‘Yep. Just tired.’
Bill took the seat across from Melissa and took a long slug of his coffee. ‘So,’ he said, placing his cup down, ‘are you going to tell us what’s going on?’
Melissa blinked.
‘We know you’re keeping stuff from us, Melissa,’ Rosemary said. ‘You shouldn’t bottle things up. You did that after Joel died, and look what happened then.’ She leaned forward, placing her hand over Melissa’s. ‘Let us help you this time, for the kids’ sakes.’
They were right. It had gone too far. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been keeping quite a few things from you,’ she admitted.
‘Not to worry,’ Bill said. ‘You’re going to tell us now, aren’t you?’
She nodded and, over the next twenty minutes, she told Bill and Rosemary everything. They listened intently and quietly, every now and again exchanging surprised or worried looks. This was their son Melissa was talking about, after all; their beloved grandchildren too.
When Melissa finished, Bill peered up at the ceiling towards the attic room where the children were, as Rosemary chewed at her lip, lost in thought.
‘You’re sure, absolutely sure, they’re not covering for someone?’ Bill asked for the second time.
‘Yes, pretty sure,’ Melissa said with a sigh. ‘Call it mother’s instinct.’
‘I can’t believe the kids would do this to their dad,’ Rosemary said. ‘How awful for that to be the last thing my poor Patrick knew before he collapsed.’
‘There’s nothing else you’re keeping from us, is there, Melissa?’ Bill asked, his brown eyes boring deep into hers. ‘No reason you know of for one of the kids wanting to hurt their dad?’
Melissa shook her head. ‘Nothing. I promise. Other than all those rumours about him cheating.’
Rosemary took in a sharp breath. ‘There are rumours about you cheating too.’
‘Which are false,’ Melissa said.
‘Even if the rumours are true, a child wouldn’t attempt to murder their father over something like that,’ Bill said firmly.
Rosemary looked out towards the swaying trees, tears falling down her cheeks. ‘It must be a mix-up. Misinformation. Lewis would have got himself into a state – you know how he is.’
‘Lewis?’ Melissa asked. ‘How can we be so sure it’s Lewis?’
‘Oh, come on, Melissa,’ Rosemary said gently. ‘We love our grandson with all our hearts. But he has a temper on him. And the police obviously have their suspicions. Other people too, judging by this,’ she said, gesturing towards the crumpled poster Bill had pulled out, the words DAD KILLER scrawled above Lewis’s face.
‘Now, Rosemary, we mustn’t jump to conclusions,’ Bill warned.
‘If I could go back, I’d just tell the police right from the start,’ Melissa admitted.
‘No!’ Bill said. ‘You did absolutely the right thing, not telling the police.’
Rosemary nodded. ‘Yes, I think Bill’s right. Keep it here in Forest Grove. That’s always the best way.’
‘What’s the point of all this anyway?’ Melissa said with a bitter laugh. ‘Patrick will wake soon and tell all. Maybe if you guys talk to the kids, they might confess. If we know the whole picture, we can get ahead of the game before Patrick says something.’
As she said that, she realised how awful it sounded, the implication that they should try to convince Patrick to lie. There had been a voice deep inside her, building and building lately. A voice that said if one of the kids had hurt their own dad, then surely they needed to be punished. Or, more importantly, surely they needed to be looked after by professionals? But that voice was trampled down by her maternal instinct to protect . . . and also by her trust in her children. For them to do something like this, they must have had a reason, a bloody good one too.
‘Patrick will protect those kids, no matter what,’ Rosemary said.
‘Just like you’ve been doing,’ Bill added, taking Melissa’s hands in his large ones as he smiled sadly at her. ‘You’ve done the right thing, exactly what Patrick would do too, I’m sure of it. He’d want to deal with it within the family, get whoever did this the help they need. I’m proud of you, Melissa. Maybe you have some of that Byatt spirit in you, after all. Right, Rosemary?’
Rosemary nodded, reluctantly so it seemed to Melissa. ‘It must have been such a burden for you the past week.’
Melissa felt tears prick at her eyes. ‘It’s been awful.’
