The Girls in the Woods

by Helen Phifer

  ‘It’s a ball, Jake. They’re circular and are known for rolling around.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Not like that.’

  It reached Alice and she chuckled, pushing it back away again. Once more it began to roll towards her.

  ‘Should I be worried? Annie, I thought you said it was okay here now. What’s going on?’

  ‘No, you definitely don’t need to worry – it’s only Sophie. She’s come to play with Alice. Hello, Sophie, where have you been? It’s been ever so quiet without you.’

  Jake’s tanned face turned white, but there was no reply. The room was chillier than before but it didn’t feel menacing. A voice whispered into Annie’s ear.

  ‘Hello, Annie, I just brought our Alice to meet Jake’s Alice. She’s in love with her. You can tell him that his little Alice now has her very own guardian angel because she’s besotted.’

  ‘That’s lovely. I can’t see either of you but I miss you both.’

  Jake stared at her. He couldn’t hear anyone but Annie. ‘Who are you talking to?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Annie, we’re still around but you haven’t needed us as much so we’ve been keeping an eye on you from afar.’

  Annie felt an ice-cold squeeze as Sophie wrapped her arms around her and hugged her. Annie tried her best to hug her back but it was hard to hug someone that you couldn’t always see. The baby began to cry and Annie realised that her ghostly friends had left – it made her wonder if little Alice already had a sixth sense because there was no reason for her to be crying. Jake was staring at Annie, who had scooped Alice into her arms. ‘Did you like playing with Sophie and Alice. They liked playing with you.’

  ‘What just happened? Was it Sophie? Because I can cope if it’s a ghost I know but I don’t want any old ghost playing with my daughter. I’m still not one hundred per cent sure about all this weird stuff, you know.’

  Annie began to laugh. Alice Heaton had died a very long time ago; she had helped Annie to overcome Henry Smith the first time he’d tried to kill her in the derelict mansion in Abbeywood that her brother Ben had been the caretaker of. If it hadn’t been for Alice she didn’t know if she would still be here to tell the tale of what happened at the ghost house, as Will had nicknamed it. It was so sweet how Alice and Sophie had both become such good friends and her very own guardian angels.

  ‘Yes, it’s all fine. Sophie and Alice wanted to come and see your Alice. They are the kindest, most beautiful souls I’ve ever met and if little Alice has them watching out for her she will be just fine. They make a pretty good team and they’ve helped me out more than enough times when I really needed them.’

  ‘Dear God, our lives are never just normal, are they?’

  He wasn’t expecting an answer to that question, because he knew the answer. Normal had left his life when Annie became psychic after the terrible head injury that Mike, her now-dead husband, had inflicted upon her a couple of years ago. She changed the subject. The baby was playing with the gold cross that she always wore around her neck. It had been a present from her friend Father John – who had blessed it after their encounter with that awful woman he’d helped them to bury in the churchyard – and it meant the world to her.

  ‘So what’s going on in the busy world of Bowness? I bet you’re bored without me. Not to mention skint. Do you have to pay for your coffee now I’m not with you to go inside and get it?’

  ‘Yes and no. It’s still free when Gustav is in but he’s not been well the last couple of weeks so I had to pay, three times.’

  Annie snorted.

  ‘Just imagine how much it would have cost you if you hadn’t got all those freebies. Poor Gustav. Do you know what’s up with him? I like him. I know he’s a big flirt but he’s good hearted and sweet. I’m surprised he isn’t married, he’s so good looking.’

  ‘I can tell you why he isn’t married. Isn’t it obvious?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He isn’t married because he sleeps with anything that walks on two legs.’

  ‘I still think he’s a sweetie. We all have our faults.’

  ‘Talking about faults, where is your lord and master today. I thought he was off work?

  ‘To be honest, I’m not sure. He went back to work yesterday and got called into work earlier so I don’t know when I’ll see him again. You know what it’s like. Some job comes in and there’s never anyone on to cover. It’s getting worse. He promised me he wasn’t going to work late today and that he was easing himself back into it, but I should have known better. I wanted him to finish painting the nursery and build the cot.’

