He kept refilling my wine, and I just couldn’t say no. He was saying how Sonia was getting delusional – seeing and hearing things what weren’t there.
—What sorts of things?
—I don’t know. I just remember his face in that flickering firelight. He looked like he’d given up. I felt sorry for him. He says that this was their only holiday since Alfie was born, but she’s even managing to spoil this for him. She’ll be a mess tomorrow, he says. That’s why you’re here. Cos I know I can trust you. I know you’ll have my back if anything … happens.
—What did he mean by that?
—I honestly think he was scared.
—Of what?
—Sonia. He said she was really good at pretending. She was good at hiding her drinking. He said he just wanted someone to see what he had to deal with. Just once. He said I was his best friend; he had never known anyone like me, that he always thought about me and wished we could have kept our friendship going.
—Did you ask him why it had been so many years since he’d been in touch?
—He said it was all Sonia’s doing. She was unreasonably jealous; she used to open his post, go through the phone bill. He said that if he wanted to go out and do things with his female friends, she wouldn’t let him. If he so much as talked to a woman, she would lose her mind. ‘What do you need female friends for when you’ve got me?’ That kind of thing. Sorrel said that, despite all the years that had passed, I was the best friend he’d ever had, and I always would be. He said that if I was there with them, he would be safe, but more importantly, so would Alfie.
—What?
—I know, right? But right then it made sense somehow. Like I said, he had this way of talking to you that made you feel amazing. I’d forgotten how he was able to do that to me. All those years he’d been gone, and I’d fallen further and further, but now I felt like I was something again, thanks to him. It all feels so cheap now, though.
—Why is that, Wendy?
—Cos he went and spoiled it all, didn’t he?
—What do you mean?
—Well, we’re talking, and he’s getting closer and closer to me, snuggling up. I didn’t think nothing of it, but suddenly I can feel his hand on my thigh.
—Sorrel made a pass at you?
—Yeah and it felt so awful. After all those years of us being friends, of being able to talk. I didn’t want this. I wanted to help him, maybe even tell him what was going on in my life. But he didn’t even give me that chance.
Wendy says that, despite being half drunk, she managed to wriggle away from Sorrel. She also says that maybe the move was made out of desperation and tiredness rather than any sort of real desire.
Unfortunately this tumultuous first night does not end here.
Wendy says she feigned tiredness and retired to her tent but was unable to fall asleep.
—I was just so het up after what happened – the argument, Sorrel, I just lay there in the dark with my eyes open. And I kept hearing things.
—What sorts of things?
—I’ve always lived in the city so I’m used to noise at night: cars, people shouting, cats, whatever. In that forest, the silence was massive. Every little noise seemed louder. Everything sounded like footsteps, like something brushing against my tent. I kept thinking of Alfie pointing into the trees, all that ‘bad piggy’ stuff. It gave me the chills. It was cold. I could feel every single goose bump rising on my arms. I kept wondering what would happen if I looked out of the tent and I was on my own. The car, the others, all gone. Then there was that stupid story of Sorrel’s; those wood-knockers. It was stupid, but there in the darkness, I could see them; their rows of little teeth, their blind eyes, making snuffling noises like pigs. I was terrified. And I swear on my life I could hear tapping as well. Far off in the distance, tapping and laughter, like someone was playing a joke on me.
—Are you sure you could hear tapping?
—No. I’m not. It could have been a dream, it could have been my imagination. It could have been, I dunno, a woodpecker or something. But it scared me so bad.
—Did you fall asleep at all?
—I must have done. But I kept waking up. I kept hearing things.
—What sort of things?
—It must have been a dream, but it was like something was touching the outside of the tent.
—An animal?
—I can’t say. Whatever it was, was pressing on the canvas. Then it would move and make this sound, a high-pitched scraping. It was as if someone was running long fingernails over the side of the tent. I just closed my eyes and pulled my sleeping bag over my head.
—Did the noise go away?
—Eventually. But if anything, the silence was worse. I was just waiting for the next thing. For a while I considered going to Sorrel and Sonia’s tent and seeing if either of them was awake. But I was too scared to move. That’s when things got worse.
Because suddenly there was a scream and I woke up. My mouth was all dry and it was pitch-black, I had no idea where I was.
The screaming was still coming, though. It was Alfie.
—Alfie had a nightmare? That’s not surprising I guess.
—It wasn’t coming from their tent, though. I’d pitched my tent right next to Sonia and Sorrel’s. The screams were coming from further back, in the trees.
—Could you have been confused?
—Yeah. Of course. But I wasn’t. I felt around and got out my torch. I turned it on but cupped the light with my hand. I still dunno why I done that. I think it was the feeling in the forest, like it was watching. I didn’t want it to see me.
But I could still hear Alfie. He was screaming and crying, like a little baby, you know?
—Jesus.
—I’ve never been more frightened in my whole life. I know what they say about that forest: that there’s strange things in there. I thought, what if it’s a spirit or something, trying to get me to come out of my tent? What if the others are gone and it’s just me on my own with the ghosts?
—And did you look out of your tent?
