Jasmine followed Sam to the main path although she kept looking back as if she was still unsure, but the further they went, the more sure-footed she became.
Sam took out his phone and noticed another text message from Anna that he duly ignored. He checked the time and said, ‘It’s half past five. Maybe your mum or dad will be home by now. Do you know your home number?’
‘Mum doesn’t get back until six and we never know when Dad will come home. He’s got a new job and he’s working really hard,’ she said proudly.
‘I’m glad,’ replied Sam.
‘It’s hard to find work these days,’ she said knowledgeably. ‘It’s not the best job in the world, but Dad says it’s a miracle he found anything at all.’
‘It just goes to show that you shouldn’t give up hope,’ Sam said. It felt like another white lie.
There was something in Mr McIntyre’s tone that sounded so very sad, and as Jasmine glanced up at him she was consumed with guilt. Had he realized she had been taking another wish? Did he think it was wrong? Jasmine had thought long and hard about making another one. It was greedy, she knew that. The tree didn’t give out wishes to anyone; it hadn’t granted Keira’s wish and none of the other kids in her class had said anything either. It had picked her above everyone else and now she was back asking for more.
But she needed the Wishing Tree’s help and she hoped she had left a long enough time for it to have built up its amazing powers again. It had found a job for her dad and that had made everyone happy, and not just normal happy but really happy. Her dad wanted them to do family stuff together, things he’d always been too busy to do before, or that they couldn’t afford. She had heard her mum and dad talking – and by talking, she meant the kind of conversations that you never quite knew whether they would turn nasty or not. Thankfully, they hadn’t, but Jasmine could tell her parents were still worried about money and the future. She was frightened that their happiness and the peace that came with it wouldn’t last. She was scared that her dad would start feeling bad again and it always started with the kind of sad look that Mr McIntyre had on his face now.
‘Have you ever asked the tree for a wish?’ she asked.
A smile softened the creases on Mr McIntyre’s forehead, but the lines were there to stay. ‘I’m a lost cause,’ he said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means there’s nothing within the tree’s powers that it could grant me,’ he said simply as he quickened his pace.
‘You should try,’ Jasmine said. She was a little breathless as she tried to keep up. ‘You might be surprised.’
They had turned a corner and the playground came into view. It wasn’t as busy as it had been when Jasmine had skipped past earlier, but there were a handful of children and their parents around, some of whom she recognized but no one who might be looking for her or wondering why she was being escorted out of the park by the park ranger.
‘I can find my own way home from here,’ she said, hoping that Mr McIntyre was wrong and that no one had missed her yet. Keira would cover for her if she had to. She had done it before and she knew Jasmine would do the same for her.
‘I’d rather stay with you until I know you’re safe.’
Jasmine had no time to argue because the park ranger was striding onwards and Jasmine’s little legs couldn’t keep up. ‘If you’re so mad keen to look after me then slow down,’ she told him, making a grab for his hand.
Mr McIntyre didn’t so much slow down as stumble to a stop the moment she touched him. They were near the rose gardens, on the path that led to the Four Seasons Gate and home. Jasmine’s grip on his hand was strong but his was limp and lifeless by comparison.
‘Uh oh, I think that’s Natalie coming towards us,’ Jasmine said, tugging at Sam’s hand to get him moving again.
It wasn’t so much that he was being pulled forward along the path as Sam was being pulled back in time. He wanted to tear his hand away but he couldn’t bring himself to break the connections his mind was making. He closed his eyes briefly and, in the darkness, he sensed the vast open spaces of Edinburgh’s Inverleith Park rather than Calderstones. If he had the courage to give his memories free rein, he could believe he was back there, but the pain was too much to bear and his mind and body recoiled. Snapping his eyes wide open again, he found the world as he had left it and the little girl holding his hand was unaware of the desolation that Sam saw everywhere.
When Jasmine released her grip, she abandoned Sam somewhere between Liverpool and the one place he had never wanted to return to.
