So Melissa was alone as the doctor continued to explain that Joel’s condition would deteriorate over the years, until he would eventually need to be in a wheelchair – maybe even as early as eight, which was exactly when Joel did end up going into his wheelchair. He’d need regular appointments with a specialist and a physiotherapist, the doctor continued. It would be a challenge, but many boys like Joel survived well into adulthood, thanks to advances in medicine, despite the average age of death from the condition being twenty-six.
Melissa had tried to remain calm up until then. Wheelchairs, she could cope with. Appointments and medicines, daily massages and around-the-clock care during bad times, she could cope with too. After all, they had so much support in the village. But the thought of her son dying before her, and so young too, made her feel like the whole world had dropped out from beneath her feet. Patrick had come back in then, drawing her into his arms.
‘We’ll get through this,’ he’d said. And they had. Melissa threw herself into caring for her son, quitting her job as a receptionist at the forest centre to care for him.
She looked at the kids now. If she could get through all that, she could get through this. They all could, especially with people like Jackie and Ross to support them. But only if they told her what had happened!
Jackie let go of Lewis and rolled up her sleeves, turning the tap on. ‘Don’t you lift a finger, we’re here for you. Why don’t you get yourselves ready and we’ll clear up?’
The kids all jumped up and headed upstairs, clearly desperate to excuse themselves from their mother’s interrogation.
‘So shocking,’ Jackie said after they left, scrubbing at a pan as she looked over her shoulder at Melissa. ‘In all my years living here, we’ve had nothing like this – nothing.’
Ross sat across from Melissa and shook his head. ‘I can’t help but wonder if the new factory in Ashbridge is related to all this.’
Jackie rolled her eyes.
‘I’m just saying!’ Ross said. ‘I have nothing against foreigners, you know that, love. I’m just saying we’ve not had much trouble in these parts until that factory opened.’
Melissa kept quiet, forcing herself to nibble at a chocolate brownie, despite not being hungry. Was that what people were assuming? There had been rumbles of discontent since the factory opened and Melissa had certainly noticed more people with foreign accents shopping in Forest Grove’s little boutique shops the past year. But in her mind, that didn’t mean anything negative.
Melissa peered up at the ceiling, listening as the kids got themselves ready. They wouldn’t cover for a random stranger, though, would they?
‘I’m going to try to set up a proper search,’ Ross said. ‘I’m sure other Forest Grovians will be more than happy to help.’
‘I don’t know, Ross,’ Melissa said. ‘We need to leave the police to it.’
‘Fat lot of good they’re doing,’ he said in disgust.
‘There’s not much else they can do, Ross,’ Jackie said. ‘We’ve all seen the police presence. Remember, it’s been less than a day since it happened.’
‘They don’t know Forest Grove like we do, though!’ Ross replied, picking his mobile phone up. ‘If we want to get anything done around here, we need to do it ourselves. I’ll give Tommy Mileham a call, get some of the crew together.’
‘The Crew’ was the name of the original residents of Forest Grove, a tight-knit group of five couples who’d ingrained themselves in each other’s lives over the past twenty-six years, bringing their children up together, spending most weekends together, even holidaying together. It had been that crew who had all been there for Melissa and her mother all those years ago too.
‘I think we need to let the police do their job, really,’ Melissa said, panic fluttering in her chest. Usually, she’d be up for the rest of the community getting involved and sorting out any messes in the village, like when the local allotment was getting vandalised. Bill and Ross had set up a nightly watch and eventually found the culprit, a man from the next town who was trying to jeopardise their chances of winning the county allotment contest. His punishment? He was never allowed to enter the village again, even being marched off the premises of the Neck of the Woods pub when he was seen there a couple of years later with his grandchildren. That was what punishment meant in Forest Grove: ostracism, something that struck fear into the village’s residents.
But this time, Melissa didn’t want the full force of the village behind this, not until she knew what had happened herself.
‘Melissa’s right,’ Jackie said. ‘Don’t go getting all gung-ho, Ross.’
‘Fine. If you say so,’ Ross said with a sigh as he put his phone away.
