The Woman in the Woods

by Lisa Hall

  ‘There used to be,’ she says, her blue-streaked hair shining under the glare of the lights. ‘Maybe you could ask her, across the road.’ She nods in the direction of the automatic doors and I follow her gaze out across the street to the darkened windows of The Daisy Chain. ‘She could probably get you some.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Frowning I lay the basket on the self-scan machine and start swiping. ‘Speaking of the cottage, I was sort of hoping I might run into you this week. I wanted to talk to you about Elsie.’

  ‘Oh?’ A wary look flits across her features but she steps closer.

  ‘Did you speak to her yet?’

  ‘Yes, I saw her this morning, actually. We talked about her childhood, growing up in the cottage.’ Miranda looks away, shifting from one foot to the other.

  ‘I know what happened,’ I say bluntly. ‘I know her baby brother died, and her mother was put away.’ Miranda opens her mouth to speak, but I carry on. ‘I know Elsie thinks Agnes was responsible.’

  ‘They said her mother was depressed, that she couldn’t cope with the baby,’ Miranda says reluctantly. ‘I don’t know how true that is.’

  ‘Elsie didn’t believe that,’ I say. ‘Here, I wanted to show you something.’ I shove my purchases into a carrier bag and pull out my phone. ‘Look at this.’ I open up the image of the bones that I snapped with my phone and hand it to her. ‘I found this.’

  ‘In the house?’ Miranda looks for a long moment at the image, before raising her eyes to mine. Her face is pale and there is something in her tone that stops my hand in mid-air as it reaches for the phone.

  ‘Yes, in the house. At first, I thought maybe it was another charm, like the one Elsie Sparks hid in the floorboards, but there was something about it …’

  ‘It’s not a charm,’ Miranda says bluntly, pushing the phone back into my hands. ‘It’s a witch’s ladder.’

  ‘I know. I bought a book on witchcraft.’

  ‘Get rid of it, Allie. You have to get it out of your house.’

  ‘Get rid of it?’ I knew there was something off about it, the way it felt dark and sinister, even before I read about it, and Miranda’s reaction has confirmed that what I read is true. There is something bad attached to that coil of hair and feathers. ‘I found bones too, in the trees, tied together. What is it, Miranda?’

  She leans in close. ‘It’s a curse,’ she hisses. ‘A witch’s ladder is a curse. The knots have to be untied and a new spell spoken over it to break it, or you must destroy it. Allie, this witch’s ladder, it doesn’t have to be a curse on you.’

  ‘Miranda, I don’t—’

  ‘It could be a curse on your house.’

  My hands shake as I slide back behind the wheel of the car, tucking my groceries into the passenger footwell. A curse. On me, or on our house, possibly. Part of me can’t believe what Miranda says – the rational part of me that knows it is all superstitious nonsense. Then there is the other part of me, who sees movement in the mirror, figures on the stairs, hears the cries of a child coming from the trees. A child who disappeared four hundred years ago. Idiot, I try to laugh, the sound raw and catching in my throat. Superstitious nonsense. There’s no such thing as ghosts.

  My laughter dies as I pull up outside the house. I have to face Rav now and explain to him properly why I was so late to pick up Mina. He’s going to be cross, I think, when he finds out I took the witch’s ladder out of the dustbin. He’s going to ask me why, and I can’t explain it. All I can say is that I feel drawn to it, as if the black, twisting fingers of whatever spell has been tied to it are drawing me in. I sit in silence, watching the house, sifting over in my mind a way of explaining things to him that don’t make me sound as if I am going mad. I’ll have to tell him about what happened before. About Lillian Sparks and her dead baby. As I sit, I see the Turkish lamp go on in the sitting room at the front of the house, Rav appearing in the window with a glass of wine in one hand, about to draw the curtains. As he pulls the second curtain across, I see the silhouette of someone else in the house, standing in the doorway of the sitting room. Rav pauses for a moment, his face solemn, before pulling the curtains all the way shut, blocking my view.

