The Girl by the River (16 page)

Kate looked at him sceptically through the waves of giddiness. Then her heart almost stopped. The basset hounds erupted into deafening barking, and the stones in his collection rattled and
trembled with the weight of the dogs’ powerful bodies charging through the table legs to reach the door.

‘LIE DOWN!’ Ivor Stape clambered after them and dragged both dogs, at an angle of forty-five degrees, across the floor and shut them in the kitchen.

In the shocked stillness, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel, and three figures plodded past the window.

When Freddie walked into Ivor Stape’s extraordinary room, he saw only the haze of golden light around the one chair. Kate turned her beautiful eyes to look at him, and so
did her father, Bertie, who was standing beside the chair, earthy and twinkling with humour as he had always been. On the other side of the chair stood a silver-haired lady who looked like Sally.
He recognised her as Kate’s grandmother, from photographs he’d seen. Between them was a phosphorescent column of light stretching to the ceiling. Rays of light rippled from it, yet the
light didn’t illuminate the crystals, or the books, or Kate’s glossy hair. It was sacred light which didn’t come from the sun, and Freddie was certain that if he stared into it
for long enough, he would see the radiant face and shimmering skirts of an angel. He was transfixed. To walk into a place he had considered to be evil, and find this shining capsule of truth was
overwhelming. Not only was it totally unexpected but, he thought, stunned, it was exactly as Tessa had described.

Tessa had told him about the stones. She told him about the Hans Andersen book with the gold-rimmed pages. Clearly and fluently, she described Bertie and Kate’s granny, down to the last
detail, as if it was normal. Her pale blue eyes were translucent with honesty, and Freddie believed her. It confirmed what he suspected. Tessa was seeing spirit people. She had the gift.

He didn’t know whether to be happy about it, or worried.

Kate was trying to stand up. ‘It’s all right, Freddie. Don’t look so worried.’

‘I told you not to come down here.’ Freddie took her in his arms. She was quivering, and white-faced.

‘I know you did – but I felt compelled,’ she said. ‘Nothing has happened. I only had a little giddy turn. Too much excitement.’

‘You sit down.’ Freddie led her back to the chair, not convinced that she was well. She sank into it, and he sat on the arm, holding her hand tightly and looking up at Bertie. Should
he tell her? The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. ‘Your dad is with you, Kate,’ he said, ‘and your granny – in spirit. I can see ’em, clear as
daylight.’

Kate stared at him in astonishment. ‘Well, I can’t see them.’

‘I know you can’t – but I can,’ Freddie said, and added, ‘just between ourselves, Kate.’

‘But that’s wonderful!’ She beamed and the colour began to return to her cheeks. ‘Someone was giving me strength.’

Ivor Stape was blustering, and they both turned to look at him standing between the two policemen. He pointed at Freddie. ‘Your wife is an extremely courageous woman,’ he said.
‘You should take better care of her, and your little girl. What was she doing all alone, paddling up the stream? She ought to have been in school. She’s a highly intelligent,
interesting child. I’m a lonely old man, you see, and Tessa brought a bit of sunshine into my life.’

Freddie and Kate looked at each other. It was the first time in seven years that anyone had said something so positive about Tessa. As for taking better care of her – Freddie shook his
head at Kate. ‘Don’t argue with him,’ he whispered. ‘They’re writing it all down. He’s gonna drop himself in it in a minute.’

‘And I get the blame,’ Ivor Stape continued, as one of the policemen scribbled down every word in his notebook. ‘You don’t think, do you? If I go to prison, what happens
to my home, and my dogs – and my life’s work – sitting in here going damp, gathering dust – years of dust? Ruined. All because you can’t look after your
child.’

Freddie heard tears in the man’s voice and momentarily felt compassion for him. He’d seen his own father cry those kind of tears many times in his childhood. The bittersweet tears of
someone who couldn’t be the person he’d like to be. Tears of failure and frustration.

‘I think you’d better calm down, sir. It’s no good attacking Mr and Mrs Barcussy,’ said the sergeant. ‘And I think it’s time for you to come to the station
with us and make a statement.’

Ivor Stape snorted. ‘Make a statement!’ he mocked. ‘What good is that?’ He took the Aberdeen Angus pipe out of his pocket and lit it with a match, his hands shaking. He
looked at Freddie and Kate, and loneliness echoed in his eyes, like a shout in a railway tunnel. ‘You remember this when you blame an old man like me,’ he said. ‘Folks like you
– you’ve got each other. I’ve got no one.’

