The Paradise Trees (12 page)

‘He’s exhausted but otherwise fine,’ said Frank.

Alicia’s teeth started to chatter. She hadn’t killed him, there wouldn’t be a funeral. She really could phone Margaret and say that he was tucked up in bed at home. The
intensity of her relief surprised her. She nodded at Frank.

‘He was in the empty house further up the lane,’ he went on. ‘The garden has a gate that opens onto the river pathway, we think he must have gone in that way, and then found
the back door unlocked. We only looked into the garden on our way down, but then on the way back Kenneth Taylor saw him standing at one of the upstairs windows. He probably couldn’t find his
way out again but that’s just as well under the circumstances.’

The stretcher-bearers manoeuvred up the stairs and deposited her father on his bed where he lay still. Alicia dropped down on the wooden chair by the bed. It was over. She managed to smile at
Frank.

‘I’m glad it wasn’t the river,’ she said, and he nodded, glancing at Jenny.

‘Jenny, why don’t you wait downstairs while your Mum and I give Grandpa a quick check over?’

Jenny gazed beseechingly at Alicia. ‘Can we go up to the woods, me and Conker?’

Alicia found her voice. ‘Oh, I suppose so. Just for a little while. Take your cardie, it’s clouding over.’

She rubbed her face with a cold hand, watching as Frank examined her father. The back door slammed behind Jenny, and Frank glanced up, grinning.

‘Kids recover quickly,’ he said. ‘It’s the grown-ups that are left weeping and wobbly.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Alicia. ‘How is he?’

‘His vital signs are fine, but of course we can’t know exactly what happened to him,’ said Frank, placing his stethoscope in his black bag. ‘Alicia, you should take him
to St. Joe’s. The ambulance is still waiting in the lane. I’m off duty today, but John Hammond would meet you there and admit him officially.’

Alicia was silent. It could be that easy. Take her father to St. Joe’s now, and the deed was done. But if it happened like that she would always feel the guilt.

‘Frank – unless you think it’s absolutely necessary I would prefer to keep him here until I can talk to Margaret again,’ she said, hearing the tears in her own voice.

He gazed at her for a moment, his face blank, and then nodded slowly. ‘We can do that, if you’re sure it’s what you want. I’ll come back and check him again later,’
he said, leading the way downstairs. ‘You should have a lie down for an hour or so too, you look knackered. You’ve had a shock.’

Alicia hesitated. Lying down was the last thing she felt like, and her ‘shock’ wasn’t at all what he thought it was. She should tell him what was going on here. Maybe he would
be able to help her with the child’s voice in her head and the new, disturbing ‘memories’.

‘Frank, could we have a chat? There’s something I’d like to run by you.’

He was already heading for the front door, but he turned and stared for a moment before following her into the kitchen. ‘Of course. Come on, the doctor is ordering a nice cup of
tea.’

The Stranger

How could it all have gone so wrong? But then he couldn’t possibly have foreseen that the old man would end up in an empty house. So old Bob was safe and sound at home,
not in St. Joe’s, not in the river and definitely not dead. They were all playing Happy Families and there was nothing to say that big Helen would send him to St. Joe’s today.

He really needed to get back up to the woods and see what had been going on there. Had the special place been harmed during the search? Oh God, his trees, his magical place, it mustn’t be
spoiled. He should have considered that they would search the woods for an old man gone walkabout. Worry gnawed away at his soul in much the same way it had after Mummy died. That had been a
terrible time too.

She had died at his hands, like Snugglepuss, but of course he couldn’t throw Mummy into the river. And a person was a lot more serious than a cat, he’d known as soon as he’d
done it that the police would be involved. Would they notice that he’d held her nose and mouth shut? Had he left bruises, fingermarks on Mummy’s skin?

The next two days had been hell, he’d expected that at any moment a policeman would come knocking at the door and arrest him for murder. But apparently no-one had noticed anything. The
cause of death was given as multiple fractures and a head injury. There hadn’t even been a post-mortem because
fortunately
stupid Dad had said she wouldn’t have wanted that.
They must have thought the cause of death was obvious, and so thankfully, everything had worked out well. He and his sister had been sent to live with Mummy’s aunt so he didn’t even
have to see much of his stupid father after that.