  Someone is there, in the house with Rav and the children. My skin prickles and I automatically look up at the windows on the top floor. There is a soft light glowing in the hallway, as if one of the bedroom lights has been left on and a shadow moves across it, gliding quickly. I slide out of the car, closing the door as quietly as I can. Walking up to the front door, I change my mind and swerve off to the left, taking the path that leads along the side of the house. I unlatch the gate, wincing as it creaks and step into the shadows, my eyes on the kitchen window. The lights are on and Rav now stands at the old-fashioned Aga-style range, stirring something in a copper saucepan. He says something, his lips moving but the sound muted through the glass of the windowpane, his brow furrowing. He stops stirring, turning his back to me as he faces whoever he is speaking to. I inch along the side of the house to get a better view, stumbling over the beginning of the border at the edge of the house. Scents of jasmine and chamomile rise on the mild night air, and raising my hand to cover my mouth I think I can smell the fresh, apricot scent of the oleander bush. For a moment I don’t know if it’s on my skin or in the air. I move to the back door, peering in through the window to see who is making Rav frown like that. She sits at the kitchen table, my baby on her lap. He lies in the crook of one arm, her other hand cupping his tiny head. His mouth opens in a muted wail, and her hand reaches for the bottle of milk on the table, silencing him as she gently places the teat in his mouth. Naomi, sitting at my table, talking to Rav, feeding my baby. Tears prick my eyes. They look like a family. A real family, with a mum who is happy and well rested, not fretting about people watching the house and witch’s curses. This is what she wants, I think, the thought suddenly clear in my mind, only I’m not sure if I’m talking about Naomi, myself or Agnes. I can hear their voices now I am close enough and I catch the end of what Rav is saying, his face still carrying that shadow of anger.

  ‘… more than just “not quite right”! I’ve been reading up on it.’

  ‘The article I sent you?’ Naomi’s voice, quieter as she sits further from the door.

  ‘Yes, the article. Postpartum psychosis. I feel like … like this is what it could lead to, you know that?’

  ‘I know that …’ Her voice fades and I have to strain to hear her. ‘… Keep the children safe.’

  I reel back into the shadows, my legs suddenly feeling numb. They think I’m mad. Naomi thinks I’m mad. Rav thinks I’m mad. I press my hand to my mouth, biting down on the skin to stop the sting of tears behind my eyes. I’m not mad. On leaden feet I move back towards the door, the handle moving more easily than I thought. I tumble into the domestic scene playing out in front of me, Rav’s mouth opening in surprise.

  ‘Allie, you’re back. What are you doing coming in the back way? Did you forget your keys?’ He moves past me and pushes the door closed. I stand for a moment, just watching as Naomi carries on feeding the baby. A blush rises from the collar of her T-shirt, flushing her neck and cheeks a rosy pink.

  ‘Allie, do you want to take him?’ She nods down at the still feeding baby, her eyes flicking away from mine. ‘He was crying his eyes out and I … We didn’t know how long you would be.’

  ‘I only went to get nappies,’ I say, taking the baby from her. He grizzles as the teat is wrenched from his mouth, and when I pull my shirt up and place him at my breast he wails angrily and twists his head away from me.

  ‘Come on, baby,’ I mutter, trying again, but he only cries louder, the shrill sound scraping across the surface of my skin, down to my bones.

  ‘Maybe let him finish the bottle?’ Rav says tentatively, and I snatch it up, blinking away tears when the baby starts to gulp greedily. ‘That’s better.’ He leans over and kisses the baby’s head, seemingly oblivious to the rage I am sure is emanating from my every pore.

  ‘Rav
was trying to cook and Leo just wouldn’t stop crying,’ Naomi explains, taking a sip of her wine. The air is thick with tension, the echo of their words reverberates around the small kitchen and I imagine them bouncing off the roughly plastered walls, the edge of the butler sink, settling on the table in front of us.

  Instead, all I say is, ‘I fed him before I put him down. Before I went to the shop.’

  ‘That was nearly an hour ago,’ Rav says. ‘I thought you’d run off and left us.’ He tries a laugh, but it comes out flat and heavy.

  ‘I bumped into Miranda,’ I say as an explanation. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ I raise my eyes to Naomi’s, but she is looking at the baby, watching him feed.