Melissa breathed a sigh of relief.
‘You must be so worried about the kids,’ Jackie said to Melissa, unplugging the sink and pushing her red glasses up her nose as she regarded Melissa. ‘Any mother would be, to know her children saw their father like that, especially little Grace.’
‘How did they seem when you came to look after them last night?’ Melissa asked.
‘In shock, sweetheart. What about you? It must be so awful for you, worrying about your husband, worrying about the kids too.’
Melissa nodded. Jackie always seemed to get to the crux of the matter. ‘It is. I don’t know how best to approach it. They’re just bottling it all up.’
‘Never any good,’ Ross said.
‘Only natural, though,’ Jackie said. ‘Same happened when our Riley saw the dog get run over when he was seven. Remember that, Melissa? You were living here then.’
‘Oh yes, that was horrible.’
‘Riley didn’t speak for a week,’ Jackie said. ‘I even thought about taking him to see Kitty Fletcher.’
Kitty Fletcher was a local therapist whose book, Raising Children the Kitty Fletcher Way, was a bit of a bible for the mums of Forest Grove. Its premise revolved around not allowing children any screen time at all and focusing instead on outdoor activities.
Think of the glossy screen of a tablet, TV or phone like the open mouth of a dementor from the Harry Potter books, sucking the soul out of your children, Melissa remembered Kitty saying once when she launched her book in the village’s courtyard. At that very moment, Lilly had been taking a selfie for her new Instagram account, which Melissa had let Lilly set up for her thirteenth birthday. Melissa was sure Kitty’s eyes had been drilling into her as she’d said that and she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. She and Patrick had promised themselves they’d reduce the kids’ screen time, something Patrick was always banging on about anyway . . . but then he wasn’t with the kids as much as she was.
Melissa had taken the kids to the Woodland Wonderland area that Kitty had helped create. It was behind the visitor centre and was a large outdoor sensory area that would supposedly keep children entertained for ‘hours on end, whether they’re one month old or sixteen years’. Alongside the usual bug hotels and wooden play equipment for little ones, there were also ‘chillhouse’ huts where teenagers could hide away and talk. There were ‘reading trees’ too, with comfy benches, a particular favourite of Grace’s. It entertained the twins for a while, but the novelty soon wore off and Melissa found herself becoming more lenient again.
Maybe it was something to consider, the kids seeing Kitty? Maybe she could extract what happened out of them.
‘Patrick isn’t a dog, Jackie,’ Ross scolded now. ‘Melissa doesn’t want to go seeing a therapist like Kitty who’ll give anyone who pays her a diagnosis. All the kids need are their family and friends, not strangers poking their noses in.’
‘Kitty’s one of the good ones, Ross, honestly! All I’m saying is,’ Jackie said with a sigh, ‘it’s no good bottling things up.’
‘No, it bloody isn’t,’ Melissa agreed, peering up at the ceiling.
And yet wasn’t that what she was doing too? Not telling the police . . . not telling anyone? Just keeping it all bottled up? But what would Jackie and R
oss think if she came out with it right then, that one of the children might have stabbed their own father, because that was one of the possibilities, wasn’t it? Forget immigrants, it was the children on your very doorstep you needed to worry about. And look what happened when a child did cause problems, like Jacob Simms! His promising career in football wiped away with one flick of a match.
She thought of his bruised face when she first saw him a year ago, fresh from St Fiacre’s Children’s Home. Then she imagined one of her kids looking the same.
She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.
Chapter Ten
Friday 19th April, 2019
10.54 a.m.
‘Morning, all,’ a voice called from the hallway. Rosemary shut the front door behind her and walked into the kitchen.
Jackie strolled over and hugged her. ‘Oh, my love, how awful this must be for you.’
‘Any change?’ Melissa asked.
‘Nothing,’ Rosemary replied as she yawned. ‘They were cleaning him up, so I thought I’d come back, give my boy some privacy.’
Melissa took a deep breath, trying to wrap her head around the fact that her strong, handsome Patrick needed someone else to clean him.
