The Paradise Trees

by Linda Huber

  Margaret pulled her over to the window and they stood watching Jenny and Conker running round the neglected garden.

  ‘He’s been like this since he woke up,’ said Margaret in a low voice. ‘The doctor’s been, he said it might have been another mini-stroke in the night. He’s coming back tomorrow. I don’t know what to do, poor Bob – he can still walk alright but his arm’s stiffer than it was and – it’s as if he doesn’t know me anymore.’

  Alicia looked back at her father, sitting sucking his teeth, blank-faced. A tyrant no longer, in fact he seemed little more than a vegetable now. What a terrible way for anyone to end their life. Even him. The devil’s works again...

  She blew her nose. ‘Margaret, we’ll have to find a place for him somewhere. He can’t stay here like this.’

  Margaret drew herself up. ‘Alicia, he can. It’s only his mind. He’s still quite alright on his feet and it’s so much better for stroke patients to be in their own familiar surroundings. You know that yourself, you’re a nurse for heaven’s sake. I won’t consider him going into a home.’

  She swept out to the kitchen, presumably to make tea, and Alicia stared glumly after her. Championing her baby brother was the habit of a lifetime for Margaret. She had never stopped idolising him, not even when his ‘religion’ had led him to break away from the rest of the family. But what was Margaret expecting now? Did she think Alicia was about to move in for the duration and care for him like a dutiful daughter? Well, she wasn’t. He’d been no kind of father and Alicia was going to get him into a place where he’d be looked after by professionals. It was more than he deserved.

  She flopped down on the sofa and sat staring at her father, whose eyes were fixed on the blank TV screen. They’d been older parents, him and Mum, both nearly forty when she was born. Now he was simply a wretched old man, broken in body and mind yet still managing to make his family unhappy. She almost felt like a teenager again, rebelling against his restrictions, his righteousness, and his... punishments... and...

  Why had that little voice, that very young little voice, come into her head today, talking about ‘the bad place’? The events she’d been remembering during the long drive north had all taken place in her teenage years, but the little voice in her head had been much, much younger. What other bad things had happened here? Something she’d been too young to remember? But if it had been so bad, surely she wouldn’t have forgotten?

  Or maybe it was better to forget.

  The Stranger

  They were here, his darlings, and he had seen them. Helen would have unpacked by now, they might even be having tea. Or maybe his wonderful girls were snuggled up on the sofa, whispering and exchanging sweet little kisses. How he would love to snuggle and kiss with them.

  Soon he would have to make a difficult choice. Big Helen or little Helen, which of them should he take first? The little girl was wonderful: long dark hair, and such a sweet face, so very like his first Helen. He would never have thought he could love a child this way. His own Helen as he had never known her. How lucky he was to have her now.

  He would make plans carefully. He would meet them around the village first, talk to them and gain their friendship, maybe make occasional visits. Then one by one he would take them to the special place in the woods and send them off to Paradise where they belonged. Little Helen first, yes, that would be best, because then big Helen would turn to him, her friend, in her grief. He would comfort her, hold her close to his heart and feel how trusting she was and how grateful, and she would hold him too, moaning in her distress and oh, how good it would feel, and then he would tell her gently that he was sending her to join little Helen in Paradise. She’d be pleased, of course, but afraid, too, and the very thought of it was making him shiver and sweat all over again. It would be so perfect, so holy, yes, truly something sacred. Soon he would have three Helens in Paradise.

  He was going to be rich.

  Of course the first Helen had been a mistake. He hadn’t meant for her to go to Paradise, she should still be here, with him, on earth. But accidents happen and Helen had died, and in a strange kind of way it was better like this, otherwise he’d never have known how sweet it was to have an angel in Paradise. Ever since then he’d been searching for another Helen. Many times he’d thought he’d found one, only to be disappointed. Now he had two at once. And when it was all over, surely then he would have some sort of peace again, because the thought of darling Helen alone in Paradise was just too unbearably sad. Helen needed company, a sister and a little daughter. Soon now she would have them. How happy they would be.

