by Power, Max
“Your mother’s right darling,” her father chipped in, “she’s most likely on the scent of a rabbit or a rat.”
Libby approached her parents, stomping heavily as she walked over and came to a halt in front of them. They sat on their picnic blanket sipping cups of tea and she stood over them with her hands on her hips trying to look as serious as she could.
“Camera is just a puppy!” She argued, “she doesn’t know her way around this place and she might get lost!”
Libby insisted that Camera was a puppy and would always be a puppy no matter how old she became because she would always be small.
The list and lilting twist of her tiny voice was so incredibly cute. Her father Myles got to his knees and Libby’s mother Janice knew that he was going to leave her there by herself, to go help his daughter find their loopy little dog. She knew it from the moment Libby had started calling Camera’s name. Myles Love lived up to his name. He adored his wife and his daughter equally and Janice knew that although Libby was special, the influence that Myles had on her only added to her charm and kind nature.
But it was much more than that. When Libby was born, everyone was surprised. Some were even disappointed. It was 1951 and children like Libby were for the most part, family secrets. Some even considered them to be mistakes of nature, children that did not have the Lord’s blessing. The families of such offspring were to be pitied, felt sorry for, and their choice was generally stark were their children to survive. There were special places for special children like Libby. That is where they belonged. That was at least how the rest of the world saw their lot. Not Janice Love. Not Myles Love.
From the first moment Myles set eyes on his beautiful, delightful daughter, Myles was in love. He never thought he could feel love like the love he had for Janice, for he adored her, but low and behold there it was again all wrapped up in a tiny little cotton blanket. She was precious. Special alright and no one could tell him different. No one would dare. Janice saw it in him immediately and it was infectious.
Were she to be completely honest, Janice didn’t initially share his joy. Even though she was the one that had carried her for nine months, even though she was the one who suffered eighteen painful hours of labour, Janice was less than ecstatic with the child that she bore. Perhaps it was because she had been the one to suffer, the one closest to her baby during pregnancy, she was the one with the biggest dreams and hopes, the one most likely to be disappointed.
Yet, between Libby and Myles and very quickly, Janice could not but help fall head over heels in love with her odd little daughter. But the prognosis was not good. The doctors all told them the same things and made the same suggestions. She would be better off in a home that could care for her properly. Even their own extended families were of the same opinion and although initially they were happy to express their feelings quite openly, they very quickly came to the conclusion that they should keep their opinions to themselves. Myles in particular was quick to jump to his baby daughter’s defense and quickest to take offence should anyone dare to offer anything other than genuine joy at her arrival into the world.
Myles and Janice adored their daughter and did everything in their power to make her somewhat blighted life, as good a life as they could. There were difficult times in the early days in particular. More than once they had watched death close in on her, only for Libby to come smiling through. Libby was a fighter.
As a baby, things were difficult, but Libby like every infant could not remain a baby forever. She grew like all babies but not all babies were like Libby. She was unique in so many ways in a world not ready for such dramatic difference. When it was time for her to start her education, Libby was treated as a freak. No school would take her, for times were not enlightened as they are now. So Myles and Janice educated her at home all by themselves. The doctors said she would always be slow and perhaps never mature beyond the mind of a nine or ten year old, even as an adult. But they didn’t know the girl. They only spoke of her as a condition. Despite their short sighted assumptions, Libby turned out to be a clever little girl. For Janice and Myles, every day with her was important and they both took only joy from the existence of his special little daughter.
“Come on then!” he grabbed her tiny little hand; “let’s go find the little terror.”
“He’s not a terror, he is a terrier!” Libby corrected him, not for one minute seeing the funny side of her correction.
“Oh that’s right Libby,” Myles answered picking her up and swinging her around which made her laugh her gargantuan laugh, “you’re the little terror!”
They both laughed and Janice watched them skirt along the edge of the wood. Myles took slow short little steps so that his tiny daughter could keep up. Libby held his hand tightly and skipped along at his side, they both called as they went.
“Camera! Camera!”
It was such a strange name for the dog but they had bought her for Libby two years earlier and as the puppy was to be Libby’s dog, they decided that she could name it whatever she liked. She took them quite literally at their word. Libby had been ecstatic with her present. She hugged and kissed her little puppy before eventually handing it to her daddy to hold. Then Libby stepped back to survey her new pet carefully. She had rubbed her chin just like Myles used to when trying to make a decision and after a few moments she announced,
“I have decided. I will call her Camera.”
Neither Janice nor Myles were surprised at her odd choice of name, for nothing surprised them about Libby, but they had to ask,
“Why Camera?”
“Silly…” she replied as though they should understand without explanation. “I just LOOOVE cameras.” It was true. Libby had an obsession with cameras, probably born out of the fact that Myles never stopped taking pictures of her. She had a real one of her own with no film inside, with which she took pretend pictures of everything.
“They are my favourite thing in the world” she continued, before pausing for a moment. “Except for puppies,” she said “and you of course!”