Ross stood up. ‘We’ll leave you to it. Jackie did her famous brownies,’ he said, gesturing to the basket. He went up to Rosemary and gave her a quick hug. ‘We’re here for you. Anything you need . . .’
‘Absolutely anything,’ Jackie added. ‘Just shout. You too, Melissa.’
They both waved then walked out, shutting the door behind them.
‘Kids upstairs?’ Rosemary asked Melissa.
‘Yes, getting ready. Bill’s sleeping.’
‘Good, I’ll go and see them. I need some cuddles.’
Melissa paused. She wanted to go straight to the hospital but she really needed to continue her conversation with the kids. But how could she, with Rosemary here now too?
She’d do it on the way to the hospital. The prospect of seeing their dad laid up in that hospital bed with all those tubes coming out of him might help to drag the truth from them.
Sandy padded up to Melissa, nudging at her hand.
Melissa looked out into the forest, suddenly desperate to get out there. The trees always helped her to get her head straight, and God knows she needed some clarity now before she tackled the kids again.
‘You okay with the kids for twenty minutes or so while I take Sandy out for a quick walk?’ she asked Rosemary.
Rosemary’s brow knitted. ‘What if the person who hurt Patrick is out there?’
‘I’ll be fine, I have my guard dog,’ Melissa said, gesturing to Sandy, who was now running around with his lead in his mouth.
‘Okay. But you mustn’t go too far. You know how easy it is to get lost in the woods when your mind’s not on it.’
Rosemary was right. Many people got lost in the depths of the forest. Even residents tended to stick to the outer circle of the woods during walks, taking the designated paths.
‘I know this forest like the back of my hand, remember?’ Melissa said as she pulled on her wellies.
Rosemary wrinkled her nose, the way she always did when she was reminded of Melissa’s origins, living in the woods.
‘Can you make sure the kids are ready so I can take them to the hospital with me?’ Melissa asked Rosemary.
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Melissa. It’s rather harrowing to see.’
‘He’s their father.’
The two women held each other’s gaze. Ever since Melissa and Patrick married, there had been this subtle underlying tug of war between them, especially when it came to bringing up Rosemary’s precious Byatt grandchildren.
Melissa sighed. She shouldn’t think like that about Rosemary, she 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 with. She would take Melissa’s small hand and place it against this old oak.
‘This is our tree,’ she would say. ‘W
e belong to it. It belongs to us.’
It was her mother’s favourite topic, the healing properties of the forest, both physical and spiritual. She’d collect items from the forest, make herbal remedies out of them. She’d even started selling them to people she’d met in her old job working at a health supplies shop in Ashbridge. Melissa’s dad didn’t like that side of her, though, telling her she was talking ‘mumbo jumbo’ and that, if she wasn’t careful, people would begin to think she was a witch. So she’d restrict that kind of talk and her potion-making to times when she was alone with Melissa.
But now the tree her mother so loved – the tree where she’d died – was dying itself. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it had been home to too much darkness. That was why she’d agreed to Patrick’s proposal to fell the old oak tree to make way for a well-being centre. Ryan was against the idea, certain the tree had more time left in it. But anyone could see it didn’t, and anyway, it was Melissa’s land. She’d been so shocked to discover, via a solicitor’s letter, that her father had passed the land over to her, along with the small cottage that sat on it, after her mother died. He’d moved away from the forest not long after Melissa and her mother had walked out anyway, but had refused to let them return to it. Clearly, the news of his wife’s death had softened him. She never heard from him after that and still had no idea where he was. Melissa had rarely visited the cottage, her childhood home – too many unhappy memories. By the time she was old enough to think of selling it, the cottage had fallen into such disrepair nobody wanted to buy it. In the end, it was knocked down after one of the walls collapsed during a bad storm. If the oak tree eventually went too, the solid patch of land would enable them to ‘give something back to the community’, as Patrick put it. And it would give Melissa some closure, too, after all that had happened at that tree.
Patrick had used the centre as part of his pitch to residents when he was campaigning to get the ten nomination signatures he needed to stand as a councillor for them.
Wall of Silence Page 6