by Graham West
Alex lay back on the bed, allowing the sounds from his Bluetooth speaker to wash over him. Blakely had warned the staff they would be on reduced hours from next week, so Alex had gone to the supermarket and picked up a twelve-pack while they were on offer.
After three bottles, he decided to call the mystery girl again. She picked up immediately, and Alex waded straight in. “Hi, I’m sorry, but I need some answers. It’s about your nan.”
There was a long silence. Alex sensed she was about to put the phone down. “Please,” he blurted. “This is screwing with my head.”
The girl sounded irritated. “Yeah, and mine.”
“I wasn’t joking about your nan. I mean, I really was talking to her.”
The girl was breathing heavily, as if she’d been working out. “And I wasn’t joking, either. She’s dead. I can take you to her grave if you don’t believe me.”
“I do believe you, but I don’t believe in ghosts. So what’s going on?”
“Well, I certainly do,” the girl replied impatiently.
Alex wasn’t quite sure what to say but decided it might be good to meet up. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Maddison.”
Alex tried to picture her in his mind. Blonde? Brunette? “Okay, Maddison, where do you live?”
“Tabwell. Hunter Grove.”
“You fancy meeting up?”
She paused before answering, “Well, yeah. I guess.”
“Tomorrow? About five?”
“Yeah. I can meet you on the corner of our road.”
“Great. See you then.”
Alex flipped the phone on the bed beside him and lay back, picturing Maddison. Now she was there, in his mind, as pretty and as sexy as any girl he’d ever seen. Maybe that’s where she should stay, he thought because two beers later, he was wondering if the phone call had been such a good idea after all.
***
The meeting ended quickly. Matthews gave nothing away, and it was hardly surprising that Blakely Senior had stormed out. The retired councillor seemed anxious to protect the town’s reputation, but why? It was history, after all. If the locals’ ancestors had behaved badly several generations ago then who would really give a damn? Okay, Reverend Allington had become something of a saint, and Blakely understood why they wanted the man’s character to remain intact, but what else—who else—had been shitting on their own doorstep, and when?
Matthews downed his coffee in three gulps and disappeared with a final shot across the bows of Mosswood Adventure Park. “I hope you see sense,” he said with a weary smile. “Open up that cesspit of rage and you’ll live to regret it.”
Cesspit of rage? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Penny wasn’t impressed. “What is that guy playing at? I don’t blame your father for storming off. This is a business! If he thinks we should sit on that land, then your father deserves an explanation.”
Penny was right, of course. Blakely had thought the same thing but feared the explanation wouldn’t cut much ice with the old man. To him, it was just a forest, and unless the trees—what was left of them—had evolved into some kind of flesh-eating species, they needed to get in there as soon as possible before the company lost even more money.
Matthews might have left with a warning shot, but Blakely’s father issued one of his own.
“I’m heading back to Portugal,” he said, slinging his overnight bag across his shoulder. “I need this sorting, Dennis. because I’m starting to wonder if Mosswood is gonna be more trouble than it’s worth.”
Blakely felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been talking to a top chef over in Portugal. He’s interested in coming in with me, opening a restaurant over there. Maybe more than one.”
“Then you should,” Blakely said with a half-smile.
His father shook his head slowly. That was always a bad sign. “The restaurant trade sounds really appealing to me, Dennis. It’s where I’d like to put my money. And I mean all of my money.”
Blakely’s heart sank. Mosswood was his mistress—his love, his future. All his dreams, even the nightmares, revolved around the place. “You mean—”
“Yes, Dennis,” his father interrupted. “I’ll give you twelve months to get this place back on its feet.”
“Or what?” Blakely asked meekly.
“Or it goes to the highest bidder, and you’ll be working with Pablo, serving coffee to tourists in your best tuxedo.”
Blakely didn’t tell Penny that bit. He needed to talk to the Adams girl first.
***
Jenny had always found it easier to forgive than harbour any resentment, but it was difficult to look at Kayla, who’d insisted on trying to put things right by turning up at the cottage with a box of chocolates and a card with I’m so sorry on the front, along with a sad-faced emoji.
Jake saw the chocolates not as an apology but a gift—a lover’s gift—and he’d stormed off to work half an hour early. That left them together. Alone. Jenny’s world was crumbling. A few chocolates and a pathetic card from the local supermarket wasn’t going to cut it, anyway. Kayla had dressed down—no make-up, just an unflattering pair of grey joggers and a loose, white top.
If Jenny had physically attacked Kayla—if they had ended up grappling on the floor—she wondered where it would have ended. She really wanted to hurt Kayla, to slap her and watch her cry in pain. That’s for messing up my life, bitch! Jenny had never experienced such utter confusion—to hate someone yet to desire them too—but it wasn’t Kayla’s fault. Not really.
An hour later, cradling a lukewarm coffee in Sebastian’s lounge, Jenny felt safe, away from the eyes of a judgemental world. She’d told the old man it was a social call, but it didn’t take him long to see beyond the fake smile and small talk.
“There’s something troubling you,” he said. “And I’m guessing it’s the reason you’re here.”