  Chapter Three

  Monday, 10th July

  Alicia

  ‘Mummy? What did Aunt Margaret mean last night when she said there were too many strangers in the village?’

  Alicia smiled, brushing out Jenny’s tangled curls. Trust Jen. She had ears like an aerial, constantly picking up signals not necessarily meant for her. Margaret had been speaking generally, but the bottom line was she didn’t approve of the fact that villages were for commuting from nowadays, which meant people moving in and out. Change and strangers all over the place in what had once been an intimate, stable community.

  And her aunt must know, deep down, that big changes concerning her own life in this house would be inevitable soon. But none of this was explainable to an eight-year-old. Alicia reached for Jen’s hair slides.

  ‘Nothing really. A lot of new people have moved into the village this year, that’s all.’

  ‘So they’re not bad strangers?’ Jenny’s eyes were still troubled, and Alicia shook her head.

  ‘Nope. Just people,’ she said firmly. ‘But the rules here are the same as at home, never go anywhere with someone you don’t know. Okay, that’s you.’

  Jenny ran to the window and waved down to Conker who was sniffing about the grass below. Alicia smiled ironically. At least her daughter was going to have better memories of Lower Banford than she herself had. And actually, she was beginning to realise just how few memories she had of her pre-teen self in this house. Years and years of life and almost no memory of them. Was that normal?

  It was horrible, living here again. Twice that night she’d wakened, her heart pounding. And that same lingering feeling that she had been afraid like this before, a long time ago when she was even younger than Jenny. She’d been so vulnerable back then, so afraid of... of what? Was that one of the blanked-out memories? Or maybe it was just the whole situation with her father that was making her so uneasy now.

  Jenny grabbed her sandals, as yet unworn. ‘Woohoo, summer holidays and new sandals! Can we go to the river today? And the woods?’

  Alicia nodded, trying to smile. This ‘holiday’ was going to turn into a constant battle to keep Jen happy, and at the same time sort out things that had to be sorted. Margaret was obviously going to need a considerable amount of persuasion about the whole care home idea, and Jen would want to be here, there and everywhere. Diplomacy would have to be the name of the game and there was no time like the present to start.

  ‘Grandpa’s doctor is coming after breakfast, and I want to see him first,’ she said, shaking out the duvet. ‘Then afterwards we’ll do something together. Alright?’

  ‘S’pose. But I do want to go and see the river today, okay?’

  Jenny raced downstairs, and Alicia sighed. The river they would manage, but oh for some eight-year-old energy. All the same, having fun here with her daughter might help her lay some ghosts to rest.

  She finished tidying the room and stepped across the landing, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboard in case it woke her father. She could hear his breath rattling as he snored away, and realised that she felt no emotion towards him whatsoever. Except contempt. Hell, was it normal to still resent your father at her age?

  His bedroom door was half open, and Alicia glanced in. The old iron crucifix was still hanging above the bed, stark against the whiteness of the wall, and she could feel her heart thump as she stared at it. Something
here really was giving her the creeps, a horrible sense of unease was crawling over her skin. And yet she had lived here for years... she had been born in that bedroom, and apart from a few days spent with Margaret every summer she had slept in this house every night of her life until she was sixteen. There had been no escaping the bad place for little Alicia. Thank God she’d be able to talk to the doctor today and set the ball rolling about finding a place for her father.

  ‘What time’s Doctor Morton coming?’ she asked Margaret after breakfast.

  ‘Half past ten,’ said Margaret. ‘But it’s Doctor Carter now, he’s taking over Doctor Morton’s practice. Frank Carter, you might remember him, his family lived here way back before they moved down south. His wife died in some kind of accident a few years ago apparently.’

  Alicia stared. ‘Frank Carter? Yes, I do remember him. His sister was one of my friends at primary school. Sonja. They left just before we went to secondary school.’