It was a memory etched in their brains and a story recounted with joy, every time they were asked why their little dog had such a strange name.
“Camera? Camera?”
Their voices still called out and Janice smiled as they disappeared into the wood. She heard them call a couple of more times and briefly caught another glimpse of them through the trees and then they were gone.
Janice Love waited for only a short time before becoming worried. She couldn’t help it. That was her nature and when camera came scooting up to her from out of the wood, she could bear it no more. At first, she called out their names. But there was no reply. She walked to the tree line and called again, slightly more fearful but there was still no reply.
Something was wrong. Myles would answer her. Libby would answer her. Janice looked back anxiously at their picnic blanket as if hoping they might have magically appeared there. She looked all around but there was no one else about. Janice just knew, absolutely knew now, that something was awry. Her calls grew from nervous, to anxious, to frightened, to desperate and her pacing became a frantic run through the outer reaches of Darkly Wood, at first shouting but eventually screaming the names of her daughter and her husband.
Janice knew something had happened. Something terrible must have happened. By the time she met Delores and Cynthia Tailor, two sisters from Cranby out on their daily constitutional, Janice was completely hysterical. They tried to calm her down but it was impossible. Delores stayed with Janice while her sister sought help. What had begun as a simple picnic on a day out had turned into a colossal awful and terrifying ordeal. Her call for help transformed her world.
It didn’t take long. Help duly arrived and by nightfall, a large search party from Cranby and the surrounding area were trawling through the woods. There was an air of nervousness among the searchers and at first there was even a sense of excitement, of anticipation. Although some of those that came to help find the m
issing pair were filled with hope and excitement, many among the searchers knew that their efforts would be in vain. They knew that Darkly Wood had taken another two souls. There were some optimists among the search party but the pessimists were in the majority. They were to be proved right and it didn’t take long.
After an hour of searching, they found Myles. He lay prone against an oak tree looking perfectly calm, just like he was asleep. There wasn’t a mark on him, but he was clearly dead. There could be no doubt about that. He was cold and grey and there was no sense of life about him, even from a distance. They sought a pulse, but there was no need to, his heart had long stopped beating. Everyone’s attention immediately focused on finding Libby. There was an increased urgency about their efforts now, an urgency that drew a silence over the search party for a few minutes. But the silence didn’t prevail. This was a little girl that had gone missing. She couldn’t survive a night alone in the Wood, especially a special little girl like Libby. Darkness was descending and lights were lit. At first a lone voice from among the torch bearers called out her name.
“LIBBY?”
The voice faded into silence and there was a pause, then,
“LIBBY?”
It was a desolate cry but after a few moments others joined in. Her name resounded about the Wood over and over again, but no answer came. They searched on, more and more eager to find the little girl but to no avail. They called her name repeatedly,
“Libby? … Libby? … Libby?”
Night drew in and brought the search to a close. There was no moon that night and although there were some, but only a few, who refused to give up even as the cold settled around the edge of the Wood and a blackness as deep as any night descended, most went home. They would begin their search again at first light. That was their promise and they were true to it.
On the afternoon of the second day of searching, dogs were brought in and the local army reserves bolstered their numbers, but it was all for nothing. Day after day they searched and still there was not so much as a scrap of cloth or a tuft of her hair found. The disappearance was complete, the legend grew. Darkly Wood had indeed claimed yet another victim. Libby Love walked into the forest holding her father’s hand, searching for the little dog that she adored and was never seen again.
CHAPTER SEVEN – INTO DARKLY WOOD
The story about Libby was playing on Daisy’s mind. The entire book was playing on her mind. There was something about the stories that enthralled her. Maybe it was the fact that they were all about a place that she could see from her bedroom window, or maybe it was just the stories themselves. Whatever the case, they were all that she could think of which was strange, for all that had filled her head recently was Benjamin Blood. She hadn’t thought about him all morning and that in itself was odd. Such was the draw of her little book.
It was impossible to spend five minutes in their new house without Daisy’s mother finding something ‘useful’ for her to do. Daisy figured that she needed a little time to herself, so she pulled on her favourite pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, her navy hoody and her three stripe sneakers before heading out. She grabbed a yellow scrunchy and used it to keep her hair from her face. Daisy’s hair had been cut back to shoulder length just before they moved, but it was still long enough to get in her face.
“Bye Mum!” was all Daisy shouted as she bounced down the stairs and out through the entrance hall into the street.
“Where are you going?” Isabel called after her and she looked out of the window, knowing full well, that she was not going to get an answer. She was glad that Daisy was going out. Isabel worried that her daughter was bored and at least if she was out and about, there might be a chance that she might make some new friends. She watched Daisy cross the road and walk towards the little bridge that forded the stream and led to the field across the street, before getting back to her painting.