Jenny began to cry, just as she had cried when Jake stormed out. Just as she’d cried after telling Kayla to get out of her house and never come back.
Sebastian waited. She loved that about him. It was at least five minutes—maybe more—before she composed herself. “I keep thinking about the fire,” she lied. “I keep remembering those flames and how I thought we were all going to die.” She shrugged. “It sounds stupid, I know. I’m alive, and I should be thanking God, but it just gets to me.”
Sebastian nodded slowly. “You were lucky. It must have been very frightening, but the memory will fade in time.”
Jenny smiled. The old guy had bought the lie—she thought.
Sebastian took a sip of coffee and, replacing it carefully in front of him, leaned forward. “Now, how about you tell me what’s really bothering you?”
Jenny sat up, rigid. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not suggesting your woodland adventure wasn’t traumatic, but you are a strong young woman. You escaped. You’re alive. You’re troubled by an affair much closer to your heart, but if you don’t wish to elaborate, I won’t press you.”
Jenny choked back fresh tears. “It’s Jake,” she sobbed. “It’s me and Jake.”
“You’re having marital problems?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“He’s found out about Kayla?”
Jenny gasped. Her stomach lurched up towards her chest and a cold chill ran through her. “What?”
“My dear, I have eyes. I’ve seen the way she looks at you—and the way you look at her.”
“Oh God.” Jenny rocked forward in her chair.
“I hoped it would blow over,” he said softly, “but I’m guessing it’s blown up instead.”
“Nothing’s happened,” Jenny assured him. “I mean, nothing serious. She thought we were alone and kissed me, but Jake was standing in the doorway. He went crazy then apologised the next day—that’s when I confessed I had feelings for her. He couldn’t handle that.”
/>
Sebastian smiled ruefully. “You have feelings,” he repeated, “but are you in love with her?”
Jenny shrugged.
“Or is it lust?”
Young people didn’t use that word much these days. Jenny couldn’t recall how long it had been since she’d last heard it. “I don’t know.”
Sebastian looked dispirited, appearing every inch the grandfather watching his family fall apart before his eyes. “I think you know what I’m going to say.” He paused for a moment, as if the advice he frequently issued with such eloquence had become a burden weighing heavily on his soul. “I cannot watch you throw away your life. There are those who would encourage you to leave Jake and stake your future with Kayla. They’d tell you to be honest. To be proud of who you are. And if you were unhappy with Jake—if you had known all along that your marriage was a sham—then I’d have to agree. But we both know that’s not the case. As far as I’m concerned, cheating with another woman is no different than cheating with another man.”
“I haven’t cheated,” Jenny protested.
“But you will,” Sebastian said. “You’re looking for some kind of absolution within your heart—a release that will allow you to wander.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to feel this way!”
Sebastian looked sternly over the top of his reading glasses. “Then you must find the resolve within yourself.”
Tears coursed down Jenny’s cheeks. The old man was right.
“When you find that strength—that resolve—Jake will see it in your eyes.”
Jenny looked down. Her whole body trembled.
“You do well to avert them,” Sebastian chided. “For I do not see that resolve. It may be some time before Jake wants you in his arms again. He may be cool, he may be distant, but you must never make his behaviour an excuse for taking Kayla into your bed.”
Jenny glanced up, catching the steely doggedness in the old man’s creviced face. He wasn’t going to let this happen. He was going to fight for the family he’d adopted, and if words were his only weapon, he would wield them with the ferocity of an ancient gladiator.
“Your future is with Jake,” he said. “I truly believe that. Any relationship with Kayla—other than a platonic one—will bring only misery. Not only to you but to everyone else in your life.”
Jenny stood. Sebastian’s words had crushed her spirit. Up until that moment, there had been a seed of an idea; small and almost undetectable, it had been nestling there, nevertheless. Could Kayla be the one? Could we find happiness together? She had not dared to consciously ask herself those questions, but they had lain there, beneath the guilt and desire to do what she believed was right.
“I have to go. I have to speak to Jake. I’ve got to put this right.”
Sebastian followed her to the door. She turned to face him as he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Now,” he whispered. “Now I see that resolve in your eyes. Be strong. Be strong and everything will be all right.”
Chapter Forty-One
Jenny wasn’t surprised to discover three missed calls from Dennis Blakely on her phone. She’d expected he would want to talk about Jacob Root’s remains as well as Mosswood itself. She pulled up outside the cottage, glancing through the windscreen at the empty driveway. Her heart sank. Jake wasn’t at home. He’d be camping out at his father’s place for a few days while he cooled down. Maybe his father would make him see sense.
She tapped on Blakely’s number and waited.
“Hi, Jenny.” The guy answered as if he’d been sitting with the phone in his hand. “I need to talk to you about the fire. I need to find out what the hell’s going on in that forest.”
Jenny sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blakely, it’s not a good time right now—”
Blakely cut in. “How about you and your fella come and spend a weekend here? On the house.”
Jenny could almost see Sebastian looking at her over the top of his glasses. Resolve! Yes, that was it. She needed to take control.