‘Well, you’re not alone now, sweetheart,’ Rosemary said, stroking her arm. ‘You have us. You’re right, I can talk to the kids, maybe get the truth out of them?’
‘No,’ Bill said, shaking his head. ‘They’ve been through enough. No more grilling the kids, understand?’
The two women nodded.
‘You can trust us to get this sorted,’ Bill said to Melissa. ‘Just like we did before.’
Melissa thought back to that time, how they’d found her hiding in the cavity of the big oak tree, shaking and terrified, waiting for her mum to come and find her. And then an hour later, when Bill and the other man returned from going back out to confront her father.
‘Your father’s not going to hurt you or your mother any more,’ Bill said to Melissa, eyes deep in hers.
‘Why? Is he okay?’ Melissa had asked. Despite all Melissa had seen her father do to her mother, despite how he’d treated her, he was still her father.
‘He’ll be fine,’ Tommy said, stroking the bruises on his knuckles. ‘He just got a piece of his own medicine, that’s all. Like Bill said, he won’t be bothering you again.’
‘You’re not to mention any of this, you hear me?’ Bill said to Melissa. ‘We’ve sorted it.’
As he said that, she’d seen a face watching from outside.
Ryan.
‘Melissa?’ Bill had said firmly. She turned back towards him. ‘Do you understand?’
She looked towards the window again, but Ryan was gone.
‘Melissa?’ Rosemary said. ‘Are you listening?’
‘Yes,’ she’d said, nodding slowly. ‘I understand.’
The next time she saw her father was two weeks later at the shopping courtyard. His face was heavily bruised and he was walking on crutches. He’d clearly taken a beating, and Melissa was conflicted. Half of her saw the justice of it. But she also felt a pinch of sadness. She’d seen glimpses of some good in her dad, like the way he’d orchestrate complicated games in the woods for her. Or at Christmas, when he’d come home dressed as Santa, bringing a mountain of presents. When she compared him to Ryan’s dad, he really didn’t seem so bad sometimes.
When she heard he’d left Forest Grove for good, she barely noticed. Life at Rosemary and Bill’s seemed like a breeze compared to her old life. No more arguments in the night, no more enduring her mum’s screams. No more rotting floorboards and freezing-cold bathroom; no more thin stews for dinner and holes in her shoes. Everything was better at Rosemary and Bill’s. Even now Melissa knew they’d just been using her as a way to gain popularity in the village, it was still the best home Melissa had ever known and they were kind to her, if a little cold sometimes. Fact was, Melissa was a teenager with a new bedroom that had a TV and a wardrobe full of clothes, and there was Patrick too, gorgeous, charming Patrick, who seemed just as delighted with her presence in his house as she was.
Then her mum died and the honeymoon period came to an abrupt end.
‘Melissa?’ Bill said now, pulling her away from her memories. ‘We sorted it before, we can sort it again, understand?’
Melissa nodded, just as she’d nodded at that very same kitchen table over twenty-five years ago. ‘Yes, I understand.’
Melissa spent the next day with the kids while Rosemary and Bill stayed with Patrick. She’d pulled the twins back out of school. It had been too soon and, with all the rumours circulating, she felt it best to keep them away. While Patrick seemed reasonably stable, it was a good chance to spend some proper time with the kids a week after he was attack
ed . . . plus, with it becoming increasingly clear Patrick had cheated on her, she felt she needed to process it before she saw him again.
Bill came back from the hospital sometimes, but he seemed even more preoccupied than usual. Melissa tried not to think about why; all she knew was that he was ‘handling’ stuff. Part of her wondered if she was relinquishing too much control, but the truth was she was exhausted with the burden of it being solely on her shoulders. It felt good to spend a day with the kids, walking through the forest with the three dogs, wordless, quiet.
As they strolled in the forest, they bumped into Samantha Perks. Melissa felt awful. She hadn’t even texted her to check in on her daughter, Caitlin, after her run-in with some giant hogweed. Samantha was walking her dog alone, lost in thought.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said, smoothing her fair hair back when she noticed Melissa and the kids. She frowned as she took in Lilly. Lilly raised her hand awkwardly and Samantha smiled tightly at her.