And now he had little Helen to plan for. His mood lifted when he thought about her, sweet child, what was she playing now that her grandfather had been found safe? Oh God, please, maybe the plan
could still be saved. Big Helen would be busy with the old man for the rest of the afternoon, this was actually the ideal time to take little Helen... it might not even matter that big Helen was at
home and not St. Joe’s.

The problem was that he was uptight now, he was nervous, he wouldn’t enjoy playing with little Helen feeling like this.

He would go to the woods anyway, just as soon as he could he would go up to the special place... if he was lucky, little Helen would be there.

Alicia

The phone rang while she was waiting for the kettle to boil.

‘Alicia, how’s your father now?’

‘Doug, I was going to call you. He seems okay, Frank’s just examined him and he’s going to come back tonight too. Then we’ll decide about St. Joe’s, but I’m
hoping to wait up with that until Margaret gets home.’

His voice was comforting as usual. ‘I’m sure your aunt will appreciate what you’re doing. Is Frank still there, then?’

Alicia glanced into the kitchen, where Frank was scribbling in a folder at the table, oblivious to everything else.

‘He’s writing up his notes. Thanks again, Doug, for your support.’

‘Wish I could do more. I’ll be in touch.’

Alicia filled the teapot with hands that had almost stopped trembling. It was a relief to be doing something as normal as making tea, and the fact that Doug had called again was a good feeling.
He definitely cared. And so did Frank. She placed a mug in front of him.

‘Great, thanks,’ he said, sipping. ‘Alicia, I know it’s like hitting a man while he’s down, but you know yourself that once dementia patients start to wander they
tend to keep it up, and it’s incredibly difficult then to keep them safe. And while I’m not expecting anything terrible to happen to your father health-wise after his escapade today,
the bottom line is we just don’t know how he’s going to react, and the care and facilities in St. Joe’s are better than anything we can offer him here at home.’

Alicia warmed her hands on her mug. How wonderful it would be not to have to take care of her father any more.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I do want to talk to Margaret before making the final decision. I’ll phone her when I’ve had my tea.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Gather
my arguments first.’

Frank nodded, looking across at her with an expectant look on his face. Alicia bit her lip. Now for the big confession.

‘I... I don’t love him,’ she blurted out. ‘You were gone by then but I left home the minute I was sixteen, I couldn’t take any more, he was so... restrictive and
so... so mean with it too, it was as if he hated me for trying to be a normal teenager. He... I don’t know what he did, Frank, ever since I’ve been here I’ve had this
child’s voice in my head talking about ‘the bad room’ upstairs and crying and it’s scaring me. And today I remembered lying there on his bed and there was blood on the
sheets and I don’t know where it came from.’

She caught her breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Why had these thoughts and memories never come to her before? And why hadn’t she seen his cruelty to her teenage self later on for what
it was... abuse? In those days she hadn’t been too young to tell someone.

He stared for a second, then stretched out a hand and squeezed her arm on the table. ‘Okay, let’s talk about this,’ he said quietly. ‘You said he was mean when you were a
teenager, I guess his religion wouldn’t let you do a lot of things and you rebelled, right?’

She looked at him and he patted her arm again before leaning back and sipping his tea.

‘Okay. I can understand there could still be some unfinished business there. Now tell me about the child’s voice and the blood on the sheets.’

Slowly, Alicia explained about the frightened little voice and the nausea, and the sudden, horrifyingly vivid picture of a child crying on a blood-covered bed.

He frowned. ‘That sounds like a flashback. You know, the sudden memory of a traumatic experience that’s been suppressed.’

Alicia fought back hot tears. ‘Oh God. What do you think happened to me?’ she whispered.

He shook his head. ‘There’s no way to tell at the moment. It might not even be a flashback of a real event, it could be a dream you had once, or something scary you saw on TV and
couldn’t handle at the time. You’re afraid that you suffered some kind of abuse at his hands, aren’t you?’

She looked a ‘yes’ at him, cold fingers pressed to her forehead. It was a moment before she could speak.

‘He shoved me around when I was a teenager, pulling me upstairs and locking me in my room, pushing me back onto a chair to read the Bible, that kind of thing. But this child in my
head’s a whole lot younger, and she’s really scared about something but I can’t remember a thing about it.’

He remained silent for several moments, staring at the table top, and she felt herself grow calmer. He was going to help her. At last he looked up.