“Actually, that sounds like a plan. Would this weekend be okay?”
“Brilliant. You can have the executive suite.”
“I didn’t know you had one.”
“Well, to be honest, we don’t. It’ll just be a standard room with a couple of bottles of champagne thrown in.”
Jenny laughed. She wasn’t going to ask Jake if he wanted to go; she was going to tell him this was a second honeymoon. “Mr. Blakely, any chance you could scatter some rose petals on the bed?”
***
Alex’s heart beat hard. Was Maddison going to be the one? |Was there really someone out there who he’d learn to love as much as he loved Danni? From a distance, things didn’t look so good. There was someone standing on the corner, dressed in a pair of baggy denims and a grey tracksuit top with the hood pulled over their head. Their gender wasn’t clear.
Alex was hoping for a girly girl, but he couldn’t back out now, and any company at all would be better than another night in front of the TV. He was only a few metres away when Maddison turned, pulling down her hood to reveal a short bob of mousy-brown hair.
“Hi,” she said brightly, “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
Alex flashed her a smile. “Really? Why?”
“I must have sounded pretty crazy on the phone.”
“And are you?”
Maddison’s smile faded. Alex thought she looked like one of those sixties girls without the make-up. She was pretty, there was no doubt about that.
“I promise I’m not,” she said. “The place you saw my nan? She died there when it was Crest Hill. Everyone reckoned the place was haunted, and to be honest, I think it was.”
Alex thought it would be better not to say anything more until he’d found a rational explanation for what had happened to Liam. “What makes you say that?”
“My nan saw a girl. A young woman in a white nightgown with blood all down the front.”
“You believed her?”
Maddison tapped her temple. “Nan might have been old but she was all there. She used to work on the council, years ago.”
This girl was either a brilliant actress or she was telling the truth. “You fancy a burger or something?” he asked, changing the subject and hoping she hadn’t sensed his scepticism.
Maddison smiled. “Sure. I know a good place about a mile away.”
Alex nodded and they began to walk. “We could go see a movie after if you want?” The words tripped off his tongue before he’d had a chance to think twice.
“Like a date?”
Alex shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be. Just mates.”
Maddison grinned. “Sounds good. Is there something you want to see?”
“Not bothered,” he replied with a nervous laugh. “As long as it’s not about ghosts.”
***
Blakely stood on the spot where the cycle bay had been a few hours ago, staring down at the concrete through which the pitchfork had burst in his nightmares. It would take a couple of hours to break it up and sift through the rubble before they could exhume the remains of Jacob Root. His foreman was back with the two builders who had discovered the body. He was paying them well for their silence. They would oversee the whole operation, reuniting father and daughter.
He prayed it would put an end to the nightmares. The man would be able to rest in peace. Justice would be done. Blakely inhaled deeply; the heady sent of burnt wood was strangely pleasant yet deeply unsettling at the same time. The air was still—gloriously still—but the silence was broken by a sound that made him jump. He turned to see Councillor Matthews’ son standing behind him, looking out across the woodland.
Blakely offered a fake smile. “Are you here with your father?”
Young Matthews shook his head. “I need to talk to you.” He looked as stern as his old man.
“I’m guessing it’s about this place?”
“Yep—and my father.”
Blakely walked towards him. “It’s Gerard, isn’t
it?”
Matthews nodded. “My father doesn’t know I’m here. He’d flip.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. Just as long as you’re honest with me because we need to get this place open before my father pulls the rug from under me.”
Gerard frowned. “He’d do that?”
“He’s a businessman. No time for sentiment, unfortunately.” There was an awkward silence. “So what exactly do you want to tell me?”
Gerard Matthews looked down at his feet, appearing to study them for a while before looking up. “My father can be a bit of a crank sometimes, and I think he should have explained why he wants you to stay out of the forest.”
The son was obviously more of an open book than the ex-councillor. It might be worth pressing him a little harder. “Look, Gerard, if my father is going to agree to fencing off a good square mile of woodland, he’s going to need a bloody good reason.”
The young man sighed. “You’re right, but I can’t tell you. And to be honest, I don’t think your father would buy it even if I did. He seems like a very practical man.”
“But I’m not like him,” Blakely said. “The whole place is creepy—”
“I know about the whole thing with the girl in the attic,” Matthews interrupted. “My father and I have followed the story. Mosswood is something of an obsession of his.”
Blakely could well imagine the councillor would have obsessed over something or other. He had that look about him, but that didn’t make him a crank. “So why exactly are you here,” he asked abruptly.
Young Matthews took a deep breath. “I’ve come to plead,” he said in little more than a whisper. “As my father mentioned, I’m training to be a psychiatrist. I don’t have a lot of time for all this kind of stuff. My career involves dealing with troubled minds, not troubled spirits whose existence is not generally accepted in my field. But I’m begging you, on my father’s behalf and for the sake of the whole town, stay out of that place. Whatever the cost. Stay out.”
***
Alex bit into his burger. Maddison was right. It was the best he’d tasted in a long time. “How did you find out about this place?” he asked.