Daisy came to a halt when she reached the tiny little bridge that spanned the stream, just across the street from her house. It was the smallest bridge ever. One could easily jump the stream, but someone had actually built a bridge. It was very old and made of fat beams of wood. She could see through the gaps down to the water. There was a small waist high handrail on one side and Daisy May leaned on it. She looked down into the gurgling bubbling water below. A stone sailed over her shoulder and splashed into the stream beneath her feet.
“Fancy meeting you here!”
Daisy was so startled by the sound of Benjamin’s voice that she jumped, but only slightly. She turned around and smiled when she saw him. He stood there smiling back, tall fair and handsome, just as it should be.
“Hello stranger.” Daisy answered him, “I thought you’d left town or something?” It was a question, although as she didn’t want to appear nosey so she used her jokey voice and laughed ever so gently as she spoke.
“Me? Leave this place? Never!” It was his turn to laugh, “I’m a Cranby boy through and through I’m afraid.”
Benjamin came and stood beside her and looked down into the stream. They both did. Beneath them, the little stream swirled and boiled over the uneven bed and the sound it made was quite soothing. Benjamin broke the small silence. He spoke as though he was answering a question.
“Nah! Been busy, that’s all. I thought I might have seen you about town during the week, but I guess you’ve been kept busy with the move and all?” He looked at her and she looked up at him. He was gorgeous.
“Yeah.” Daisy tried to sound calm but she was almost trembling with excitement. All week long she had thought about Benjamin. Now that he was here standing right beside her, she was all a dither. Daisy worked hard to sound calm and cool.
“My mother is a slave driver,” she joked and they both laughed again. There was nervousness about their conversation and the laughter was a way through it.
“What are you up to now?” Benjamin asked her and then before she could answer he outlined his own plans, “I was just going to go for a walk up by the Wood.” It was an invitation of sorts, or at least that’s how it sounded and there was nothing Daisy would have liked more than to spend the morning in Benjamin’s company.
“I’ve nothing planned” she answered with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “To be honest I’m a bit bored. I have finally got a break from the house, but there’s nothing to do around here.”
She was afraid to misread his invitation and didn’t want to invite herself and perhaps be turned down. That would be just too embarrassing. Benjamin formally invited her and saved her blushes.
“Why don’t you come with me then,” he suggested “I will show you around.”
She would have jumped up in the air and clicked her heels, but that would have given her feelings away. Instead she simply answered, in as casual a fashion as she could manage.
“Sure, why not.”
Benjamin led her across the little makeshift bridge into the field beyond where Daisy had seen the young boy on the day of her move to Cranby. She had all but forgotten about him. It wasn’t really a field per say as it was unfenced, one huge open expanse of meadow. Locals and visitors treated it as common land, although it was in fact owned by the current Lord, Andrew Darkly.
He didn’t live up at the old house as previous generations did. No one lived there anymore. It was a sad, decrepit, decaying old house now, too expensive for the family to keep for more than a generation past. The building still stood, but it was slowly falling apart. In recent years, it had been fenced off to keep people out. In truth there was nothing to take, but the crumbling roof presented a danger to trespassers. So it lay empty and isolated now. Andrew Darkly lived in the city. He never came to Cranby despite his many interests there. It was a gradual distancing over the generations, but more and more, ever since the tragedy that befell Terrence and Honey, the Darkly family had lost their fondness for that particular residence. It had at one time, been a fabulous example of a country manor, but gradually it was demoted to a country retreat for the family. As one ge
neration replaced the next, it fell more and more out of favour. There were times when an entire season would pass without sight of a Darkly in the estate.
In times just gone, the house became essentially obsolete, the newer generations of Darkly choosing to summer in foreign climes and they began to conduct their local interests by proxy, through estate managers and agents. Times had indeed changed, but Daisy was oblivious to the history of the land on which she walked. She was more interested in the company she was keeping.
They slowly wandered up the gentle slope of the hill, always closing in on the Wood at the top as they walked. Daisy chatted light heartedly, mainly about Daisy and where she came from. Benjamin was a lot quieter than she was, so he just listened and smiled at all the right times. Much to her own surprise, Daisy found herself revealing all sorts of things about herself and her family. Once or twice she was almost embarrassed by her own openness, but for some reason Daisy continued to blather on regardless. If Benjamin thought her foolish, he didn’t show it and he listened to everything with interest and always with a smile on his face.
Before she knew it, the vast expanse of trees and brush that made up Darkly Wood was right in front of them. It was far more imposing up close than Daisy had imagined when she had studied it from her bedroom window. From her house, it looked like a normal Wood. Up close the trees were huge and had a fierce almost threatening quality about them. They were simply enormous.
“My God the trees are huge!” she exclaimed. “What are they?”
“Oak and sycamore mainly, I think,” Benjamin answered unsure himself, “I think there’s a whole mix of different ones as you go through, but that big one there is definitely an oak.”
He was pleased with his own confident-sounding explanation despite the fact he knew absolutely nothing about trees until Daisy asked.
“Isn’t that a Horse Chestnut?” She hesitated and tried not to sound too clever or smug, “I mean, well, those leaves they look like...”