Wall of Silence

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘But your diagnoses will still stand? People don’t suddenly change.’

  ‘They can, especially with FPP.’

  ‘FPP?’

  ‘Fantasy-prone personality, the condition Lilly struggled with then?’

  Melissa nodded but, inside, thoughts were raging through her mind as she recalled the encounter with Caitlin’s mother earlier.

  Kitty peered over at a pink beanbag. ‘You know, I still distinctly remember Lilly sitting on that beanbag, talking away to her big brother like he was still there.’

  ‘You mean Joel?’

  Kitty nodded. ‘I know you and Patrick were concerned for her but it’s actually rather normal after a traumatic event, especially when the mother isn’t present to support the child.’ She turned back to Melissa, her smile sickly sweet.

  Melissa gave her a look. ‘I was having to contend with my own grief.’

  ‘Of course! I’m not judging,’ Kitty said quickly. ‘In fact, when I heard, I was rather pleased. You know how I advocate getting away and immersing oneself in the forest.’

  Melissa rubbed at her temples as she thought back to that time. It had been raining relentlessly and Joel’s funeral had only been a week before. Patrick had had to attend an important meeting so Melissa was alone with the twins, who were themselves suffering from their brother’s loss. They both had an epic tantrum, then the lid of Melissa’s blender had flown off, splattering her with smoothie mixture. She’d slid down the kitchen wall, bits of strawberry and banana splashing over a top Patrick had helped Joel get her for her birthday, and she’d just cried and cried.

  When Lewis then shoved Lilly and she started crying, Melissa couldn’t face it. She just walked out of the back door and headed to the forest, walking and walking with no idea where she was heading until she got to her parents’ old cottage, which she now owned. She’d let herself in and curled up on her mother’s bed.

  Melissa stood up, grabbing her bag. ‘I really must get back to the kids.’

  Kitty frowned slightly then stood with her. ‘I’m here to talk if you need me, Melissa.’

  At a hundred pounds a pop, Melissa thought. ‘No, it’s fine, really. Thank you.’

  ‘Patrick would approve, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Kitty said. ‘He knows himself how beneficial therapy can be, having been here as a boy. He was one of my first clients when I moved to Forest Grove, you know,’ she said proudly. ‘And look how well he turned out.’

  Melissa frowned. ‘Patrick came to you as a boy?’

  Kitty’s smile faltered. ‘Oh. I thought you knew?’

  ‘I didn’t. What did he come for?’

  ‘Client–therapist confidentiality!’ Kitty said with a nervous laugh.

  ‘Would it explain his infidelity? I presume you’ve heard,’ Melissa said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  Kitty’s face closed up. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients’ issues. Let me see you out.’

  Melissa sighed and followed her out. As she walked back to Bill and Rosemary’s, she thought about what Kitty had told her. Why would Patrick have come to see her as a child? She tried to think of anything that would have made his parents take their son to Kitty, but nothing came to mind. Sure, he was a bit promiscuous for a boy his age but, beyond that, he seemed normal enough.

  But then her kids seemed normal too, didn’t they? And yet still one of them had stabbed their father.

  As Melissa left Birch Road and approached Rosemary and Bill’s house, she noticed a police car outside.

  What now?

  She took a deep breath and let herself in to find Detective Crawford in the kitchen with Bill and Rosemary. The kids were outside in the garden, darting worried glances towards the detective.

  ‘Ah good, you’re back,’ Detective Crawford said when Melissa walked in.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Melissa asked, her pulse throbbing in her throat as Bill put his hand on Rosemary’s shoulder.

  ‘We were just wondering if you’d come down to the station for a chat,’ the detective said.

  Melissa looked at him in shock. ‘Me? Now?’

  ‘Yes, you . . . and right now,’ Detective Crawford said firmly.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Forest Grove Facebook Chit Chat Group

  Friday 26th April, 2019

  6.45 p.m.

  Andrew Blake

  News just in: I just saw Melissa Byatt being led to a police car by one of the detectives in charge of the case.

  Belinda Bell

  Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.

  Rebecca Feine

  Talk about jumping to conclusions! They might just be updating her on the case!

