her dress and said she was the prettiest girl in the hall. Maisy didn’t think it could get any better than that.

  As it was the first dance she had been to, she had nothing to compare it with. Linda scathingly said it was very much a village dance, with so many older people, but acknowledged the band was good. They mostly played ballroom dance music, but they did slip in a few rock and roll numbers for the younger people there.

  Maisy was in heaven because Alan danced almost every dance with her. She was surprised that he knew the steps, even if he was a bit stiff. He said he and Steven had gone to some lessons at university.

  Dr Evans butted in a few times and insisted on partnering Maisy for a waltz or a foxtrot. But Alan – very gamely, she thought – asked Mrs Evans to dance and pulled faces at Maisy over the doctor’s wife’s shoulder.

  It seemed to Maisy that Alan had thought about her a great deal during his first term away, showing concern about what she’d been through and acknowledging how painful it must be to still not know what had happened to her brother. When he took her outside for a few kisses she was transported back to that special day in Bournemouth, before everything went dark and frightening. But it was bitterly cold outside so they had to go back in or run the risk of frostbite. r />
  To see Alan looking so handsome in a smart dark suit, the music, the lights and the heady Christmas atmosphere was almost enough on its own, but the tender look on his face made Maisy believe it was possible to be happy again.

  He and Steven walked the girls home after the dance, and when Alan kissed her goodnight it was like fireworks going off inside her. Maisy was still awake long after Linda had fallen asleep in the bed next to her. She felt she could still taste Alan on her lips. She stroked her cheek where he had caressed it, and her stomach seemed to contract deliciously as she relived his kisses.

  The following morning Alan met her for a walk as they’d arranged, before she had to catch the bus home. Yet even before she approached him, waiting outside the post office, Maisy sensed something had changed. He had his hands in his overcoat pocket, the collar turned up and his chin tucked down into a scarf. It was very cold, but he was hunched and even at a distance of thirty yards he looked ill at ease.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked when he greeted her, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and there was no attempt at kissing her.

  ‘Er, no, it’s just that people gossip in this village. Let’s get out of it,’ he said, turning into a side road and away from the main street.

  ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be able to meet up again until after Christmas,’ Maisy said. She thought maybe he was a bit shy and afraid he’d run into some old friends who might tease him for being with a girl. ‘It’s only two more days till Christmas Eve and our housekeeper expects me to help get things ready,’ she went on.

  She had hoped to look in all the High Street shop windows with him, as they were all beautifully decorated, but Alan was walking really fast as if to get away. ‘But I expect your parents will want some help too, so maybe we could meet up the day after Boxing Day?’

  When he didn’t respond straight away Maisy knew something definitely was wrong. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, not even looking at her. He just buried his chin further into his scarf.

  ‘I can see there’s something wrong,’ she said. ‘Please tell me, Alan.’

  He did turn his head to look at her then, but his eyes dropped from hers immediately. ‘It’s my folks,’ he said gloomily. ‘They laid into me this morning about us meeting up.’

  ‘Do you mean because they wanted you to do something with them?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I mean they were cross because I wanted to meet you.’

  ‘Why? They didn’t mind us being at the dance together last night.’

  He looked embarrassed. ‘They didn’t know I was meeting you there, but someone told them and I suppose they said we danced every dance together. You see, they told me before I went to university that I was to forget you.’

  ‘But why?’ Maisy stopped in her tracks, unable to understand.

  Alan hung his head and he fiddled with a button on his coat. ‘This is so hard to say, and it’s unfair too. But they got themselves in a state because of what was said about your family in the newspapers. You know, your mother in that place and stuff. Also that you’re only fifteen. My father actually said, “We think a friendship with this girl is detrimental to your future.” I can’t really believe he’d say such a thing. You can’t help that your brother has disappeared, or that your mum is a bit doolally. But there it is, I’ve told you now.’

  Maisy felt as though someone had flung open a trapdoor beneath her and she was being plunged into a dark hole. She wanted to scream that this wasn’t fair, and to cry too, but she stifled the scream and bit back the tears, because she had to keep her dignity at all costs.

  ‘And you are so spineless you’re going along with it?’ she retorted. ‘So where are you supposed to be this morning? At a Bible meeting?’

  He had the grace to look ashamed. ‘I told them I had to explain face-to-face,’ he said. ‘If I really was spineless I wouldn’t have turned up.’

  That at least had to be true, but it made no difference to how much he had hurt her.

  ‘How can any of this be my fault? Did I drive my mother mad or force my brother to disappear? Maybe you think I’m also responsible for my father having a desk job during the war?’ she asked, trying not to raise her voice in anger. ‘And why on earth should they think any of this would reflect badly on you? Intelligent people would assume that facing such difficult things at my age would make me a stronger, more compassionate character. At least that’s what my teacher says. But then I doubt your stuffy parents would approve of him because he’s lost the use of his legs.’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Maisy,’ he begged her, catching hold of her arm. ‘You sound so bitter.’