  ‘I wanted to see how you were,’ she says, finally tearing her eyes away, ‘after this morning, you know.’ She flicks a quick glance towards Rav, but he has his back to us, stirring what smells like a risotto. ‘I wanted to make sure you were OK,’ she whispers.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say at normal volume. ‘I told you earlier I just lost track of time. I didn’t realize how late it was, and my phone was on silent. That’s why I missed Rav’s call.’

  ‘Are we … OK, though?’

  ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t we be?’ Aside from the fact that you think I’m going bonkers, and although I can’t prove it yet, I think there is something going on between you and my husband. I meet her gaze head on, rearranging my face to clear any animosity from it. It’s unsettled me, seeing her sitting at my spot at the kitchen table, my baby in her arms, discussing with my husband how I could be crazy.

  ‘No reason.’ Naomi shakes her head slightly and I watch as she glances at Rav, who gives me a small smile. There’s something wary on his face mixed with something that could almost be guilt.

  ‘Mummy!’ A shout comes from upstairs, a piercing cry from Mina’s bedroom. The baby isn’t finished with his bottle, and I dither for a moment, trying to weigh up which child needs me most. Before I can decide, Rav speaks.

  ‘Naomi, would you just check on her? Allie’s still feeding and I have to keep stirring this.’

  ‘Of course, no problem.’ Naomi jumps to her feet. ‘… Unless you want to go, Al? I can give him the rest, there’s only a tiny bit.’

  I shake my head, watching as she bounds up the stairs, hearing her voice murmur to Mina and then the sound of footsteps overhead as Naomi leads Mina back to bed. I turn my attention to Rav.

  ‘You could have texted me, told me Naomi was here. I would have hurried back.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal, is it?’ Rav keeps stirring the saucepan. ‘She only got here about twenty minutes before you came home; she wanted to check on you. As soon as she leaves, you and I can sit down together and talk.’

  ‘OK.’ The baby finishes the bottle and I stand, laying him over my shoulder and patting his back to bring up any wind. ‘I wasn’t expecting Naomi to be here, that’s all. She was at the preschool this morning, when I was … when I was late.’ The baby burps contentedly and I lay him gently in the Moses basket.

  ‘Yeah, I asked her to go, because you weren’t answering your phone.’ Flicking a tea towel over his shoulder Rav turns to me, before his gaze moves past me and I realize Naomi must have returned.

  I turn and say, ‘Naomi, you’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rav gives me a hard look as he passes Naomi three sets of cutlery, and I use Mina as an excuse to get some space. As my feet reach the bottom step, I hear the murmur of their voices coming from the kitchen and the rattle of plates being removed from the cupboard. I pause for a moment, that same unsettling feeling washing over me, before I climb the stairs, taking them carefully as a sharp pain bolts through my ankle on every step.

  Mina is asleep again, one arm flung over her head. I tiptoe into the room, dodging the plastic bricks that have tumbled to the floor and a naked baby doll, its eyes wide and unblinking. Her breath whistles slightly as she breathes in and out, still stuffy from crying and I lean over and press a tiny kiss against her forehead. Naomi got her to sleep much more quickly than I would have been able to, and a splinter of resentment pricks its way under my skin. Satisfied that she is settled, I creep back out, pausing on the landing to look out of the window. It’s getting late, the sky a dark purple as the last vestiges of sunlight have disappeared over the horizon. The moon is making her way up the clear, velvety sky, tiny pin pricks of stars beginning to show. As soon as the sun disappears, I can’t walk past this window without looking out into the woods as if there is some magnetic pull, my nerve endings on red alert. The trees are silent now, the air still, and I let out a breath I don’t realize I have been holding. The woods are dark and it is as though I am watching a frozen tableau, the scene in front of me paused, until movement catches the corner of my eye. The fox, his bushy tail up, runs from the shadows alongside the oleander tree, something small and furry dangling from his mouth. I let out an involuntary gasp, and he pauses as if he has heard me, dropping whatever creature he has caught, his face turning to the window where I stand. His muzzle is ringed a rusty red, the maroon of slowly drying blood, and I press my hand to my throat, aware that in the dusky light I shouldn’t be able to see him as clearly as I do. A cry comes from the woods, a sharp, piercing shriek. The cry of a terrified child. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly, counting to ten to compose myself before opening my eyes. A face is reflected back at me in the black canvas of the glass, and I stifle a shriek. It’s not my face. It’s hers, I think. Agnes. Her skin is alabaster white, her long hair hanging over her forehead in thick, pale hanks, her mouth downturned. Her eyes are black holes in her face, and I grit my teeth together hard to hold in the scream that burns at the base of my throat, stepping back, away from her furious glare.

