Wall of Silence

by Buchanan, Tracy

  ‘Patrick’s here,’ the doctor said quietly, going to the back of the ward and drawing away the blue curtain to reveal Patrick lying in a bed.

  Melissa barely recognised her husband.

  There was a tall machine next to him with a variety of tubes attached to his body, his heart and breathing constantly monitored. They’d shaved half his head to do the scan and the tube coming from his mouth made his face look lopsided.

  Her fingers touched her parted lips in shock and she felt her legs weaken. Bill put his hand on her back and the three of them walked up to Patrick. Melissa took his hand and stifled a sob. It was horrible to see a man so full of life, a man who rarely sat down, now so still and so tethered. He was always moving, whether it be on his bike, pedalling madly through the forest, or in the house, fixing something, playing with the kids, dancing, cooking. Even when they had their cinema nights, the five of them on the large corner sofa glued to the TV, Patrick would be getting up every few minutes to do something or another, wanting to perfect some DIY he’d done earlier in the day.

  ‘Sit down, for God’s sake, man,’ Lewis often joked, and Patrick would sigh, flopping down next to his son as Melissa laughed.

  Melissa took the seat next to Patrick, and Bill and Rosemary sat opposite her.

  ‘I’ll leave you now,’ the doctor said in a low voice. ‘Stay as long as you like.’

  When she walked away, Rosemary burst into tears, grasping her son’s hand and leaning her cheek against it.

  ‘Who would do this to you? Who?’

  Melissa took a deep breath to stop her own tears coming.

  Who had done this to Patrick?

  Melissa sat with Patrick a few hours later, the skies now dark, the view of Forest Grove from the window of the ward shrouded in night. She felt her heart yearn for the village, for her home, for nights curled up under thick blankets with her family around her, no blood, no secrets, just the sway of pines outside.

  She’d been in the room for five hours now, just sitting and holding Patrick’s hand, trying to wrap her head around what had happened as her phone lit up again and again with unread messages from well-wishers. Bill was getting a coffee in the café downstairs after giving Rosemary a lift home. Rosemary had her own health problems, having suffered a severe urine infection a few months before that saw her in hospital for a week, so they’d convinced her to go back home and look after the kids, Melissa promising to return in the early hours so Rosemary could come back after she had had some rest.

  Melissa smoothed her fingers over her husband’s bandaged head now, curling a dark strand of hair around her finger. He’d hate the fact that half his hair had been shaved off but he’d cover that by making a joke of it, say he ought to come to the hospital more often for a shave. She laughed to herself, but then the laugh turned into a sob. She leaned her forehead on his blanketed thigh, tears wetting the wool, feeling the bump of a tube underneath. It was the first thing she’d noticed as she’d glimpsed him through the trees all those years ago: his thatch of wavy hair. He was breathtakingly handsome, even then. She’d never really been into Disney films as a child, but she imagined he was how a Disney prince would look, with that thick dark hair, those broad shoulders and that dimpled chin.

  ‘Looks like a right ponce,’ her childhood friend Ryan had said as he and Melissa watched the new family arrive.

  For Ryan, Patrick was the embodiment of everything that was wrong about the new ‘eco-village’ that had been built on the doorstep of the forest they called home. When the letter had arrived informing their parents of the new building works due to take place, the two fourteen-year-old friends had hatched plans to make life difficult for the new residents, even sneaking into the building site at night and smashing new windows in glee.

  But as Melissa sat watching Patrick and his sister, Libby, that day, dressed all smart for their great-aunt’s funeral, all that resentment had been replaced by pure fascination. These kids weren’t like her and Ryan, all grubby-faced and skinny and filled to the brim with sadness and anger. They were rosy-cheeked with health and happiness, smart and smiling. As she’d thought that, Patrick had looked up and spotted the two feral kids staring at him from the trees. He’d raised his hand in greeting and Melissa had gone to raise hers in response. But then Ryan had grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

  There was a sound from nearby. Melissa looked up to see Daphne standing at the door to the room, a coffee and a muffin in her hand. She was staring at Patrick in shock, her green eyes brimming with tears. She’d changed out of her gym clothes and was wearing a beautiful cerise silk vest over patterned harem trousers.