‘I heard about what happened to Caitlin,’ Melissa said. ‘How is she?’
‘Not great,’ Samantha replied, her eyes still on Lilly. ‘We think her sight will be okay, though.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ Melissa said, putting her hand to her chest.
‘It’ll take a while for her skin to recover.’
‘Skin?’
‘Yes, huge boils and burns to the skin. Horrible to see. Make sure you keep away from the stuff, Lilly,’ Samantha said, eyes narrowing as she looked at Lilly.
Melissa looked between them both. What was that all about?
‘Did Caitlin find the giant hogweed in the forest?’ Grace asked, fascinated as she always was with anything like that.
‘Oh no,’ Samantha replied. ‘Caitlin wouldn’t go around picking flowers willy-nilly. They were left outside our house as part of a congratulations bouquet for getting the part, we presumed. It was an anonymous bouquet, just one word on the card: Congratulations.’
Lilly flicked at some invisible dust on her sleeve.
‘What, someone put the weed in a bouquet?’ Melissa asked Samantha, alarmed.
‘That’s my theory,’ Samantha said, eyes still drilling into Lilly. ‘But Caitlin’s a lovely girl, as you know. She refuses to believe someone would be so mean.’
Melissa looked between Samantha and Lilly again. Did Samantha think Lilly had done it?
Why not? a little voice asked in Melissa’s head. After all, she had thought she knew her children. She had thought they couldn’t be capable of anything truly horrendous. But recent events had changed that.
‘I’d better go,’ Samantha said, turning away. But then she paused, turning back to Lilly. ‘Congratulations on getting the lead, Lilly,’ she said, her voice brittle. ‘You be careful if you get any flowers delivered, won’t you, now?’ she added with a hard stare. Then she stalked off through the woods.
Melissa turned to Lilly. ‘You got the lead role? Why didn’t you say?’
Lilly shrugged. ‘I only found out yesterday.’
‘But you could have told us last night,’ Melissa replied. ‘Or this morning.’
Lilly let out a dramatic sigh. ‘It’s no big deal, Mum.’
‘I presume you messaged Caitlin?’ Melissa asked Lilly. ‘Just to check she’s okay.’
Lilly peered down at the ground. ‘Why would I?’
‘Well, it’s just polite. You got the part after she got ill.’
‘She’s not my friend.’
‘But imagine how you’d feel in her shoes?’ Melissa said.
Lilly shrugged.
Melissa shook her head as she looked at Lilly. What had made her so cold?
And then a thought occurred to her: if Lilly had given Caitlin the giant hogweed to scupper her role, what else was she capable of?
When they got back from their walk, Melissa’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, noticing it was an email from Kitty Fletcher.
Hello Melissa,
It’s good to hear from you. I was very much hoping you’d get in contact. Probably too short notice but I have a cancellation this evening at 6pm? If you’re free, please call me or email me back at your earliest convenience. Alternatively, I have a free spot next Tuesday at three.
Best wishes,
Kitty Fletcher
PhD, MBACP (Snr. Accred.) UKCP
Melissa looked at the clock. It was half five. She quickly typed back I’ll be there at six.
As she finished typing, the front door opened and Bill walked in, looking exhausted.
‘Bill, can you watch the kids for a bit?’ she asked him. ‘I just need to pop out for an hour or so.’
‘Sure.’
After checking on the kids, she headed outside. Kitty lived on Birch Road, which curled around the inner circle, where Bill and Rosemary lived. As she approached the road, Melissa could see the therapist’s house had been extended with the addition of a big area that jutted out from the second floor, a large window overlooking the treetops of the forest. Clearly Kitty’s books were making her money.
There was a sign on the door announcing: Kitty Fletcher, Therapist. Usually you’d expect people would want some discretion when it came to visiting a therapist, but Kitty was seen as a Forest Grovian and thus different from other therapists. If you had to see a therapist, then Kitty was the one to go to, and that was absolutely fine by the village residents. It looked like Patrick had bought into that, considering he’d booked secret therapy sessions with Kitty for the children.