  ‘Allie?’ Rav’s voice makes me jump and I turn to where he stands at the top of the stairs, watching me. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Shit, Rav. You scared me.’ My eyes go back to the glass, but she is gone and my own face stares back at me, pale and wide-eyed.

  ‘You OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  I ignore Rav’s choice of words. ‘Just checking on Mina.’

  ‘We’ve been waiting for you. Dinner’s getting cold.’

  ‘I’m coming now. Sorry.’ I could have sworn I was only watching the fox for a few minutes before Agnes’s face appeared in front of me. I turn back to the window, but the fox is gone, taking his quarry with him.

  Naomi is already sitting at the table when I get back downstairs, a plate of risotto in front of her. She has also topped up Rav’s wine glass and her own while mine stands empty. ‘I didn’t know if …’ She waves her hand towards my glass.

  ‘Just water for me,’ I say. ‘I’ll need to feed the baby later. I don’t want him to have another bottle.’ I didn’t want him to have one in the first place.

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Naomi picks up her fork and begins to eat. ‘How are you feeling now, Allie? Is that ankle OK?’

  ‘Fine.’ I push the food around my plate, not hungry. ‘I was just late this morning, that’s all. I don’t know why either of you have made such a big deal out of it.’ They exchange a glance and irritation begins to make way for real anger. ‘I was up late. Rav, you know I was tired, you’re the one who left me sleeping. Mina was fine.’

  ‘Yes, I know she was,’ Rav says quietly. ‘We’re … I’m just a little concerned that things are getting a bit much for you, that’s all. It’s tough with a newborn baby and a toddler. And you’re not … I mean, you just don’t seem yourself at the moment.’

  ‘I only want to help you, Al,’ Naomi butts in. ‘I’m your friend, you should feel able to rely on me.’

  I say nothing for a moment, weighing up how to respond. In the end I say, ‘I know. Thank you, but I don’t need any help. I just overslept today. You know I haven’t been sleeping enough’ – I nod towards Rav – ‘and it all caught up with me. I’m fine now, really.’ I return to pushing my food around, forcing in smal
l bites as Rav looks at his own plate, his eyes coming to rest on me at intervals as I turn the conversation to more mundane topics. When Naomi gets up to use the bathroom, Rav gives up any pretence of eating and lays a hand on my arm.

  ‘Did you have to invite her to stay for dinner?’ His tone is sharp, and I raise an eyebrow.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Don’t think you can wriggle out of talking about this, Al. We need to talk about things, about how you’ve been.’

  ‘I’ve been fine,’ I snap. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something, to tell him I overheard them both, but I don’t think it will do me any favours. He’ll deny it, try to tell me that I misheard or imagined it. Try to make me feel like I am mad. ‘I was late, it’s not a big deal.’

  ‘It is a big deal,’ Rav says. ‘You left Mina. And it’s not just that you were late, it’s all this stuff with the house. The bones. Doing all that last night with the chimney. Hounding the old lady who used to live here – you’re becoming obsessed.’

  I open my mouth to argue but Rav cuts me off. ‘I know I should have told you about the history of the house, but I didn’t want to upset you and clearly I made the right choice – ever since you found out about this bloody Pluckley Witch story you’ve been … not yourself.’

  ‘Rav, I know I saw something out in the woods, whether you like it or not.’ I hiss back at him, aware of Naomi above us. ‘You can hardly blame me for wanting to find out what happened if I’m going to bring up our family here.’ I watch as Rav almost flinches at those words, confirming to me that I did hear correctly. He is concerned that the children aren’t safe with me.

  ‘That’s my point! You were so focused on the house you forgot about Mina. Allie, listen, it’s not that—’

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Naomi has appeared in the doorway, her perfectly groomed eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

  ‘I was just moaning about Avó,’ I say quickly, not meeting Rav’s eye. ‘I was just complaining about her bringing over potatoes so I could make Rav dosa.’