  Jake began laughing.

  ‘You won’t see him again; he probably texted Stu and told him to make a job up, if all you wanted him to do was paint and put together a ten-thousand-part cot. Well, if it was me you wouldn’t see me for the rest of the day. There’s nothing more depressing than trying to build flat-pack furniture.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that – he likes doing stuff around the house. Doesn’t he?’

  ‘Not for me to say, princess, but there are some things a man doesn’t like doing no matter how much he loves you. Right, we need to get going. I have loads to do and can’t waste all day sitting here with you.’

  ‘Thanks, Jake. I’d hate you to waste your time on me.’

  He leant over – wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her forehead.

  ‘I don’t mean it like that. I just have so much to do. Two days off aren’t enough, especially not with Alice. I just want to make them count. I had no idea being a parent was so time-consuming, but wonderful. Not long now before you and the man discover this as well – make the most of your freedom because things will change drastically once baby Ashworth arrives. There won’t be any of this flying off to exotic locations for long, lazy holidays.’

  He stood up. Tucking the baby under one arm, he held out his other hand for Annie to pull her up. She grabbed it and before she could sit forward he’d yanked her to her feet.

  ‘Wow, I’d forgotten just how big and strong you are.’

  ‘See, told you I wasn’t losing my touch.’

  He winked at her and she smiled, wishing he could stay longer. Being pregnant was the most amazing thing that had happened to her, but it was driving her mad being at home all day. She had never been so fed up. Kissing Alice and tickling her she then stood on her tiptoes and kissed Jake’s cheek. They walked to the front door and she led them outside, watching Jake buckle his bundle of love into her car seat, then walk around and get into the driver’s seat.

  ‘See you soon, my friend.’

  ‘I hope so Jake, because I miss you.’

  He blew her a kiss then began reversing out of the drive. Annie watched him until the tail lights on his car disappeared from sight, then she turned to go back inside. She would finish the painting and build the cot herself if Will wasn’t man enough to say he didn’t want to. At least that would pass the time until he was back with her.

  Doctor Paul Miller sighed as his last patient for the day left his office; he had the rest of the day to himself which was a nice change. He had been planning on going fell walking but all he could think about was Jo Tyson. He’d never liked Heath since the day they’d fallen out over Jo – she never knew about the big argument they’d had, which had turned into a fight. One which Paul had won in the physical sense because he’d hit Heath so hard he’d fallen back, hitting his head against the slate wall in the darkened car park of the Queen’s pub, which knocked him out. It had been the one and only time Paul had ever fought over a girl in his life.

  He might have won that fight but he lost the prize. Panicking, he’d sat with Heath until he’d regained consciousness and apologised profusely – he’d told Heath that he’d won. He could keep the girl. Paul wouldn’t bother either of them again as long as Heath didn’t report him to the police. Heath had agreed, although Paul had a feeling that he wasn’t the sort of man who would go running to the police anyway, but he had too mu
ch to lose. He couldn’t afford to be arrested for grievous bodily harm; it would have ended his career if he had. So Jo had gone off into the sunset with Heath – he’d told Jo the next time he saw her that he couldn’t really get involved with her; he had to think of his career. She’d always been gullible and she’d cried a few tears but then had gone running straight into Heath’s arms and, oh, how that had hurt. Watching them at the pub hurt so much that he’d stopped going down there for the quiz. In fact, he’d pretty much stopped going anywhere apart from fell walking. He liked that – being on his own, out in the open with just his thoughts. He wondered how Jo felt now. He wondered how long it had been before she’d realised what a huge mistake she’d made leaving him for Heath. He didn’t like the fact that he knew Heath hit her on a regular basis. But there was nothing he could do about it – because Heath knew Paul wouldn’t report him, as much as he wanted to. In fact, what he wanted to do was to make Jo see sense and leave Heath for good and come back to him, because he was so goddamn lonely. He was good looking and could have any woman he wanted if he tried but most of the women in the village and surrounding areas were his patients. This bloody code of ethics was a complete pain. If Jo did come back to him he would make her sign up to the doctor’s in Bowness and no longer be her GP. It was his turn to live happily ever after… well, it would be once they figured out how to get Heath out of the equation.