‘Come along now, sir.’

Ivor Stape looked intently at Kate as the two policemen bundled him out of the room. ‘You remember what I said,’ he told her, turning his head. ‘That little girl – Tessa
– she is a treasure.’

Kate had one last question she needed to ask. ‘Did you give Tessa a dog – a white terrier?’

‘No, I didn’t and I’ve never seen a dog like that here.’

Freddie found himself looking again at the spirit of Kate’s father and he could have sworn that Bertie winked at him and said something. It sounded like: ‘Look in the bureau.’
He would have liked some time to focus on talking to the spirit visitors, but he was concerned about Kate. She looked pale and had shadows under her eyes. He wanted to take her home, get her out of
this extraordinary room. Yet another part of his mind wanted to linger and examine some of the fascinating collection of stones.

The two policemen escorted Ivor Stape outside.

‘Will you follow us out please, Mr and Mrs Barcussy? – and close the door behind you.’

‘What about the two dogs?’ Kate said. ‘Who’s going to look after them?’

‘We’ll take care of that, rest assured,’ said the sergeant. ‘The important thing for you is to go home to your family and get some rest. You can come down to the police
station tomorrow morning and make a statement.’

Freddie was eyeing the police car, a large black Wolseley. He couldn’t resist touching it, and dreaming.

Once Ivor Stape was inside the police car, the sergeant got out again to speak to Freddie and Kate, in confidential tones. ‘Between you and me, unless you can get Tessa to tell you what
actually happened, we’ve got no reason to charge him. I know she’s only seven, but you must sit her down and make her talk.’

Making Tessa talk was the beginning of the destruction of a hypersensitive soul. The more she was pushed, the more she recoiled into her mysterious shell.

‘Just let her be,’ Freddie advised, sensing Kate’s determination to get the truth out of her. He refused to take part in any more interrogation sessions. Tessa needed him to be
a safe, quiet, loving presence, a
rock of ages
where she could hide herself. ‘I’ve got work to do,’ he said to Kate. ‘You sort it out. You’re good at that kind
of thing. You’re the best person to do it.’

So Kate took Tessa down to the school, with the light of battle in her eyes. ‘Don’t you DARE run away,’ she said. ‘You stay in the playground with Lucy while I talk to
Miss O’Grady.’ It was the end of the school day, and Tessa’s classroom was empty.

Kate sat down on a hard chair, facing the metallic grey figure of Miss O’Grady. She searched her cold eyes for a spark of love and found them chillingly barren.

‘I believe in my daughter,’ Kate said warmly. ‘Tessa doesn’t talk a lot, but she’s bright, I’m sure she is – and artistic like her father. And she can
be VERY kind. There’s nothing wrong with her at all, and I would like you to give her another chance, please.’

‘I see.’ Miss O’Grady picked up a wooden ruler and smoothed it with her chalk-ingrained fingers. Her nails were cut sensibly straight, the cuticles dry and peeling.

‘What is it that bothers you about Tessa?’ Kate asked.

‘She is stubborn. Obstinate, I would say. She won’t do what the other children are doing. She won’t play. She stands against a wall and does nothing. She won’t do games
or P.E. She won’t eat her lunch. She won’t answer if you ask her a question.’

‘But that’s no reason to exclude her, surely?’ Kate said.

‘No.’ Miss O’Grady began to flip the wooden ruler over and over on the desk. ‘It is something worse.’

‘What?’ Kate asked.

‘It’s – I’m afraid it’s something evil, Mrs Barcussy.’

‘Evil? What do you mean?’

‘Tessa insists on talking about ghosts. She is adamant that she sees them, right here in the classroom.’

‘Surely not – give me an example.’

‘We had a child who came in crying because her granny had died, and I told the children to leave her alone – but Tessa shouted out, in the middle of a spelling lesson that she could
see the child’s granny. She even tried to describe what she was wearing. Then – very recently – she actually claimed she could see Alfred Lord Tennyson, if you please, in the
classroom. I’ve told her and told her not to do it, but she does, and she does it in an extremely disruptive way. It frightens and upsets the other children – I’ve had parents
complaining about it. I’ve punished Tessa, or tried to, but she just sits there, mutinous. Believe me, Mrs Barcussy, I’ve tried everything.’ Miss O’Grady brandished the
ruler at Kate. ‘One day I smacked her hands really hard with this ruler – and do you know what she did?’

