Wake Wood (2 page)

And now – now he was alone, lonely and adrift in
Wake
Wood. But, if everything went according to his carefully laid plans, not for much longer.

A night gale howled around his isolated stone cottage, rattling the doors and windows and hurling the branches of the surrounding trees against the walls. When he’d spoken to Arthur earlier that evening, his partner had warned him to expect wild weather.

Arthur had been right. He shivered as a draught cut across the landing. The living room would have been warm and cosy with its open log fire but he was sitting in the master bedroom, which he deliberately kept cool.

He was sick with apprehension. He’d spent months preparing for the events he’d set in motion. But had he planned for every eventuality? Failure would sentence him to a lifetime of loneliness. But could he – would he – find the courage to do what was necessary when the moment came?

He moved restlessly from his chair and went to the window. If his plan didn’t succeed he’d lose everything he cherished except his memories. Memories of his precious loving family … his wife Louise …

As a young man, he hadn’t believed in love at first sight until he’d seen Louise. One glance across the crowded student-union bar of the university during Louise’s first week in college had been enough. He’d lost his heart. If she’d asked him to be her slave he would have sacrificed everything he had, including himself, to her without question. To quote one of his closest friends, Louise had ‘touched him with the barmy wand’.

Wherever Louise had gone, male heads had turned. But it hadn’t been her long blonde hair or stunning slim figure that had captivated Patrick. It had been her dark blue eyes. Every time he’d gazed into them he’d felt as though he were drowning.

The most amazing miracle was that after crawling around campus in her wake for an entire month, she’d suddenly noticed him. They’d moved in together at the beginning of her second term, lived together for the next three years until they both graduated from their respective courses, and married the week after they’d been given their diplomas.

They’d made so many plans. He’d wanted his own veterinary practice in a historical and beautiful old city, Louise her own pharmacy. They both wanted a rambling old house, dogs rather than dog, cats rather than cat, maybe horses – dependent on spare time – but one definite ambition was a large family. At least four children, possibly six.

They’d soon discovered real life meant compromise. The house they’d bought with the maximum mortgage the bank would allow had been beautiful, old and rambling. It had also been in need of expensive renovation that had ruled out any prospect of them taking a holiday for three years. But on the plus side, it had had a yard and outbuildings that Patrick soon had converted into a surgery.

The pharmacy had never materialised. Louise had accepted a position with a high-street chain of chemists – a temporary job while she’d looked for suitable premises to set up her own place. But pregnancy had
tempered
Louise’s ambitions. There’d been no point in starting up a time-consuming business just as she was about to embark on motherhood.

Patrick had set up his practice, worked hard, and by the time their daughter Alice had arrived he’d been making a comfortable living – so comfortable it had enabled Louise to give up work and become a full-time mother, wife and homemaker.

Alice had proved to be the best gift either of them had ever been given, so small, slight and fascinating, yet a combination of them both. She’d inherited his colouring and Louise’s beauty. Her skin had been as white as porcelain, her eyes large, dark, questioning, intelligent – just like Louise’s but brown, not blue. Her beautiful hair had been long, like strands of silk, but black, not blonde.

Alice, so fragile, so vulnerable – the first of the children they had planned, and, because of Louise’s medical problems, their last.

Crippled by an emotional pain that transcended anything physical, Patrick returned to his chair. Oblivious to his surroundings and the temperature, he stared into his open veterinary instrument box.

He picked up a scalpel and ran his thumb along the edge, drawing a thin red line that dripped blood. It didn’t even hurt at first. The blade was sharp enough to cut cleanly through soft pink skin. Slice the fat beneath it, sever and divide nerves and tensed, hard muscle …

But would he find the will and the strength to wield it? He’d soon find out. The waiting was almost over. He listened to the water flowing in the shower in the
bathroom
. A soft, steady murmur below the wails of the wind, accompanied by the occasional splash as a body moved beneath the spray.

It had been months since he’d shared the house with someone. Long, desolate months, but if he succeeded he wouldn’t be alone again. Not in his lifetime.

Soon the water would be switched off … and then …

He listened hard with every fibre of his being. Was it his imagination or was there really a tapping? Was someone knocking at his door? He checked his watch. Surely not at this hour. Not straight after the ceremony.

