was a good person, really . . . and her son was lying in hospital.
She put her hand on Rosemary’s arm. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’ll see how they are when I get back.’
Rosemary gave her a brief smile. Melissa grabbed Sandy’s lead and headed out.
‘Oh, there’s been a problem with giant hogweed too!’ Rosemary shouted after her. ‘It’s poisonous, so keep Sandy away from it, okay? Just stick to the designated paths!’
‘Okay!’ Melissa called back to her as the back door swung shut. When she stepped outside, she paused, taking in a deep breath. She instantly felt better, being out of the house. The late-morning sun was a bright yellow, casting light in fine gold diagonal slices through the wildlife meadow Rosemary had created in her garden. It was one of Jackie and Rosemary’s little projects, encouraging residents to let their grass grow, including the prettier weeds, so their gardens became a haven for wildlife. Melissa had started growing one herself and she’d even helped Jackie write some leaflets to drop into people’s letterboxes to encourage them to do the same too. The gardens of Forest Grove were starting to look rather wild but beautiful, with the soft white petals of mouse-ear chickweeds and the sprightly yellow of creeping buttercups beginning to thrive. Some people weren’t a fan, though, like Andrea, who’d complained about it on the Facebook group last summer. But she was quickly shouted down by people who loved the scent of the petals and the draw the wild flowers provided for mini-beasts and for wild animals like hedgehogs and foxes seeking sheltered places to sleep during the day.
Melissa passed the meadow and headed into the forest, Sandy darting off ahead of her, leaping over roots and logs to sniff out deer and squirrels. At first, Melissa kept to the designated path, calling Sandy back each time he strayed too far. As a child, it was these paths that Melissa would keep away from, instead heading into the deepest, darkest heart of the forest with Ryan. She found herself stepping off the designated path now too, the soles of her wellies sinking into the quilted mulch.
In the distance, a fat red dog fox paused, regarding Melissa before disappearing from sight into a groove in the forest floor. She liked to think it was one of the four cubs she’d hand-reared five years earlier when she found their tiny forms gathered around their dead mother on the side of the road one cold spring morning. She’d spent day and night feeding and caring for them, using everything she’d learnt from her mother, who’d done the same when they’d lived in the forest. Then she’d released them back into the wild, the kids watching in awe as their little friends darted off into the undergrowth. Word had got out and now, whenever an injured or orphaned hedgehog or fox was found, Melissa would be the first port of call, the local wildlife centre being a good hour’s drive away. She couldn’t always help, especially now that she was working full-time, but she did what she could.
That was why Melissa liked going out in the morning: there was more chance of seeing wildlife, especially deer. Sometimes, if she was lucky, she’d catch sight of a herd of deer, the same herd that would sometimes venture out into Rosemary and Bill’s back garden to lie in the afternoon sun.
Melissa finally reached the point where she needed to be – a small clearing right in the heart of the forest, where its ancient great oak stood. Several metal struts supported its structure, but it was clear it was nearing its end, grey and decaying. The wooden bench around it looked like new, though, designed and maintained by Ryan. Two initials were carved beautifully into the backrest: RQ.
Ruby Quail. Melissa’s mother.
Melissa walked to the tree, ducking under the rods to reach its trunk. She placed her hand on the bark, feeling its rough texture beneath the soft skin of her fingers. She closed her eyes, breathing in and then out, finding a rhythm with the sway of the branches as her mother had taught her to. As a child, her mother told her stories of the Senoi people of Malaysia, who believe each person has a ‘partner’ tree, a specific tree that they ‘bond’ with. This could go on through the generations, her mother told her, with trunks growing from the roots of an original tree, providing new trees for generations to bond