  Chapter 9

  He had been very quiet since the police arrived and it made her wonder what he was trying to hide, because something was wrong. She knew he had nothing to do with the body outside – that was ridiculous. Yes, he was violent and a bully, but he’d never brought women home or done anything that had aroused her suspicion. He spent all his time cooped up in his studio or workshop, then seemed to do nothing but complain about the women he photographed, saying they all expected him to be a miracle worker. They didn’t just want a portrait – they wanted to look thinner, younger, prettier, sexier. Jo had sniggered the first time he’d started to really rant about his clients. She had never sniggered again after the beating she got for it. He was a good photographer, though, and she couldn’t take that away from him. She supposed it was his calling; where some people wrote books, danced or played the drums, he was very good at taking photographs. She wondered what she was good at and realised that at the moment her best virtue was making cups of tea and having great stamina for taking a beating. She giggled. Maybe she should join the secret service and go undercover somewhere exotic; anything would be better than this non-existent life. The door banged as he came in, looking as if he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar.

  ‘Would you like anything to eat or drink?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘No, I think I’m going to lie down. I don’t feel well.’

  ‘Okay, I hope you feel better soon. I’ll make sure I don’t make any noise and disturb you.’

  He looked at her but didn’t really look at her. Something was bothering him and she did her best to look concerned, but inside she was gloating. It made a change for him to be ill; normally it was her having to go to bed because the punch he’d thrown at her had given her a migraine. He turned to go upstairs and she turned on the kettle – if he wasn’t going to talk to her she might as well take some drinks outside to those poor police support officers who had been standing there for hours. At least she could strike up a conversation with one of them for a little while and they might be able to tell her a little more about what was happening.

  ***

  Will had spent all afternoon on the phone, trying to push what had happened earlier at the Tysons’ house to the back of his mind, but he was still annoyed with what Stu had said. As if he’d been coming on to that woman in the cottage. Why would he, when he had everything he ever wanted waiting for him back at his own house? It was careless remarks like that which started gossip, and the station was rife with rumours about affairs. Hell, he’d been the source of most of them for a few years, but not any more. He’d changed, and Stu should have realised that before he opened his mouth. He’d spoken to Matt, his friend who also happened to be the pathologist for the South Lakes, and requested his assistance. Then he’d spoken to the Detective Chief Inspector, who just happened to be at headquarters in a meeting – he’d told Will to do his thing until he could get there. Will had told him no problem, relieved because his boss was a pain in the backside anyway. He would flounce in and take control, giving out orders that had already been actioned, only to leave once the weather turned chilly or dark, whichever came first. He dialled another number and held the phone to his ear.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous. I’m just ringing to say I’m going to be late home.’

  ‘Oh, is everything okay?’

  ‘Not for whoever’s skeleton some kids stumbled across this afternoon it’s not.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s terrible. Really? Where at?’

  ‘Not far from our house, actually – a mile and a half in the other direction. It’s out the back of a cottage on the outskirts of the village. In a secluded wood, which is why it’s stayed so well hidden for such a long time.’

  ‘Aw, that’s so sad.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I want this doing right. We need to find out who it is and, more importantly, who buried them there.’

  ‘Well, you’re the right man for the job. If anyone can send them home, you can. I love you, Will.’

  ‘I love you more, Annie. I’ll probably be late so don’t wait up if you’re tired. I’ve got a key and don’t worry about food. I’ll grab something when I get home.’

  He waited for Annie to end the call. It was tradition that she ended it first and she knew how much he hated cutting her off. It had turned out he was a lot soppier than she’d ever given him credit for.

  She wandered into the kitchen and smiled at her pale pink Aga; it had the same effect on her each time she walked in and saw it sitting there. Jake had come through with his part of the bargain – when she’d confessed to him how much she wanted one, he’d told her Will would buy it for her and he’d been right. It was the only concession to pink in the house, which was mainly white, pale green and grey. Unless of course they had a baby girl, and then pink would be everywhere. She rubbed her hand across her swollen belly. Then she thought about the skeleton that had been found in the woods – for a small village, there sure were a lot of dead people hidden around it in gardens and woods. She shivered so violently her teeth clashed together. Something wasn’t right. She felt as if she was being watched and knew that someone was standing behind. Her heart began to race as thoughts of Betsy Baker, the woman whose name she would not speak out loud in her house, filled her mind. Please God don’t let her have come back for round two. I’m not up to it and I don’t want to be scared out of the house I love.