  And just after her father had been so mad at them both... She hadn’t thought about it for years. They’d been about twelve, her and Sonja, and they’d spent an evening secretly making Valentine’s cards in Alicia’s room. Unknown to Alicia, her father had been standing outside the door listening to all their girly talk about boys and who fancied who. He had stormed into the room, sent Sonja home and then dragged Alicia down to the kitchen where he’d made her stand reading the bible aloud. For two solid hours he’d sat there, his eyes fixed on her as she stumbled through the Old Testament. She had loathed him then and the feeling had probably been mutual.

  Margaret sniffed. ‘Well, Frank’s back. I don’t know why on earth he wanted to come back to a little place like this.’

  ‘Maybe because he has happy memories here?’ suggested Alicia gently. ‘It must have been tough for him, losing his wife like that.’

  She looked at her aunt, concerned. Margaret was rinsing round the sink and blinking back tears.

  She really does hate change, realised Alicia. But things couldn’t go on like this, Margaret must see that. Her beloved Bob’s condition was only going to deteriorate.

  A dull thud upstairs sent Margaret scuttling to the door. ‘That’s Bob. I’ll help him dress and you make fresh tea. I expect the doctor’ll take a cup too.’

  She was gone before Alicia could draw breath. Grimly, she put the kettle on. Being independent was fine and good, but Margaret was overdoing it. At this rate she’d have a stroke too if she wasn’t careful. Anyway, her father wouldn’t realise if he was here at home, or somewhere else in a home. Or would he?

  Something to ask the doctor about, she thought, hearing a car door slam outside.

  Frank Carter was in the hallway before she got to the door, and Alicia blinked. She would never have recognised him. He was slight, only a few inches taller than she was, with overlong dark hair and a thin, lined face. Had the lines come when his wife died? A mere divorce had just about doubled her own tally of frown lines. What must it be like to lose the person you loved most of all, just like that? Please God she would never find out. He smiled, showing not unattractively crooked teeth, and held out his hand.

  ‘Hello, Alicia,’ he said. ‘You’ve changed. I saw you in the village last Saturday and I have to confess I didn’t recognise you at first. You’ve grown up since we last met.’

  The hand gripping hers was warm, and Alicia felt comforted. This was her old friend’s brother, and he’d been a part of her world back then. He was a few years older, too, he might remember things she couldn’t. They could jog down memory lane together and maybe he could help her dig up some of the forgotten memories.

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly yesterday.’

  Frank laughed. ‘Mrs Mullen, ah... reminded me all about you,’ he said, leaning against the cutlery drawer. ‘She even remembered how you and Sonja once let down the tyres on my bike while I was in buying sweets. I suppose you had your reasons but I can’t remember at all what I’d done to deserve such... such wrath.’

  Alicia grinned at him. He seemed nervous, but that was ridiculous. Maybe he was shy, or possibly it was awkward, having your sister’s old school friend’s parent as a patient.

  ‘I expect we were just being brats. What’s Sonja up to these days?’

  He pulled a face and grinned. ‘Sonja’s an architect, married to an ambassador, three small boys and at the moment they’re living in Paris. Posh dinner parties all the time.’

  Alicia laughed. ‘Not much like life in Lower Banford, then.’

  ‘You could say that. They’ll be here in a couple of weeks, actually, passing through on the way up north to John’s mother in St Andrews first of all, and then staying with me the first two weeks in August on their way back. You’ll still be here then, won’t you?’

  Alicia took a deep breath. Wow. Something to look forward to. Summer in Lower Banford might be more fun than she’d anticipated. But first they had to sort her father out. She smiled her most persuasive smile at Frank Carter.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here. I could use some support to convince Margaret about a care home for my father. It’s getting too much for her here.’

  He looked at her sympathetically. ‘I know, but she’s adamant about keeping Bob at home. And of course she’s right about him still being able to get up the stairs and so on, but that could change any time and in all other areas he does need a lot of care. I think you’ll have to ride gently for a bit but hopefully she’ll agree in the end. I suppose you’re only here for the holidays?’

  Alicia suppressed a shudder. ‘Only’ for the holidays... six weeks in Lower Banford sounded like eternity. She nodded at Frank and he leaned back against the table.