Natalie looked equally unhappy and suspicious of the stranger who had been holding her charge’s hand. ‘Where have you been, Jasmine? You’re not allowed to go wandering off on your own, especially here. You know the rules. I’ve been back and forth to the playground twice and was just about to phone your mum.’
‘Sorry,’ Jasmine said.
‘I was telling her the same thing,’ Sam offered.
Natalie looked at Sam and at first didn’t appear comforted by the sight of his uniform, but then she relaxed. ‘We met at the school, didn’t we?’
‘He’s the park ranger,’ Jasmine said.
‘I am,’ said Sam, ‘and Jasmine, I don’t expect to see you back here unless someone’s with you.’ He gave the little girl his sternest look then nodded at Natalie. ‘But if she does go missing again, come straight to the Coach House and we’ll send out a search party. Again.’
There were promises and thank yous before Jasmine was hauled back home. Sam refused to watch her go and kept his head low as he set off in the opposite direction and, for the second time that day, deviated from the path home and found himself standing in front of the railings that guarded the Wishing Tree – most of the time.
Looking around to make sure there was no one close by, Sam cleared his throat. ‘If I was to ask for a wish, it would be for people to leave me the hell alone,’ he said with a mixture of anger and frustration. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to head for the Highlands and find some godforsaken mountain to take refuge. I’d feel the cold but little else.’
The boughs of the tree swayed in a breeze that was as warm and gentle as the breath of a newborn snuggling into his neck. ‘What am I doing here?’ he gasped. ‘Why did I think I could get close to people and not feel the pain?’
Sam clenched his hands into fists but he couldn’t force away the sensation of a child’s hand in his. He squeezed his eyes shut and could do nothing to stop his mind resurrecting the past this time. In a juddering heartbeat he was back in Inverleith Park. His hand slackened and a space formed between his palm and curled fingers, which was quickly filled by a memory that was more precious than life itself. Thinking about holding her hand made his pulse race and it throbbed at his temples as he held his breath. If he exhaled, he knew his imaginary world would disappear into the ether and that was exactly what it did, collapsing almost as quickly as he did.
He took hold of the railings to keep himself from dropping to the floor. ‘Leave me alone,’ he begged, speaking quietly while the scream he was holding back tore at his throat.
Ignoring his plea, his memories continued to crowd around him and he opened his eyes to stare at the tree where a more recent image came to mind, that of a little girl sitting beneath its boughs, a little girl who had hopes and dreams that might come true if only someone would notice her. ‘Run away, Sam,’ he told himself. ‘Run as fast as you can.’
Eventually he stood up straight and inhaled deeply until his lungs were ready to burst. The muscles in his legs tensed as he prepared to push off at a sprint but at first he took only a handful of steps away from the tree. He turned quickly and ran at full speed back towards the railings and grabbed hold of the spikes that would give him the leverage he needed to jump over, landing perfectly.
When he approached the tree, he considered placing his palm against the gnarled trunk to feel the strong and steady pulse that had kept the ancient oak alive for a thousand y
ears, but found he couldn’t do it. He was afraid that instead he would feel the kind of pain that was strong enough to fell a mighty oak, the kind of pain he had carried inside him for six years. And so, without touching the tree, he peered into its hollow. There was only one screwed-up ball of paper waiting to be found and it was pink.
To my Wishing Tree
I thought you weren’t strong enough to carry on granting wishes but you ARE strong and good and clever and very very powerful and you granted my wish and my dad got his job and he’s soooo happy. And Mum’s happy too and I want us to be this happy forever so can I ask for something else? Maybe you could find a way for us to go on holiday. Am I being a greedy guts?
Oh I am. Sorry, forget I asked!!!
But maybe sometimes making people happy makes you happy too and that takes your mind off your trunk being pulled apart because that must hurt no matter what Mr McIntyre says. Anyway I’ve changed my mind. My wish is that you make yourself better.