‘What?’

‘She picked up her own ruler and smacked me right back, and do you know what she said?’

‘Go on,’ Kate said, shocked.

‘She screamed at me. “I hate you,” she said – and her eyes looked EVIL. It’s bad and disruptive for the other children, don’t you think?’

‘I can see what you mean,’ Kate said, ‘but I believe in my daughter. I know there’s good in her, and I want to get to the bottom of this. Why does she hate you so? We
must find a way to help her, not condemn her. Now, I suggest we invite the vicar to come and talk it over with us, and perhaps he can talk to Tessa. He is a school governor, isn’t
he?’

‘Yes, he is – and of course it’s a church school. I think that’s a good idea.’

Tessa felt abandoned. She sat obediently on a chair in Miss O’Grady’s office, her legs not quite reaching the floor, her eyes watching a honey bee climbing up and
down the window pane. Trapped, like she was, desperately seeking a way back into the paradise of a garden in the sun. She heard its high-pitched whine of distress.

Her mother was there, next to her, leaning forward as if she was riding a horse, her bright brown eyes darting attentively from one to the other. Miss O’Grady was there, and so was the
Reverend Reminsy. Tessa knew they were talking about whether to give her a chance to come back to school. She didn’t care, didn’t want to go there anyway, and didn’t listen to
what was being said.

It seemed to Tessa that even her mother had abandoned her, and her father wasn’t there to defend her. Freddie had taken Lucy for a walk in the woods, and Jonti had gone with them. That
hurt as well.
Jonti is MY dog
, Tessa thought angrily. Alone in the garden that morning Tessa had gone into the ‘Anderson Hollow’ under the lilac bushes. She’d sat
underneath one, gazing at the exuberant blossom and the flakes of blue, blue sky between. For once the beauty didn’t make her happy. It made her sad. She was no longer part of that beautiful
world. She didn’t belong to herself. She belonged to the adults in her life who wanted to own her and change her. She would be like the milkman’s pony, forever in harness, blinkered,
obedient and servile, not free.

How could she stop them trying to trap her and harness her? How could she protect herself? Tessa saw a caterpillar crawling up a weathered tree stump. It found a crack and went in there.
Fascinated, she watched it spinning a thread around and around itself, twirling as it hung there, lit by a beam of sunlight. It was making a cocoon, a safe place to hide and change.

Suppose I did that
, Tessa thought.
I’ll be like a caterpillar and build myself a cocoon of white silk. I can hide in there safely, until I’m old enough to be a butterfly
and fly away into the sky where no one can get me
.

So she sat, silent and detached, in the meeting, visualising the silver threads glistening in the sun as they wrapped her into a thicker and thicker cocoon.

‘She’s not listening! Look at her,’ said Miss O’Grady’s exasperated voice.

‘TESSA!’

She jumped as the Reverend Reminsy brought his whiskery face uncomfortably close to hers. His eyes pierced the cocoon and looked into hers like two nails being hammered into a tree. ‘If
you won’t talk and explain yourself, Tessa, then you are going to listen,’ he announced. ‘Look at me please, at my eyes. Do you know why I’m here?’

Tessa shook her head.

‘I’m here because I’m a school governor – and I’m here to help you, Tessa. I have persuaded Miss O’Grady to give you another chance. She has kindly agreed to
let you come back to school,’ he said, ‘BUT – you have got to change your ways, young lady. Do you understand that?’

Tessa nodded.

‘You are not to run away. You are not to be rude and answer back. You are to do everything Miss O’Grady tells you to do, even if you don’t like it. You are to eat your lunch
and join in with games and try hard to make friends, Tessa. Do you understand me?’

She nodded.

‘AND,’ he continued, ‘all this nonsense about seeing people who have died HAS GOT TO STOP.’ He banged his hands together and Tessa jumped, frightened by the force of his
tone and the way his eyes burned into her. ‘Even if you do think you see them, you are not – I repeat ARE NOT – to tell ANYONE.’

The ‘ANYONE’ hung in the air between them. Tessa imagined all the people she knew disappearing down a hole and leaving her alone at the brink with no one to talk to, no one to share
her dreams and ideas. She felt her eyes growing shiny with hot, thick tears.

‘Do you understand why I am talking to you like this?’ the Reverend Reminsy asked more kindly.