  ‘I couldn’t just sit at home,’ she said. ‘I kept thinking about you all alone here.’ She walked over to Melissa, giving her a quick hug, her musky perfume wafting over her. ‘I know you probably can’t eat,’ she said as she handed Melissa the coffee and the muffin, ‘but I couldn’t come empty-handed.’

  ‘Thanks, you’re an angel.’ Melissa took a sip of the coffee, pleased to have an alternative to the weak coffee she’d been getting from the machine downstairs.

  Daphne squeezed Melissa’s shoulder then walked around to the chair on the other side of Patrick’s bed, sitting down with a sad sigh. Under the light above, Melissa could see Daphne’s attractive face was drawn and pale.

  ‘Any idea who did this to him?’ Daphne asked.

  Melissa shook her head.

  ‘Ryan couldn’t believe it when I told him.’

  Melissa wondered what her old friend would be making of it all. Ryan had never shaken off his disregard for Patrick. They were civil with each other; they had to be with Melissa and Daphne, his ex, getting on so well, and then when Lewis and his daughter with Daphne, Maddy, started dating. But that was it: no hint of any kind of bromance brewing there. Still, Ryan wouldn’t wish this on Patrick.

  ‘How are the kids?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘Shocked.’ Melissa thought of them back at home. She was itching to get back now and shake the truth out of them. They knew something, something more than they were letting on!

  Daphne’s eyes strayed to the dressing around Patrick’s head. ‘Unbelievable, something like this happening in Forest Grove. I rip the piss out of it but it’s the safest place I know.’

  ‘I know, I can’t wrap my head around it either.’ Melissa’s voice caught in her throat.

  ‘Oh, hon,’ Daphne said, leaning over Patrick to take Melissa’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry you’re going through this.’

  Melissa felt tears flood her eyes. She pressed her fists into them, desperate not to cry, on the off-chance Patrick could hear her. But she couldn’t help it; the sobs began to roll out.

  Daphne jumped up and walked around the bed to her, pulling her into a hug. ‘Let it all out. Don’t worry about my expensive top either.’

  Daphne really was such a good friend. Melissa still remembered the first time she had met her, while walking in the woods with Patrick on a freezing-cold day over fifteen years ago. Melissa had just discovered she was pregnant with the twins and was still trying to figure out how the hell she’d cope caring for newborn twins and Joel too.

  Melissa had spotted her old friend Ryan first. She hadn’t seen him much since moving away from the forest with her mother all those years ago, only occasionally during walks in the woods or around town as he attended to people’s trees. When she did see him, he was always alone . . . bar his dog, of course. But this time, a glamorous-looking redhead accompanied him, draped in a beautiful sapphire dress. It was so strange to see them together, glamour and grit combined. Melissa could spot the sexual chemistry a mile off, the way Ryan’s cheeks flushed as Daphne put her hand to his chest, laughing at something he’d said.

  Ryan’s making someone laugh? she remembered thinking.

  She also remembered feeling oddly jealous. She’d just presumed Ryan would live in the forest alone for ever, still her feral Beast Boy. It was a ridiculous notion, really. Ryan had grown to be impossibly handsome,
with his rugged looks and mesmerising blue eyes. The women in town would make up problems with their trees just to call him out and watch him at work with his father.

  When Ryan introduced Daphne to Melissa and Patrick that day, Patrick had surprised Melissa by inviting them to a late-summer BBQ they were having that evening. It had been so strange and exotic to see Ryan turn up that night, Daphne looking even more stunning in a short trendy dress with hummingbirds all over it. Melissa had felt dumpy in comparison, bloated and tired. As the night wore on, Daphne sought Melissa out and Melissa realised she was more than just a pretty face, possessing a wicked sense of humour and sharing her love of cider. They instantly hit it off and when Daphne offered her event-planning skills to help Patrick with his schemes to renovate the visitor centre, Melissa would sometimes pop into the centre and catch a coffee with Daphne while there. She was disappointed when Daphne told her she’d be returning to London a couple of months later.