Your loving friend
Jasmine xxx
15
Sam’s flat: Wednesday 7 October 2015
Sam stared at his empty glass and took in every detail, from his grimy fingermarks to the droplets of water on the sides of the glass. He was trying not to let his mind fill with images of Jasmine, or to let Harper’s intense stare get to him. He was doing his best not to look guilty, but the more Sam tried to act normally, the more awkward his movements became. Not that it made any difference to the detective who had one theory and he was sticking to it.
‘You met Jasmine quite often in the park, didn’t you?’
‘I work there, remember?’
‘Mrs Harvey says she saw you walking hand in hand with Jasmine,’ Harper said and then seeing the look of confusion on Sam’s face, added, ‘She’s the Petersons’ neighbour.’
‘I was taking Jasmine home after finding her on her own one day, that was all,’ Sam said.
‘You seem to have a habit of tracking Jasmine down, Mr McIntyre.’
‘If you have something to say, then just say it,’ Sam said with a sigh of defeat.
Harper considered the offer and asked, ‘Do you know where we can find her this time?’
‘No, I don’t, but the sooner you finish questioning me, the sooner I can go out looking for her. God knows I’d do a better job than you lot seem to be doing,’ Sam said, letting his frustration get the better of him.
The uniformed policeman appeared back in the apartment a moment later. ‘Forensics have arrived,’ he said.
Harper smiled. ‘Good. Any news on the search warrant?’
‘We’re almost there,’ the officer replied.
‘But I’ve given you permission to search the flat,’ Sam said.
‘This isn’t for your flat, Mr McIntyre,’ Harper replied. ‘We intend to search the whole house and we can’t keep waiting for Mrs Raymond. Do you have a mobile number for her?’
‘Selina doesn’t do modern technology.’
‘And you’re sure you don’t know where she is?’
‘I’ve told you; I haven’t seen her today. She’s probably at one of her friends’.’
‘I hope you’re right, Mr McIntyre. I don’t know what I’d think if two people you knew had gone missing in one day,’ Harper said.
Not rising to the bait, Sam said, ‘I can give you the contact details of a few of her friends if that would help.’
‘Yes, that would be useful. Thank you,’ Harper said. ‘And to speed things along, would you mind if my colleague took a quick look around now while we wait for forensics?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said and tried not to look nervous as the police officer disappeared into his bedroom.
Whether it was all the comings and goings, or simply Sam’s growing agitation, but Jasper sensed something was wrong and poked his head out from the kitchen. He looked warily from Harper to Sam then proceeded to creep slowly into the room with his tail between his legs. Before he could reach Sam, Harper bent down and when he began stroking him, the puppy rolled onto his back. Sam couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed.
‘I’ve been looking after him, but technically he belongs to Selina,’ Sam said to the detective. ‘I presume that was your next question.’
‘Actually, it wasn’t. I was going to ask you what you and Jasmine talked about during your little meetings in the park. Did you promise her anything, Mr McIntyre? Holidays? Puppies?’ Harper said, giving Jasper one last energetic rub before straightening back up.
‘Sir?’ The policeman had reappeared from the bedroom. ‘The bedroom is pretty clear – and by that I mean that the wardrobe’s empty and Mr McIntyre’s bags are packed.’
The smile from earlier, the one that might be a smirk, reappeared on Harper’s face. ‘So, you hand in your resignation and plan to leave home on the same day. Sounds like you were in a rush Mr McIntyre. Had you promised to take Jasmine with you?’
‘No.’
‘But you have taken her on holiday before, haven’t you? You’re a fast worker, I’ll give you that.’
16
Saturday 1 August 2015
Sam kept his eyes focused on the road ahead while Anna sat next to him, chatting away. They were on their way to Pantymwyn to meet up with Selina’s friend, Pat, and Anna was telling him how she had been sketching out a few storylines for the children’s book she was still insisting they write together. She was using her spare time over the school holidays to put it together and was keen to get some input from Sam, but each time she pushed for his opinion, he gave only a brief response, claiming he needed to concentrate on Pat’s directions to the caravan site.
