Melissa thought of that ancient oak again. A broken branch. A silver ballet shoe on the ground.
She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t the darkness just stop?
Chapter Seven
Friday 19th April, 2019
6.13 a.m.
I pretend I’m asleep when Mum checks in on us. I wish I could sleep. I haven’t all night. I keep feeling the blade slicing into Dad. How hot his blood felt on my fingers. Sticky too. And that gasp of surprise he gave before he fell down.
I press my face into my pillow to stop myself from crying out and Mum’s shadow stretches across the room. She begins to walk over and I make my breath slow and deep like I do sometimes when she tries to wake me up for school. She leans down and kisses my cheek.
Can she taste the salt of my tears?
I don’t open my eyes no matter how much I want to, because if I do, I think I’ll tell her everything and it was agreed earlier that we definitely couldn’t.
I think she’s going to leave but she stays where she is, watching me, and I can almost hear her brain trying to puzzle it all out. She knows something’s up, and we’ll be getting the third degree when we wake.
She eventually leaves the room and I let out a quick succession of breaths. Outside, she begins talking to Nan in little whispers. The landing goes silent and I hear them walking down the stairs.
I wonder whether to wake the other two just so I don’t feel so alone in Nan and Grandad’s massive attic room. I used to get scared here when I was little, swore I could see eyes watching me in the eaves. I’d hide under the covers, get all hot and sweaty and wish Mum and Dad didn’t have a social life so we never had to come here some Saturday evenings while they went out. I wonder if Mum used to feel the same when she lived in this attic, first with Grandma Quail then on her own. Nan and Grandad have even kept Mum’s drawings of trees on the walls.
There’s one drawing I always look for whenever I’m here, of a huge oak tree with two sets of eyes staring out from a hollow inside. The eyes look scared and there’s a shadow stretching across the ground in front of the tree.
I know what tree it is. Now I know what happened there as well. I wish I didn’t, though.
God, I’m so tired. I’ll be a right state when I get up. What if I slip up and say something I shouldn’t?
I twist and I turn but it’s no use, I just can’t sleep. So I get up and lie on the floor, ear and cheek to the ground to get as close as I can to Mum’s room below. I think I can hear her breathing and I start to cry, my tears soaking the carpet.
I hope she never finds out what happened. I hope she never has to know it was me who did it.
Chapter Eight
Forest Grove Facebook Chit Chat Group
Friday 19th April, 2019
8.56 a.m.
Kitty Fletcher
Just wanted to post my love and sympathies for the whole Byatt family and hope and pray Patrick Byatt makes a speedy recovery. Can’t even imagine what they must be going through.
Eamon Piper
What are you talking about? I only saw Patrick at the cafe yesterday.
Belinda Bell
There was a post about it yesterday but looks like it’s been deleted this morning. There was an incident at the Byatts’ house yesterday afternoon. Andrea Cooper, why did you delete the post? Isn’t this group called ‘News and Chit Chat’?
Andrea Cooper
Please refer to the rules, Belinda.
Rebecca Feine
Probably because of Graham Cane’s moronic comments, Belinda.
Peter Mileham
Back to the topic at hand! Sadly, with Rosemary and Bill’s permission, I can confirm my good friend Patrick was injured (stabbed) yesterday in an attack in his own home. They suspect it was a break-in. His kids found him.
Pauline Sharpe
Stabbed? My God. What the hell is happening to Forest Grove lately? Wasn’t there a break-in on Birch Road last month? It must have something to do with the factory that opened in Ashbridge and all those immigrant workers. All my prayers and condolences to the Byatts.
Eamon Piper
Have to confess, that thought did occur to me too, Pauline.
Debbie Lampard
My brother knows people who work at the factory through his health and safety