—Eventually. I listened out for a while first cos I thought if it was Alfie he must be with Sorrel or Sonia. I didn’t think he would be wandering about on his own in the dark in the middle of the night. I started to unzip the tent, slow and steady, trying not to make any noise. I had it in my head that if I looked out something would look back. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hardly hold the zip.
I got braver, pulled the zip all the way down and got out. That’s when I heard something else. It came from far away in the trees. It still sounded like Alfie, but muffled, as if he’d put his head inside something. Or something had been put over his mouth. I’m shining the torch about at the sound of the noise. My hands were still trembling and the light was everywhere. There was this big wall of trees and I could hear something crashing around. I froze. Something was coming out of them trees. Something was coming for me. I shone my torch at the trees and that’s when I saw them.
—Them?
—You’re going to think I’m insane. That’s ok. No one’s going to care what an ex-smack-head, alcoholic waster like me thinks she saw a few decades ago in a wood in the middle of the night. No one. So I’ll tell you.
In that torchlight, shaking all over the place, I saw a figure between the trees. It was flitting in and out like a faulty video.
—Was it Alfie? Sorrel?
—I saw my brother between those trees. Seven-year-old Sam. He was pale, like a ghost. He was reaching for me. All around him there was eyes, peeping out of the darkness. It was like something out of a kid’s story book. He was mouthing something, but no sound was coming out. Then he flickered and disappeared…
And suddenly Sorrel comes bursting out the trees with Alfie in his arms.
Sorrel’s got no top on and his hair’s all over the place. Alfie’s got his pyjamas on. And they were both covered in mud and leaves, like they’d been rolling around in the earth.
As soo
n as he sees me, Sorrel freezes, with his mouth open, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Then he comes back to life and starts saying, ‘Oh my God, oh my God.’ And he tells me he heard a noise and he woke up to find that their tent was unzipped and Alfie was gone.
—Gone?
—He says that he found him wandering around in the woods; thanks God he woke up cos of what might’ve happened to him.
—Poor Alfie.
—That little lad was inconsolable. Clinging to his dad like a limpet, he was. He’d gone beyond tears, and his mouth was just opening and closing like a dying fish. He was wheezing, gasping for breath, it was awful.
—What had happened to him?
—I don’t know! It was like he couldn’t breathe, like Sorrel had pulled him from the sea or something.
—Sounds like he was in shock.
—Sorrel said Alfie had got lost, panicked, caught himself up in some brambles, and got a mouthful of earth – nearly suffocated himself. Then I asked Sorrel where Sonia was. He stopped dead, stared off into the trees and in that moment I thought he was going to say something else. And when he turned to me, the look on his face … it was pure hate. He wasn’t disappointed anymore. He said she was still asleep, passed out cos of the drink. And for a second it was like a mask had dropped. There was hate on his face, and then it turned into disgust. I’ll tell you, I felt disgusted too. I started asking him what had happened, how it had happened. But he said we just needed to go. I said I’d go and get Sonia up and tell her, but he stopped me. Alfie was still clinging to him, gasping, and Sorrel, he told me to go and get in the car. I did and then Sorrel peeled Alfie off him and strapped him into his seat. Then Sorrel got in and sat in the car, too. It was the three of us in the back. Sorrel shut the door, turned on the ceiling light. This seemed to calm Alfie down but Sorrel was just looking at me.
He said, ‘Wendy, we need to keep this between us. Sonia won’t get it. She won’t understand.’
I didn’t know what he was on about, but he said we couldn’t tell her what happened, we had to keep it a secret. I asked him why and he said she’d just turn it against him. She’d make out like it was his fault.
‘It wasn’t, though,’ I said, ‘how could it be your fault that Alfie wandered off?’
He told me that Sonia had been different on this trip. Worse than usual. He said he worried about Alfie, that she might do something stupid to him.
—To Alfie? You mean hurt him in some way.
—Or worse.
—Really?
—That’s what Sorrel said. He said Sonia had insisted on coming to Wentshire Forest, where no one else would be. She was the one, he said, who had let Alfie wander off into the woods.
—So why did he tell you, you needed to keep what happened between the two of you?
—He told me how Sonia was at home; that she became ‘unreasonable’ when she was drunk. He was almost in tears, and he said she sometimes got violent. That was the reason for me being there. To protect him. He said that she’d been getting more aggressive at home, that she blamed him whenever things went wrong. And that, if anything bad happened to Alfie, she said she’d take him and she’d get full custody.
—That seems out of character, wouldn’t you say?
—I dunno really. I couldn’t imagine her being like that, but you never know, do you?
—What about Alfie? He still seemed traumatised?
—Yeah, the poor lad. He was different after that. We left just as it started to get light. All the way home, he was quiet. He never tried to sing or nothing like that; just stared out the window. When Sorrel tried to give him a snack, he threw it against the window and screamed. Sorrel didn’t know what to do.
—And Sonia?
—She was no help at all. We had to pack away everything, load up the car at God-knows what time. Sonia just lay in the back of the car, Alfie beside her. They weren’t even touching. He was curled up into a ball; she was just on her back. Still drunk. She could barely even look after herself, let alone Alfie.