His business partner, Arthur, was his nearest neighbour, and he was miles away. Besides, Arthur had been with him, helping and supporting him throughout the ceremony. Surely now Arthur and all the others would respect his privacy.

The sound appeared to be coming from somewhere above him. Birds on the roof? In this gale? Or a banshee? If it was, now would be the time to look up and discover whether they really were old hags or exquisite young fairies.

He steeled himself, leaned back and stared. A skeletal tree branch was bouncing wildly on the skylight, hitting it intermittently and lightly. So lightly, the sound was reminiscent of a child’s fingers drumming against glass – or the wings of a small plastic bird …

He almost smiled. A sad ghost of a smile. He didn’t need prompting to recall his last moment of pure happiness. That magical early-morning hour of Alice’s ninth birthday. Would he – could he – have savoured it more if he’d known what was to come?

He closed his eyes and turned back the days. More excited than Alice, he hadn’t even been able to wait for her to wake naturally on her birthday morning. He’d dangled a wind-up bird he’d found in a joke shop from his bedroom window down to hers, a floor below. The bird’s wings had beaten against the glass. Tap … tapping … tap … tapping … the same light staccato the branch was pounding now against the skylight.

He creased his face against the pain, as Alice’s voice – sweet, high-pitched in excitement – echoed in his memory.

‘Mum … Dad …’ First her shout, then a thud as her feet had hit the floor when she’d leapt out of bed. A light patter as she’d raced to the window. He and Louise had stayed up until the early hours, blowing up balloons and stringing them and the banner he’d ordered from the signwriter across the garden outside Alice’s window.

HAPPY NINTH BIRTHDAY, ALICE
.

He hadn’t been there, but he’d imagined the look on his daughter’s face when she’d seen it for the first time.

When he’d heard Alice racing up to the master bedroom, he’d pulled the bird back in through the window and returned to bed, jumping in and covering himself with the duvet seconds before she’d burst in.

Alice had never moved slowly. She’d only had one speed – headlong – always in a rush as if somehow she’d sensed that time, for her, was in short supply.
She’d
dived on to the bed and landed on top of him, her black shoulder-length hair flying behind her, her dark eyes glittering with excitement.

He’d hastily stuffed the bird under his pillow and hugged her, revelling in the feel of her slight body pressed against his. Flesh of his flesh. Her heart beating against his, her skin soft, velvet smooth, he’d caressed her face and run his hands through her fringe, combing it back from her forehead with his fingers.

Overwhelmed by love, he’d held her at arm’s length so he could look into her eyes. ‘Do you like the banner?’

Alice had kissed his cheek and returned his hug, wrapping her small arms around his chest. ‘You and Mum are silly.’

‘Really?’ He’d feigned indignation.

‘I heard you moving around, making noises in the night. What were you and Mum working on so late apart from balloons and “happy birthday” signs?’

‘I had a night call. A great big hairy dog sick with a blocked intestine, which is …’ he’d tickled her stomach through her ruffled turquoise pyjama top, ‘exactly here. He was your kind of dog. Big and noisy!’

Alice had giggled. ‘I’m not big and I’m not noisy. But I am nine years old from today.’ Her smile had been irresistible, disarming. He’d have given her the world if it had been his to give and she knew it. ‘So …’ she’d wheedled.

‘It’s no use trying to charm me, honey,’ he’d teased. ‘You know Mum’s rule about birthday presents. No gifts to be given or opened until after school.’

Her face had fallen.

‘Is that OK?’ he’d checked, knowing it wasn’t and fighting to keep a straight face.

‘It’s OK.’ She’d shrugged her thin shoulders in resignation.

‘So go to your room and get dressed, slowcoach.’ He’d rested his arm lightly on the package under the duvet.

She’d left the bed, only to turn back quickly at the door. ‘What’s that lump under the covers on your bed?’ she’d demanded.

‘What lump?’ He’d tried to sound innocent but Alice had been having none of it.

‘This lump.’ She’d returned and patted it.