  ‘Right. With your say-so I’ll put him on the list for St. Joseph’s, the geriatric hospital in Middle Banford. It’s an excellent place, Alicia. They have a new chief of nursing now, Doug Patton, and he’s really keen. We can try to get Margaret over there for a visit one day this week, let her see the place for herself.’

  Alicia looked at him appreciatively. At last, someone who was going to help her. ‘Sounds good. I’ll talk to her and get back to you.’

  She handed over a mug of tea, noticing the threadbare cuffs on his jacket and the purple tie that was screaming at the fawn checked shirt. Didn’t he notice what he was putting on in the morning?

  Margaret appeared in the hallway with Bob shuffling beside her, not looking at any of them. Alicia saw stubbornness written right across her aunt’s face, and felt her own jaw tighten as she poured tea for her father. The sooner they got this situation sorted, the better.

  Frank followed her into the living room. ‘Let Alicia take over for a bit here, Margaret,’ he said firmly. ‘You should have a complete break, you’re tired and you deserve it. Does - ’

  ‘Aaaaah!’ The wheezy, guttural sound was coming from deep in the old man’s throat. Alicia stepped back. Her father’s eyes were fixed on hers and his mouth was open.

  Margaret bent over to hug him. ‘Yes, dear, it’s Alicia, back home from Bedford! Isn’t that nice?’ She turned to Alicia, beaming. ‘He knows you, lovey! Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Aaah ha ha ha,’ said Bob, his eyes never leaving Alicia’s. It almost sounded as if he was laughing.

  ‘That’s right, dear. Alicia. She’s home now. Look, here’s your tea.’

  Margaret helped him with the mug, and Alicia rubbed her face. Shit and hell. As far as she knew her father had never tried to speak to her since the first stroke... but then she had never been living here, before. Had he been laughing just now? It was a horrible thought, and there was no way to tell. She forced her attention back to Margaret and Frank, who were discussing Bob’s medication. Alicia drew breath to help Frank convince Margaret that sleeping pills were a good idea, then froze at the sound of Jenny’s high, agitated voice outside.

  ‘Mummy! Aunt Margaret, come quick, it’s hurt, its back leg’s all blood... ’ She crashed into the room and pulled at Alicia’s arm.

  ‘Jenn
y, darling what’s hurt?’

  ‘It’s a kitty, out in the lane, I think it’s been run over, oh, come quick!’

  Frank lifted his bag. ‘Show me where it is and I’ll see what I can do.’

  Jenny looked at him, her eyes wide. ‘Are you a stranger?’ she asked, and Alicia hugged her daughter.

  ‘It’s okay, Jen, this is Doctor Frank Carter, he’s here to see Grandpa. I was at school with him when we were children.’

  Jenny’s face brightened immediately. ‘Can you help animals too?’ she said, stepping towards him.

  ‘I’ll try. Let’s have a look.’

  Margaret handed Bob’s mug to Alicia. ‘I’ll come too. It might be the Donovan’s cat.’

  She followed Frank and Jenny outside and the room fell silent. Alicia turned back to her father.

  ‘More tea?’ Again, she couldn’t bring herself to call him ‘Dad’. With immense discomfort, she held the mug to his lips and then wiped away the dribble after he’d taken a loud slurp. Hell, she was a nurse, and before she’d taken her present job as school nurse she’d even worked with geriatrics for God’s sake and she still couldn’t cope with this, she literally couldn’t stand having to touch her father. Trembling, she put the mug down on the mantelpiece. Six weeks of this would kill her.

  Her father coughed, then cleared his throat and leaned back in the armchair, his eyes fixed on her again. His mouth stretched to one side and she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or leering at her. Alicia managed a quick grin in return, watching his face as he chuckled away to himself. This was quite appalling, and there was no way to tell what he was thinking, sitting there in his chair. Did he know who she was? The first stroke had put an end to his ability to communicate; the speech therapist had tried various non-verbal methods but he had been uncooperative and the end opinion was that his understanding of the world was very limited.

  She had never been so glad to see Margaret come back into the room.