  A few months after that, Daphne was back in Forest Grove and pregnant with Ryan’s child. Melissa only heard about it through the village grapevine and was disappointed that Daphne didn’t get in touch. They were both pregnant, after all. Instead, Daphne stayed huddled up in the forest with Ryan. But when the twins were born, followed by Maddy three months later, the two women inevitably ended up bumping into each other at various playgroups. Daphne didn’t seem like her old vivacious self at first, but eventually she came out of her shell again, the two women becoming firm friends. Melissa was sad when Daphne and Ryan eventually split up when Maddy was five, but she wasn’t surprised. They were so different, after all, and once the passion wore off, they really didn’t have a great deal in common. But it was an amicable split and they did a brilliant job co-parenting Maddy.

  ‘I just can’t believe this is happening,’ Melissa said to her friend now. ‘I thought, after everything with Joel, I could finally say things were working out.’

  Patrick moaned slightly.

  Melissa pulled away from Daphne and leaned forward. ‘Patrick?’ His eyes flickered but then he stilled again. ‘Oh, darling,’ she whispered, stroking his hand.

  ‘I should head off now, I just wanted to check you were okay,’ Daphne said, quickly picking her bag up, her own eyes glassy with tears.

  ‘This must be hard for you too, for the whole village,’ Melissa said as she watched Daphne. Patrick was so popular, especially with all the work he’d done for the community, raising funds to get the visitor centre renovated, and so much more on top.

  ‘Not as hard as it is for you,’ Daphne said. ‘But yeah, it’s a shock to the system. The Facebook group’s alight with it.’

  Melissa sighed. She had never thought she’d be the subject of a post on the Forest Grove Facebook group, let alone one as horrific as this. ‘Bet there’s lots of speculation?’ she asked carefully. Maybe someone had seen something, heard something, a clue for Melissa.

  ‘Lots of people heard the sirens, saw the police cars. Everyone’s shocked, of course, passing on their good wishes.’

  Melissa pulled her phone from her pocket.

  ‘Probably best you don’t look at it,’ Daphne insisted.

  ‘Oh, I can handle it.’ Melissa found the Facebook app and opened it. She took in her Facebook profile picture. It was of her and Patrick with the kids in the forest, bluebells spread out behind them. Bill had taken it just last week during a post-Sunday-roast walk.

  They’d been so happy.

  She looked down at Patrick, taking in his shaven head, the beeping monitors, his middle swathed in dressings.

  How could it have come to this?

  She sighed and turned her attention back to her phone, finding the post Daphne was referring to. ‘Oh, quelle surprise, Graham Cane and Belinda Bell are being their usual selves.’

  ‘Ignore them, they’re wankers,’ Daphne said with a sigh.

  ‘What the hell has my mum got to do with all this? And what does Andrew bloody Blake mean about Ryan?’

  Her eyes honed in on Rebecca Feine’s comment.

  Tragedy never seems far from the poor girl.

  Melissa thought of that ancient oak again. A broken branch. A silver ballet shoe on the ground.

  She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t the darkness just stop?

  Chapter Seven

  Friday 19th April, 2019

  6.13 a.m.

  I pretend I’m asleep when Mum checks in on us. I wish I could sleep. I haven’t all night. I keep feeling the blade slicing into Dad. How hot his blood felt on my fingers. Sticky too. And that gasp of surprise he gave before he fell down.

  I press my face into my pillow to stop myself from crying out and Mum’s shadow stretches across the room. She begins to walk over and I make my breath slow and deep like I do sometimes when she tries to wake me up for school. She leans down and kisses my cheek.

  Can she taste the salt of my tears?

  I don’t open my eyes no matter how much I want to, because if I do, I think I’ll tell her everything and it was agreed earlier that we definitely couldn’t.

  I think she’s going to leave but she stays where she is, watching me, and I can almost hear her brain trying to puzzle it all out. She knows something’s up, and we’ll be getting the third degree when we wake.

  She eventually leaves the room and I let out a quick succession of breaths. Outside, she begins talking to Nan in little whispers. The landing goes silent and I hear them walking down the stairs.