The stories Anna had been making up about the Wishing Tree were never going to grab his attention and Sam’s thoughts turned easily to the girl who believed in it. He knew he should ignore Jasmine’s latest wish and was starting to think Finn had the right idea. The child had to learn one day that wishes didn’t come true; not from throwing coins into a well; pulling on a wishbone; or making a thousand origami cranes – and certainly not from leaving notes in the trunk of a decrepit oak tree.
Sooner or later Jasmine would realize that life wasn’t fair, but the more Sam focused on the cruel and harsh world he had long ago accepted, the more he wanted something better for Jasmine and her family. And how could he be so cruel when an opportunity might just be presenting itself to help the Petersons one more time? It was almost as if it was meant to be.
‘There’s the Crown up ahead,’ Anna said pointing out the small country pub that Pat had mentioned. ‘So we need to take the next right turn.’
They were soon driving along a narrow country road with tall hedgerows on either side. Sam followed the curve of the road until he spotted the next marker, a small red post box. ‘Let’s hope this is it,’ he said as he drove the Land Rover up a steep incline. A couple of twists and turns later and they were there.
‘It is just like a little village, isn’t it?’ Anna said as they drove along a single track road that meandered through a scatterings of caravans, each with its own distinctive character and treasured plot of land.
‘And this one’s definitely a doer-upper,’ Sam said as he pulled up outside the plot number Pat had given him. The caravan itself looked relatively new, as was the wide balcony that ran along its length. But the open piece of land beyond the raised platform looked reminiscent of a building site.
A curtain twitched and Pat’s face appeared at the window. She gave him her broadest smile and then, following Sam’s stricken gaze towards the mess of a garden, shrugged an apology.
‘I never suggested it was going to be easy,’ she said in her defence when she came out to greet them and the introductions had been made.
‘I think you’d better tell me what it is you’re expecting me to do. Apart from performing miracles,’ Sam said.
Pat pulled out a bundle of papers from her apron pocket and laid them across the bistro table at the far end of the balcony, a safe six feet above the chaos of earth and rock
s. ‘Here, take a look at these. I drew them up myself,’ she told Anna, who seemed the more likely of the two to be impressed. ‘They’re not to scale and I’ve had to put labels where it’s not clear.’
Sam’s jaw dropped as he flicked through the pages of spidery scrawl that mapped out Pat’s dreams. In addition to the general landscaping he had been expecting, she wanted to cram in a patio large enough for a barbeque and a picnic table, a generous play area and a garden shed too. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Pat, but if you want all of this doing then it’s going to take a lot more than a few days to get it finished.’
‘I’m not expecting you to do it all on your own, Sam. I’ve told the family that if they want to come here in the future then they’ll have to help with the preparation works. All I really want from you is to give me a plan of action. Tell me what needs ordering and I’ll get it delivered. Tell me what needs clearing and what, if anything, can stay.’ Pat peered over Sam’s shoulder then added, ‘OK, there’s not much to salvage but I’ll leave that to your expertise. And if you think there’s something in my plan that doesn’t work then tell me and we’ll change it.’
Sam turned around to take a good long look at the garden. He was scratching his head, not because he was wondering how to make it all work but because he was trying to find a way out of it. The job was more construction than landscaping, and in all the schemes he had ever taken on, he had been able to contract out that type of work.
‘I’ll make us all a cuppa while you have a think about it,’ Pat said and then added, ‘Would you like a guided tour of the accommodation, Anna?’
Sam could hear the women chatting and giggling while he walked around the patch of earth and rubble in which only Pat could see the potential. The land dipped steeply towards the far end and, to Sam’s horror, extended the garden to twice the size he had originally thought. He consulted Pat’s childlike drawings again which made more sense now that he knew the full extent of the space involved.
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