He’d pulled away the duvet to reveal the parcel he’d hidden beneath an enormous bag. She’d trembled, transfixed by excitement.

‘Go on, open it.’ He’d been as impatient to see her reaction to the surprise he’d prepared for her as she’d been to unwrap her present.

She’d returned to the bed, lifted off the paper cover he’d made, and had revealed a large cage, full of hamster toys and surmounted by a hooped plastic tunnel that could be used as a carrying handle for the cage.

The milk-and-honey-coloured occupant had pushed his nose through the bars and peered curiously up at her.

‘Dad, he’s gorgeous. Can I take him to school?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘I’ll take care of him. He’ll be with me the whole time,’ she’d wheedled.

‘The cage is heavy.’

‘Not for me. Please, Dad.’ Another bear hug. One that took his breath away.

‘I’ll think about it.’

Alice had opened the cage, lifted out her present and cradled him gently in the palms of her hands. The tiny creature had looked up at her, whiskers twitching, eyes wide, trusting and unafraid.

‘He loves you already.’

‘And I love him, Dad.’ She’d lifted him high, brushing his fur against her cheek. It had been an image Patrick had cherished. But time had been ticking on.

‘You’d better get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast before your mother shouts at both of us.’

She’d returned the hamster to the cage, closed it and looked plaintively at him.

‘All right,’ he’d relented. ‘But carry him carefully.’

‘I promise, Dad.’ She’d carried the cage out, but not before she’d blown him a ‘thank you’ kiss from the door.

Tired from his interrupted night, he’d left the bed, gone into the bathroom, cleaned his teeth and showered under scalding water for ten blissful minutes. When he’d heard Louise and Alice’s voices in the hall, he’d stopped drying himself, had grabbed his towelling robe and run down the stairs, trailing water on the carpet. Louise had been holding out Alice’s jacket, waiting for her to slip her arms into the sleeves.

‘That’s a beautiful silver chain you’re wearing,’ he’d complimented archly, knowing just how much effort it had cost Louise to track down a chain similar to one
Alice
had admired in a book illustration.

‘Isn’t it?’ Alice had fingered it. ‘Mum gave it me. I love it.’

Louise had frowned when Alice had put on her jacket. ‘I still don’t see why I can’t walk you to school.’

‘That would be ridiculous,’ Alice had dismissed. ‘No other nine-year-olds in my class are walked to school by their mothers. Please, stop nagging me, Mum. I’ll be fine.’

Louise had turned to him, mutely appealing for help, but he’d known better than to step into a disagreement between mother and daughter.

Conceding she’d lost the argument, Louise had handed Alice her lunch box and opened the front door. ‘All right, Alice, you can walk yourself to school, but I warn you: nine-year-olds have an extra sandwich in their lunch. And they have to eat it.’

Alice had picked up her lunch box and the hamster cage and stepped outside. ‘I’ll never manage it. I’m not any bigger than I was yesterday and neither is my appetite. Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad.’

He’d run back up the stairs, picked up a paper envelope from the dressing table, opened the bedroom window and shouted, ‘Hey, birthday girl.’

He’d waited until she’d looked up at him before tearing the envelope open and shaking the contents over her.

The confetti had cascaded down, a shower of glittering multicoloured rain.

And that’s how he liked to remember his daughter. Standing outside the house she’d been carried into as a
newborn
, while glitter floated and sparkled around her like fairy dust.

‘Have a great day, honey.’

Beaming, Alice had smiled and waved up at him and then at Louise, before turning and walking down the garden path. Below him, Louise had taken her time to close the front door. He’d suspected that she too had been watching Alice and regretting – just a little – the speed at which their daughter had been growing up.

He’d been lying on the bed when Louise had brought two cups of coffee upstairs. She’d placed them on the bedside cabinet before looking down on him.

‘You had a busy night, Patrick. You must be tired.’

He’d reached up and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him. ‘Not that tired.’

He had begun to unbutton her shirt. She’d smiled the slow lazy smile he loved.

Coffee forgotten, they’d rolled over on the bed, kissing, stroking, fondling one another, and slowly undressing, taking their pleasure at a leisurely pace, secure in the knowledge that each knew the other’s body as intimately as their own.