  I wonder whether to wake the other two just so I don’t feel so alone in Nan and Grandad’s massive attic room. I used to get scared here when I was little, swore I could see eyes watching me in the eaves. I’d hide under the covers, get all hot and sweaty and wish Mum and Dad didn’t have a social life so we never had to come here some Saturday evenings while they went out. I wonder if Mum used to feel the same when she lived in this attic, first with Grandma Quail then on her own. Nan and Grandad have even kept Mum’s drawings of trees on the walls.

  There’s one drawing I always look for whenever I’m here, of a huge oak tree with two sets of eyes staring out from a hollow inside. The eyes look scared and there’s a shadow stretching across the ground in front of the tree.

  I know what tree it is. Now I know what happened there as well. I wish I didn’t, though.

  God, I’m so tired. I’ll be a right state when I get up. What if I slip up and say something I shouldn’t?

  I twist and I turn but it’s no use, I just can’t sleep. So I get up and lie on the floor, ear and cheek to the ground to get as close as I can to Mum’s room below. I think I can hear her breathing and I start to cry, my tears soaking the carpet.

  I hope she never finds out what happened. I hope she never has to know it was me who did it.

  Chapter Eight

  Forest Grove Facebook Chit Chat Group

  Friday 19th April, 2019

  8.56 a.m.

  Kitty Fletcher

  Just wanted to post my love and sympathies for the whole Byatt family and hope and pray Patrick Byatt makes a speedy recovery. Can’t even imagine what they must be going through.

  Eamon Piper

  What are you talking about? I only saw Patrick at the cafe yesterday.

  Belinda Bell

  There was a post about it yesterday but looks like it’s been deleted this morning. There was an incident at the Byatts’ house yesterday afternoon. Andrea Cooper, why did you delete the post? Isn’t this group called ‘News and Chit Chat’?

  Andrea Cooper

  Please refer to the rules, Belinda.

  Rebecca Feine

  Probably because of Graham Cane’s moronic comments, Belinda.

  Peter Mileham

  Back to the topic at hand! Sadly, with Rosemary and Bill’s permission, I can confirm my good friend Patrick was injured (stabbed) yesterday in an attack in his own home. They suspect it was a break-in. His kids found him.

  Pauline Sharpe

  Stabbed? My God. What the hell is happening to Forest Grove latel
y? Wasn’t there a break-in on Birch Road last month? It must have something to do with the factory that opened in Ashbridge and all those immigrant workers. All my prayers and condolences to the Byatts.

  Eamon Piper

  Have to confess, that thought did occur to me too, Pauline.

  Debbie Lampard

  My brother knows people who work at the factory through his health and safety work. They’re good decent hard-working people, not criminals.

  Belinda Bell

  Was it a burglary gone wrong, then? Two scruffy-looking police officers knocked at the house earlier asking if I had seen anything but they were rather cagey about what happened when I asked them.

  Tommy Mileham

  Right, let’s get a search party together to find the scum that did this! My hounds will hunt them out.

  Graham Cane

  You going to bring that gun that’s in your profile picture, Tommy?

  Tommy Mileham

  Don’t tempt me . . .

  Rebecca Feine

  Guns? Don’t be ridiculous. Boys and their toys.

  Kitty Fletcher

  Girls like guns too, Rebecca.

  Rebecca Feine

  Ellie Mileham

  This is terrifying. Can we have a comment from PC Adrian Cooper? Isn’t he in this group? If there was an intruder, I’d like to know, please. I live on the next road and I have my kids to think about.

  Belinda Bell

  Lots of police in the forest at the moment. I can see from my top window, they’re all heading to the west of the woods . . .

  Andrew Blake

  Hmmmmm, who do we know that lives in that part of the forest . . . ;-)

  Rebecca Feine

  Andrew Blake, what’s that supposed to mean?

  Graham Cane

  Oh, come on, we all know who Andrew means . . . and if I’m right, this thread will be deleted by admin as quick as you can spell out R-Y-A-N!

  Rebecca Feine

  If you’re talking about Ryan Day, you’re barking up the wrong tree, literally. Everyone needs to stop speculating on here. Andrea Cooper, can you moderate this, please?