  Belinda Bell

  Can’t they just do this at Bill and Rosemary’s? No, something fishy is going on and, frankly, it doesn’t surprise me.

  Debbie Lampard

  What a horrible thing to say, Belinda Bell!

  Rebecca Feine

  Yes, so much for innocence before being proven guilty.

  Andrew Blake

  How can we not when it comes to a Quail? My old ma always said the Quails were trouble.

  Pauline Sharpe

  Melissa’s dad certainly was. Ruby wasn’t trouble, though, she was just different, with all her herbal remedies. I used to think she was so cool when I saw her around town. It’s such a shame what happened to her.

  Belinda Bell

  Oh yes, I remember Melissa’s dad. He was a big handsome fella, very charming.

  Rebecca Feine

  Charming?! Are you forgetting all the bruises we’d see on Ruby’s face when she popped into town to do the shopping?

  Eamon Piper

  It wasn’t just Ruby either. Melissa would often turn up to school with bruises. It was well known around the village.

  Daphne Peterson

  And nobody intervened? God, this place!

  Kitty Fletcher

  It was different back then, Daphne. People tended to just leave it to the family to sort it out. And Ruby did eventually leave him when she went to live with the Byatts.

  Belinda Bell

  Fat lot of good that did her!

  Jackie Shillingford

  Don’t say that, they were good for her! Sometimes people just don’t want to be helped in the end.

  Kitty Fletcher

  Jackie is, sadly, quite right there.

  Belinda Bell

  Exactly! Why stay with Frank so long anyway? They say certain women are drawn to men like that. Maybe Ruby passed that penchant for violent men down to her daughter. Kitty, you’ll know. Do women who are drawn to violent men tend to have daughters who are also attracted to violent men?

  Kitty Fletcher

  I won’t comment on this out of professional courtesy. But there are some interesting studies into the genetic legacy of trauma.

  Daphne Peterson

  So you’re saying it’s the women’s genes that draw them to violent men? Essentially, it’s the women’s fault? What utter garbage.

  Rebecca Feine

  Yes, garbage! And by saying that, you’re implying that Patrick was a domestic abuser because Melissa must be attracted to violent men . . . and that’s the reason she’s just been seen with the police, because they think she stabbed him in – what? Self-defence? This is getting ridiculous!

  Belinda Bell

  It’s just one theory . . .

  Peter Mileham

  How dare you imply that about Patrick, Belinda! I’ve known him for years, and there is no way he would hurt a hair on anyone’s head. Am pretty disgusted by these posts, especially by you, Belinda. I thought better of you!

  Rebecca Feine

  What did I say to you all?! Be careful what you post.

  Belinda Bell

  Oh, Andrea will delete this thread soon anyway, mark my words.

  Debbie Lampard

  Where IS Andrea? I bloody hope she does delete it! This family does not deserve to be raked over the c
oals like this.

  Rebecca Feine

  Andrea Cooper, help, please! This post needs to be deleted.

  Graham Cane

  Looks like Andrea’s done a runner!

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Friday 26th April, 2019

  7.15 p.m.

  ‘This feels rather formal,’ Melissa said, looking around her at the small police room Detective Crawford had brought her to, a different one from the room she’d been in with Lewis just a couple of days before. Detective Powell walked in and Melissa’s stomach sank even more.

  ‘This is formal, Mrs Byatt,’ Detective Powell said as she took a seat across from her. ‘This is an investigation into the attempted murder of your husband.’

  Murder.

  The word whirred in Melissa’s head, drilling painfully into the core of it. She tried to hold herself together. ‘Have there been developments?’

  ‘We just wanted to go over a few things,’ Detective Crawford replied vaguely.

  ‘Like this poster,’ Detective Powell said, opening a folder to reveal one of the posters, all crumpled up.

  Melissa gripped on to the edges of the table. How had they got it? She thought of the poster she’d kept. It had been at the bottom of her bag, hadn’t it? Unless there were more around the forest. She took some swift deep breaths to calm herself.

  ‘A nurse found this by your husband’s bed,’ Detective Powell said.