  ‘I think I’m entitled to be bitter,’ she snapped, brushing his hand away. ‘How would you feel if you’d lost your twin brother and then people implied it made you a lesser person? By the way, I’ll be sixteen in January, above the age of consent. But then I assume they think because my mother’s “doolally”, as you put it, that I’ll get myself in the family way and then you’ll have to marry me.’

  She knew immediately that something like that had been said because Alan blanched.

  ‘This is horrible,’ he said. ‘I really like you, Maisy, I couldn’t wait to see you again and I’m ashamed my parents are being so small-minded, judging you without ever having met you. I really wanted you to be my girl, but I can’t oppose my parents as I need their help while I’m at university.’

  ‘So it comes down to money, does it?’ she said sarcastically. ‘Well, enjoy their help, become a vet and make them very proud of you. I expect they’ll pick a wife for you too – they obviously don’t think you’re capable of thinking for yourself. Sounds like a fun life.’

  With that she wheeled round and fled back to Linda’s house to pick up her things. Somehow she managed to hold back her tears until she was safely in her friend’s home.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Linda gasped when Maisy finally was able to tell her what had been said through her tears. ‘The cheek of his parents! They aren’t anything to write home about. His father is only an insurance man. His mum is as common as muck. I bet they had to get married themselves.’

  ‘Did Steven say anything about it to you?’ Maisy asked.

  ‘No, not a word. But you mustn’t be upset by this, Maisy. They’re stupid, mean-spirited people, that’s all, and Alan is pathetic if he allows them to run his life.’

  Maisy had to go home on the next bus; she couldn’t bear to talk about it any more. She felt humiliated, and couldn’t help but wonder who else thought those things about her.

  On Christmas Eve Janice cooked them a special dinner because Alastair was coming down from London for Christmas. At eight, when he still hadn’t arrived, Grandmother said they must go ahead without him. It was such a shame as Janice had made his favourite steak and mushroom pie, with golden puff pastry. She’d even laid the dining table with the best silver and glass and lit candles.

  Maisy didn’t much care whether her father came or not. It wasn’t as if he ever appeared pleased to see her, and she was still terribly hurt by Alan. Janice did her best to create a little jollity at the table, but it didn’t really work. Grandmother was seething because her son was late, and Maisy, trapped in her sadness, didn’t speak at all.

  She excused herself by saying she had a headache just as soon as she’d helped wash up. About five minutes after she got into bed, she heard her father arrive, and Grandmother asking Janice to warm his dinner up for him. It struck Maisy that he hadn’t wanted to come here or he’d have been on time for dinner. To her that meant he had no interest or love for his remaining child either.

  Christmas was painful. Forced cheer as they opened presents before going to church for the Christmas service. Janice served the lunch at one, and they went through the motions of pulling crackers and reading jokes out aloud, but there were more silences than laughs or even spontaneous conversation.

  There was a point during the meal when Maisy looked at her
father and wondered if he had ever cared about his wife and children. From the expression on his bony face, he was trying to hide the fact that he found the taste of the food repellent. But she knew it wasn’t the food, he just hated being in that room, with what remained of his family. Surely if he was grieving for Duncan he would want to be with his daughter, and his mother? Maisy was certain that most people who had lost one child would try even harder with the remaining one.

  Maisy insisted on doing the washing-up because she could see Janice was exhausted. She’d been up till late the previous evening, then up at five this morning to get everything organized for Christmas lunch. After the washing-up, Maisy went out for a brief walk, and it was then she first thought of leaving.

  She hadn’t given up on Duncan being found, but she couldn’t stay here waiting any longer in this crippling state of sadness. She didn’t want to let Mr Dove and Janice down, but she felt they would understand. As for her father and grandmother, she didn’t much care what they thought. Once she was sixteen they couldn’t stop her leaving anyway. Janice always bought The Lady magazine and she’d once showed Maisy all the jobs advertised in the back of it, everything from cooks and housekeepers to butlers and valets.

  She would apply for something in there.

  On the first day back at lessons in January, Maisy told Mr Dove she was leaving Nightingales.

  ‘I can’t stand this terrible sadness and waiting any more,’ she said. ‘I’ve applied for a mother’s help job in Brighton.’

  Perhaps he realized she was dead set on this, because he didn’t come up with the kind of arguments she’d expected.

  ‘You do know that a great many women treat a mother’s help like a slave?’ was all he said.

  ‘If they do I’ll leave and get another job,’ she said. ‘But I’ll be far happier with children to look after. It might be hard work, but at least there will be joy and laughter, all the things I don’t get with Grandmother.’