Melissa buzzed on the door, taking in the metal owl wall ornament that watched her from nearby. There was the sound of movement behind the door then Kitty answered it, the woody scent of her perfume drifting out of the door.
‘Oh, Melissa, I’m so pleased you’re here.’
It was strange being face to face with her. She was probably the village’s most famous resident, with her occasional appearances on national TV to promote her books.
‘Hi, Kitty,’ Melissa said.
Kitty opened the door and Melissa stepped in, looking around her. It was a busy hallway, with a hanger full of different-coloured coats and a bench cluttered with books.
‘Come up to my rooms,’ Kitty said, steering Melissa towards the stairs. ‘I’d usually charge but, due to the peculiarity of your situation, I’m willing to waive my fee.’
‘Thanks,’ Melissa said uncertainly. She hadn’t really seen it as a therapy session. She just needed to get some answers about Patrick’s visit here. Melissa followed Kitty into a side room upstairs. When Kitty opened the door, she realised it led into her extension, a vast room with great views of the forest from above. Colourful beanbags lay on the floor, a patchwork chaise longue at one end, two huge comfy sofas at the other, facing each other. There was a wooden desk too, with a chair on either side. Around the room were photos of Kitty at various events and a large bookcase was filled with her books.
‘Choose where to sit,’ Kitty said. ‘Wherever you feel most comfortable.’
Melissa decided to sit in front of the desk. She wanted something solid between the two of them, as if it might protect her from Kitty’s probing green eyes.
Kitty sat across from her, tilting her head, her face shimmering with some kind of light, translucent powder. Her lips were pearly pink and her scarf was the colour of the ocean, her dress too. Melissa suspected she was about sixty, but she looked younger.
‘You look so like your mother,’ Kitty commented.
‘You knew my mum?’
Kitty’s face darkened slightly, then she shrugged. ‘Oh, just from around town back in the day. Now, how are you doing?’
Melissa shifted around in the chair, trying to make herself comfortable. ‘It’s been tough, I can’t lie.’
‘Of course, of course. Your mind feels rather busy, I expect. All jumbled up, like the back room of a charity shop.’
Melissa couldn’t help but smile at the image. ‘Something like that. Look, Kitty, I’m not actually here for a session. Just a chat.’
‘Tha
t’s a very healthy way of putting it, Melissa.’
Melissa sighed. No point contradicting her. ‘I just wanted to ask about when we brought the twins here.’
Melissa had thought carefully on the walk over to Kitty’s about how to approach this meeting. There was a chance Patrick hadn’t told Kitty he’d kept the sessions from Melissa. He was astute enough to know a therapist would disapprove if they knew. So if Melissa could make out she was in on the sessions, she might get a bit more out of this conversation.
‘That was a very long time ago,’ Kitty said.
So that was it confirmed, then, Melissa thought. The children were brought here by Patrick.
‘I know. About ten or eleven years ago, right?’ Melissa said, trying to make sure her voice didn’t betray her emotions. ‘I was busy with my studies so Patrick was always the one to bring them.’
Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Yes. So, how many sessions was it again?’
‘Let me think. Maybe ten? Why are you asking about those sessions, Melissa?’ She smiled, her eyes quizzical.
‘Well, the kids are struggling.’
Kitty nodded. ’Understandable.’
‘And I thought we might be able to glean something from the sessions you had with them back then to help with coping strategies now.’
‘I see. As I always tell my clients, children are changeable creatures, evolving all the time, drawing on influences from all around them as they do and being moulded by those influences too.’ She sighed. ‘The children I saw back then may be very different from the ones they are now, Melissa. So the best way forward would be for us to book in some new sessions for the twins, for your youngest too.’ She picked up the iPad in front of her, which struck Melissa as rather ironic, considering her teaching about the need for all people to reduce screen time. ‘I have some availability next week?’ she suggested.
‘No, I don’t want to book them in.’
Kitty placed her iPad down and leaned back in her chair, putting her fingers together as she examined Melissa’s face. ‘Looking back on past sessions will not help, Melissa. I want to make that very clear.’
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