  Shit, Melissa thought. It must have slipped from her back pocket when she’d tried to hide it a few days ago.

  ‘You don’t look surprised, Melissa,’ Detective Powell said, tilting her head as she regarded Melissa. ‘It’s almost like you’ve seen one before?’

  Melissa put her head in her hands. She just couldn’t keep up the pretence any more.

  She took a deep breath then told them all about the posters – just the posters. Not her suspicions about the kids or the knife.

  ‘Any idea who put them up?’ asked Detective Crawford.

  She thought about it. Should she mention her suspicions about Maddy? She didn’t want to get her in trouble and, anyway, it might not even be Maddy who put them up. ‘Maybe someone with a political grudge against Patrick?’ she suggested. It was halfway true, if indeed it had been Maddy who put up the posters.

  ‘I thought you said nobody held any grudges against your husband?’ Detective Powell asked, those suspicious eyes of hers right in Melissa’s.

  ‘It’s just a suggestion,’ Melissa said, shrugging.

  ‘It seems to me you don’t really know your husband very well, Mrs Byatt.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder the same,’ Melissa admitted.

  ‘I presume you’re referring to his infidelities?’ Detective Powell asked.

  Melissa didn’t say anything.

  ‘Did you have any suspicions before that Patrick was ever unfaithful?’ the detective asked.

  ‘No.’ Melissa hesitated. ‘Well, there was something before we married, years ago, but I know of nothing since.’

  Detective Crawford looked down at his notepad, flicking back a few pages. ‘With Andrea Cooper, I believe?’

  Melissa nodded. ‘Yes. Who told you that?’

  ‘We can’t divulge our sources,’ Detective Powell said. ‘It seems there’s more to your marriage than meets the eye. And yet you gave the impression it was perfect.’

  ‘No marriage is perfect!’ Melissa said. She took a breath to calm down. ‘But I never suspected any affairs. All these rumours are coming as just as much of a shock to me as well.’

  ‘And what about the rumours about you, Mrs Byatt?’ Detective Crawford asked. ‘Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?’

  ‘Never,’ Melissa said firmly.

  ‘How would you describe your relationship with Ryan Day?’ Detective Powell asked.

  ‘I told you already, we’re old friends.’

  ‘Friends,’ Detective Crawford said, drumming his fingers on the table as he mulled over something. ‘I want you to think very carefully about this, Melissa. Are you sure it never went beyond a friendship between you and Ryan?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Melissa said. ‘There was a kiss once when we were teenagers, but nothing since. What’s this all about?’

  ‘We’ve had a new witness come forward,’ Detective Crawford said. ‘I’m afraid they tell a very different story.’

  ‘What kind of story? What do you mean?’ Melissa said, trying but failing to keep the panic from her voice.

  ‘They tell us that you’ve been having an affair with Ryan Day for a number of years,’ Detective Powell said, a satisfied smirk on her mouth.

  Melissa leaned over the table towards them. ‘No, no, that’s not true!’

  ‘And interestingly, Ryan Day has quite a rap sheet for a friendly little forest ranger,’ she added, looking down at her notes.

  ‘Rap sheet?’ Melissa asked. She searched her mind. Ryan had got into trouble when they were kids. Vandalism. The odd fight with Forest Grove boys when they dared to venture into his neck of the woods. That was it, though . . . as far as she knew, anyway. ‘Ryan wouldn’t hurt Patrick, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  They both gave her sceptical looks.

  Melissa pushed away from the table. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘Is it really?’ Detective Crawford said. ‘You can’t blame us for asking these questions.’ He looked down at the poster. ‘I mean, you’re not quite the perfect family we first thought you were, are you? And it seems others feel the same,’ he added, tapping the I know printed on the poster.

  ‘No, we’re bloody not, and it’s tearing me apart, as I thought we were perfect once too!’ Melissa stood up, clutching her bag to her stomach. ‘Unless you’re going to charge me with something, I’d like get back to my children, thanks.’

  Detective Crawford stood up. ‘I’ll let you out.’ They stepped from the room and walked down the corridor in silence until they got outside.