  Annie turned but there was no one behind her and she breathed out a sigh of relief – it wasn’t her because if it had been she would have let her presence be known. The woman had been hanged as a witch, but Annie knew she had been a cold, callous, calculating killer and nothing more. But something was wrong – there was a spirit around; she could tell by the sudden change in the atmosphere and the fact that her built-in psychic sensors had kick-started themselves. It was then that she saw the face of a young woman staring at her through the kitchen window. Annie squealed, jumping back, but the face didn’t move or smile. She was painfully white, with black smudges for eyes, straggly long blonde hair hung down in rat’s tails on her shoulders, and on the left-hand side of the girl’s face was a horrific head wound that looked as if it was alive with maggots and worms moving around inside of it. Annie scolded herself. No matter how many times she saw a ghost, for want of a better word, it nearly always had the same effect on her. Sophie and Alice were the exceptions, but even they could sometimes startle her. She forced herself to walk towards the window.

  ‘What do you want? Can I help you?’

  Her voice wavered and the words felt heavy, as if they were floating in
the air. It was so quiet the huge American-style fridge, which Will had insisted they had to have, had stopped its humming. There wasn’t a sound in the house except for her breathing, which seemed to be far too loud in her ears, and the pounding of her heart. The face never moved or changed its expression – it just stared at her. Annie walked up to the glass window and could feel the drop in temperature. The kitchen now felt like the inside of a fridge. The girl had something clasped in her hand and Annie recognised the curled-up white edges of an old Polaroid instant camera photograph. She lifted her hand, pressing the picture against the glass, but it was so old and faded all Annie could see was yellow and grey shapes where the images had once been. She shook her head at her.

  ‘I can’t see anything. What is it?’

  But the girl’s image began to quiver – as if she couldn’t make herself stay visible any longer – and then she was gone, taking her picture with her. Leaving Annie wondering what she had been trying to tell her.

  When she tried to tell Will about it when he got home, hours later, she found that the only way to describe the woman was that she looked haunted. She knew how corny it sounded because she was dead, and wouldn’t we all look haunted if we were dead and still wandering around, but the woman looked distressed, which had then made her feel upset for her. She’d spent the rest of the night upstairs in bed reading on her Kindle with the television on in the background so the house didn’t feel so big and empty, hoping that Will would be home soon to tell her she was being ridiculous and there were no dead women staring in through the kitchen windows, and that it was just her overactive imagination.

  1995

  Heath went out for a walk in the woods to check if the grave he had dug lay undisturbed. He had taken some of the soil in a wheelbarrow in the middle of the night and put it into his recently built rockery outside his back door, then covered the grave with stones, moss and branches from nearby so it didn’t look fresh. It was just as he’d left it. Then he made his way to the village hall, where he offered to take some of the flyers that had been printed up and post them through letterboxes. The woman who was in charge was brusque with him, in fact she was downright rude, and he had wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. But he hadn’t because she was the doctor’s receptionist and he never knew when he might need an appointment – not to mention the fact that she was a gossip. He’d smiled, nodded and taken his flyers like a good boy. There were a few mothers, friends of the family and teenagers there, everyone feeling hopeless – all wanting to help find Sharon Sale. Most of them knew that by now things weren’t looking good and the chances of her turning up alive were slim. In fact they were zero to none, but he couldn’t tell them that. He just had to carry on like a concerned villager and hope they all lost interest soon. He hadn’t taken any of this into consideration before it had been too late and she was lying on the couch in his studio, very much dead. Already the police presence had been scaled down from what it had been the first five days. Now there were just a couple of officers sitting at a table at the far end of the village hall with a clipboard each and huge, steaming mugs of tea.