‘Okay. Alicia, we don’t know what happened yet but whatever it was, you survived. That’s the thing to hold on to. You survived; you’re an adult in charge of your own
life. Try not to worry about it, if you relax you might remember more. By today’s standards your father was certainly physically abusive. You’re afraid there was sexual abuse too, but
you’ll need time to work through that, maybe in some kind of therapy.’

She exhaled deeply. That all made sense. She was an adult, she could cope with whatever had happened to her as a child. He was right, she
had
survived.

‘Thanks, Frank,’ she said, realising that she felt lighter within herself now that she had told someone her fears. ‘That helps.’

‘Don’t try to force anything,’ he said. ‘Memories are funny things, the more you try to bring them to the surface, the further underground they go. Maybe Margaret can
tell you something about how your parents treated you back then. And we’ll ask Sonja if she remembers anything, you can have a good chat with her when she arrives.’

‘I wondered about finding Cathal, too. I played with him a lot, and he was older, he might remember more,’ said Alicia.

Frank drained his mug. ‘Good idea. We’ll get this sorted, but you can’t rush it. Have a think and get back to me about it. This makes the whole situation here with your father
quite horrible for you, doesn’t it? Try to get Margaret to agree to St. Joe’s, Alicia. It would be so much better for you all.’

‘I know,’ said Alicia miserably. She was caught right in the middle here, between her own wishes and Margaret’s. And Margaret had been so good to her, giving her a home when
she’d left this one. Margaret had been a whole lot more motherly to Alicia than her own mother had been. But if her father stayed here at home...

She imagined the next few weeks caring for him, with no help except Margaret, and Frank popping in. Having uncomfortable, frightening flashbacks about God knows what. The sheer uncertainty was
the killer -
was
she a victim, or was she building something in her head, something that had never happened? Was her father simply a sick old man whose religious convictions had made him
heavy-handed with his teenage daughter? The voice in her head could be a sign of her own identity crisis, not ‘abuse’. But no... look at the way he reacted to her. Even if he no longer
knew exactly what had gone on, he knew enough to taunt her.

All at once she knew, with complete certainty, that she couldn’t do it. No matter what Margaret’s feelings were, she just couldn’t do it.

‘Frank, I’ll bring him to St. Joe’s tomorrow morning,’ she said quietly.

He didn’t try to dissuade her. ‘Good decision,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll get it organised for you. And I’ll talk to Margaret too, when she gets
back.’

Alicia felt the tense muscles in her neck relax. It really was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. This time tomorrow, someone else would be responsible for her father. And
she could concentrate on making the rest of the summer pleasant for Jenny. These might be the last memories Jen would have of her grandfather, it was up to Alicia to make them better memories than
her own. And with her father in St. Joe’s there would be time to sort herself out, too. Find out what the flashbacks were about.

Frank stood up. ‘No thanks, I must go,’ he said when she lifted the pot. ‘I’ll let you know about the arrangements with St Joe’s when I come back this
evening.’

He hesitated by the door, obviously pondering something, and Alicia waited without speaking. After several seconds of silence, though, he merely grinned at her.

‘See you sometime after six,’ he said. ‘Call me if you’re worried.’

Alicia watched as he drove off down the lane, then ran upstairs to check that her father was still asleep. He was, breathing slowly and steadily, thank God. No matter what he had done to her,
she hadn’t killed him. The relief was indescribable.

She ran downstairs again to the sound of fat raindrops plopping against the windows, and here were Jen and Conker running back up the garden. Heavens, she had almost forgotten about her
daughter. Jenny hadn’t had anything proper to eat since breakfast. It was time to ignore the guilt about being an undutiful daughter and just be a mum.

The Stranger

It was late afternoon before he got up to the woods. The mess was indescribable. The search party had trodden over everything in its way, and the crushed bushes and trampled
undergrowth gave the whole place a ruined, wasted appearance. It was worse than he’d been expecting, and of course little Helen wasn’t here, he hadn’t really expected to see her
after the rain. He walked along looking right and left, dismayed at the destruction. His special woods, they had been stripped brutally of their freshness, their vitality, their very soul. What had
his own Helen thought, he wondered, as she watched all those people crashing around here? The only things that still looked the same were the trees themselves, tall trees, birch trees and oaks.
Everything else had been soiled.