  ‘You’ve got this all wrong, you know,’ Melissa said.

  ‘Time will tell, won’t it?’ the detective replied before stepping back into the station.

  Melissa got back to Bill and Rosemary’s to find Bill waiting for her in the living room.

  ‘Rosemary’s with Patrick,’ he said.

  ‘Is he okay?’

  Bill nodded. ‘No change. So what did the police want?’

  ‘They found one of the posters,’ Melissa said, placing her jacket on the side. ‘And they wanted to ask me about all the rumours about me and Patrick.’

  Bill frowned. ‘I see.’

  ‘You know I’ve never been unfaithful to Patrick, don’t you?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know anything any more, Melissa.’

  ‘What about Patrick? I think it’s pretty clear he was unfaithful now, so don’t deny it.’

  Bill went to the window, looking out at the woods. ‘Yes, he may have had a few indiscretions.’

  Melissa slumped on to her chair. ‘Jesus, am I the only person who didn’t know?’

  ‘There have always been rumours,’ Bill replied. ‘I asked him once. He said he’d change.’

  Melissa put her head in her hands and Bill came over to her. ‘Melissa, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. God knows, I misbehaved a bit in my day. But that never stopped me loving Rosemary and the kids with all my heart.’

  ‘Does everyone in the village know?’

  Bill didn’t answer. Melissa stood up. ‘Look, Bill, I’m exhausted. I think I’ll just go and check on the kids then head to bed.’

  ‘Okay, Melissa. I’m always here if you need to talk. And you really should go and see Patrick. You didn’t see him at all yesterday!’

  She knew he was right. But with every new thing she learnt about Patrick, she felt herself getting further and further away from him. Like the man lying in that hospital bed wasn’t her husband and, instead, her real husband would walk in the door any minute.

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow.’


  She walked upstairs and went to the attic room, placing her ear to the door. She could hear a film being played. She opened it slightly to see the three kids squeezed up on one of the beds, watching something on Lewis’s laptop.

  ‘What are you watching?’ she asked.

  ‘The Hunger Games,’ Lilly replied. She patted the space next to her. ‘Come and join us.’

  Melissa walked in and slumped down next to Lilly, placing her head on her daughter’s shoulder. She breathed in her perfume, sweet tones with hints of honey. It made her feel safe, familiar.

  ‘What did the police say?’ Grace asked in a small voice.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Melissa said. ‘Nothing for you guys to worry about.’

  Lilly placed her hand on Melissa’s cheek, looking her in the eye, her forehead scrunched with worry. ‘Are you okay, Mum?’

  ‘Just tired, darling. I’d feel better if you guys told me what happened to your dad.’

  ‘Can’t we just watch a film together?’ Lewis asked. ‘Like we used to?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lilly said as Grace nodded. ‘I’d like to just pretend everything’s back to normal for a bit.’

  As Melissa looked at their sad faces, she wanted to break down and sob. But instead, she forced a smile. ‘Of course.’

  As they all watched the film, Melissa felt her eyes starting to droop and, before too long, she fell asleep. As she slept, she had her nightmare again. She was running through the forest in a nightdress, running from someone. Then she realised her hands felt wet. She looked down at them in the moonlight to see that they were caked in blood, so much that it dripped on to the leaves below. Then she saw the broken branch, the rope, that old silver ballet shoe. But this time, she heard a whimper from above her. She looked up and let out a cry: Ryan was hanging from a tree, a rope tight around his neck, his eyes desperate as he looked down at her.

  ‘Mummy?’ a voice said. She looked down to see Grace in her arms as a newborn. But she was talking. ‘Why is he hanging there, Mummy?’

  Melissa woke with a muffled scream, putting her hand to her mouth. She sat up on the bed, her head in her hands as she tried to control her breathing and push the remains of the dream away from her mind.

  She quickly peered at the kids, who were all now sleeping soundly too, Lilly curled up against Grace while Lewis was sprawled on the single bed across from them all, his arm flung above her head. Melissa placed her hand on her younger daughter’s warm cheek. Then she did the same with Lilly.