—And after that?
—That was the last time I saw them. That was Sorrel, just marched back into my life and out of it again. I never heard from him again, not even when Alfie disappeared.
—Why have you never spoken about this to anyone? Surely this trip into Wentshire Forest must have something to do with what happened?
—Does it really, though? Alfie was never scared of that forest. I have no idea why he ran away in the middle of the night. What could I say that anyone doesn’t already know? Yes, he’d acted strangely on that trip, but imagine if I said that to the media? They would crucify me! He was probably just playing up. There was a lot going on in his life. After that trip I went back to my life. It only got worse. I was on gear until I was forty – until I came here. I saw what the press said about Sonia, how they said it was because of her drinking problem that Alfie disappeared. How Sorrel had to get away from her, how she was violent.
—Did you believe that?
—No. I don’t claim to know Sonia well, but I know her better than them. If she had something to do with it, Sorrel’s covering for her. What I do know is that, despite it all, she loved that boy. She just wasn’t a good mum. All this story does is reinforce that. And who’s going to listen to an old smack-head like me?
—I’ve listened to you.
—I know. But I only spoke to you because someone I trust said that would be OK.
—That’s the same someone who put me in touch with you. What’s their part in this story?
—That’s not for me to say. She’ll tell you, I’m sure of that.
—In your opinion, what happened to Alfie Marsden on Christmas Eve, 1988?
—All I can tell you is that there’s something wrong with that forest. I’m glad you can’t go in it anymore. Someone should burn it, get rid of it. It got in everyone’s heads: mine, Sonia’s, Sorrel’s. Them woods made up that horrible wood-knockers story; something in them woods got Alfie out of his bed, I swear.
—If that is actually what happened…
—Right.
—What do you believe happened when he disappeared?
Wendy pauses and leans forwards in her chair. She takes her teacup in both hands as if to warm them, despite the sun. The chickens cluck contentedly and in this moment, in this little pocket of light, with the scent of the flowers and the stillness in the air, I wish I could take my question back. Wendy’s come here, to this place of peace, to hide from her demons. But there are things in this world that cling to us wherever we go, that permeate whatever defences we put up to guard against them.
Finally, after staring into her tea, she looks up and I see her eyes are glazed over. Her voice is choked when she speaks.
—That little boy wasn’t scared of those woods. I was, though. I was terrified after I saw Sam in those trees. It wasn’t Sam though … it was something in there. I reckon that same something lured little Alfie into them woods all those years later.
Wendy stares at me then, her bottom lip trembling. Her look begs me to laugh, to challenge her. I don’t dare.
—I’ll tell you one last thing. When we were driving home, we were all silent. I had my head against the window, watching the motorway go past. It was raining, everything looking smudged. I just let myself drift asleep. Then suddenly there was this tapping, like someone was outside, like someone with a long fingernail was tapping right on the other side of my head. I jerked awake and screamed. Sorrel swerved and I thought we were going to die. Another stupid dream.
—What about Alfie and Sonia?
—They never even made a sound. I looked up and Sorrel was turned around in his seat staring at me, not looking at the road. I wanted to beg him to turn back round. He took one hand off the wheel, put his finger to his lips and said, ‘Shh.’
And we just kept going like nothing had happened.
Wendy clams up now. She looks worried, tired. These old memories have clearly been difficult for her to
recall.
What can we make of her story of that night in Wentshire Forest? There are several things that need our attention. The first is why Sorrel called Wendy out of the blue and asked her to accompany the family on their holiday? It seems odd, considering they’d not been in contact for a number of years and that, according to Wendy, Sorrel wasn’t in touch afterwards either.
The second point for our attention is the tapping sounds, specifically the ‘wood-knockers’ Sorrel invented to dissuade Alfie from wandering off. Is it a coincidence that others – Callum Wright and Delyth Rice – mention knocking and tapping sounds? It’s possible.
Thirdly and most importantly: what happened in the middle of the night during that camping trip? Did Alfie wander off? Or was he by then too scared of Sorrel’s wood-knockers? Or did something lure him into the trees? Did Sonia Lewis ever know that this happened? And what were the noises that Wendy heard? What was Alfie talking about when he mentioned the ‘bad’ animals in the woods?
These are all questions that Wendy cannot answer.
What we do know is that Alfie Marsden changed significantly after this incident in Wentshire Forest. The amateur and ill-informed psychologist inside me points to this trauma being the switch between the young, sweet Alfie described by his teachers, and the Alfie that Delyth Rice encountered. His home life was certainly also fractured. If we are to believe Sorrel, Sonia’s behaviour at home would have certainly had a huge impact on Alfie’s developing mind, making it prey to the trauma of an incident such as the one Wendy describes.
And then, there are other considerations. Should we take seriously the presence of some sort of other-worldly entities in Wentshire Forest? And if we do, was it them who lured Alfie Marsden from the car on that fateful Christmas Eve? Was Alfie drawn between the oaks and into that darkness for the second time in his short life?
There are two more perspectives on this whole story that we need to address. I need to talk to Sonia Lewis and Sorrel Marsden.
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