The Woman in the Woods

by Lisa Hall

  ‘I think you’re just really, really tired, Al.’ He finishes fussing with his cuffs and pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around me. ‘I wish I could stay home, but this case … I can’t. I would if I could.’ I lean into him, breathing in the fresh scent of his aftershave, but as he says the words his phone buzzes in his pocket and I can feel him fight to not pick it up, to not check the message. ‘Can we talk about it tonight?’

  I pull away. ‘No, it’s OK. I’m fine, really. You need to go in, I know this case is important to you. Naomi is only around the corner if I need help, and your mum is at the other end of the phone.’ I’m lucky that both my closest friend and Rav’s mother are close at hand, not that I want to rely on them too much. ‘I’ve done this all before, remember? I just had a rough night, and I’ve got a busy day ahead today. I’m finally going to sort that stuff out in the attic.’ I smile, hoping that it stays fixed on my face and doesn’t wobble off.

  Rav’s relief is evident as he smiles back and shrugs on his jacket, leaning down to kiss me hard on the mouth before pulling his phone out. ‘I have to go,’ he sighs. ‘You have a good day, OK? And be careful up in that attic.’

  ‘I will,’ I say, shooing him towards the door. ‘I need to get ready too – I have to take Mina to nursery. I’ll take a slow walk up there, and it’ll do the baby good to get some fresh air.’

  ‘OK. Great. It’ll do you some good as well.’ Rav frowns. ‘I might be late tonight. I’ll try to be back before Mina goes to bed, but we have a lot to get done today. I love you.’ He leans over to kiss me again, and what he says next makes my blood run cold. ‘I was worried about you, you know. When Leo was crying last night, you were just lying there, with your eyes open, not moving. I didn’t know what to think when I woke up and you weren’t there.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say quietly, but he is already rushing down the path, towards the car, his mind already moving past us to the day he has ahead of him. What does he mean, I was lying there with my eyes open? Wasn’t I asleep? And if I was awake, how could I have had a nightmare? An icy finger runs up my spine as I turn his words over in my mind, dread settling on my shoulders. Because if it wasn’t a nightmare, then what was it? The words on my lips last night swim before me, as if written in neon. What did I do?

  Chapter Two

  I get Mina washed and dressed, and by some miracle manage to get us out of the house only five minutes or so late for nursery. The morning air is already warm, and I lift my face slightly, letting the sun brush over my cheeks. By the time I have handed Mina over to the nursery staff and started the short walk back, I am hot, sweat tickling the nape of my neck and the idea of heading up into the stuffy, humid attic doesn’t feel quite as appealing as it did.

  I walk past the village sign that proudly denotes Pluckley as the most haunted village in England, a gossamer thin cobweb hanging from one corner, blowing in the slight early summer breeze. A ripple of unease runs down my spine. I had laughed when Rav told me that Pluckley was known that way, the idea of ghosts seeming ridiculous and fanciful, but this morning I am tired and unsettled by my dream and something prickles on the back of my neck.

  ‘Allie?’

  A voice behind me stops me in my slow plod towards the house and I let out a tiny sigh. I can see the hedge that masks our house from the road, the wonky chimney stack that sits atop our roof, the post of the small, wrought-iron gate that leads up the path to the front door. I turn, glancing into the pram as I do so, to make sure that cessation of movement hasn’t woken the baby.

  ‘I thought that was you. How are you feeling?’ Naomi pulls me into a hug, and I wince slightly as my back twinges. ‘Oh God. Sorry. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No, just a twinge. I fell asleep at the kitchen table, believe it or not.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing, no wonder you’re feeling stiff. Did you have a rough night?’ Naomi squeezes my shoulder in sympathy.

  ‘I just didn’t sleep too well, that’s all.’

  Naomi’s face creases in concern. ‘You do look tired. I was coming to see you later, if that’s OK, just to catch up and see if you wanted anything. If you need to rest, I can look after Leo if you want to go to bed for an hour? I’m just on my way into the shop but we’re not too busy so I’ll be done by lunchtime.’

  I feel a pang of envy at the image of Naomi standing in the florists where we both work, her nimble fingers twisting and tying wire around sprays of roses and chrysanthemums. I find myself missing the sweet scent of freesias and lavender, the cloying perfume of stargazer lilies, the earthy scent every time I step inside the shop. ‘That would be nice, to catch up I mean. You don’t need to look after the baby.’ I force a smile onto my face, the thought of an hour of uninterrupted sleep calling to me like a drug. What did I do? I shiver, the image of the gloomy, dark staircase of my dream rising in my mind and laying a blanket of dread over my shoulders.

  ‘Oops, somebody walked over your grave.’ Naomi frowns. ‘Are you sure you’re OK, Al?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Like I said, just tired.’

  ‘I suppose you want to get this little one back before he wakes up. I’ll walk up the road with you.’ I let Naomi lead the way, her arm bumping against mine as we walk and she chatters about the shop, the customers, the flowers.

  Naomi and I had met when we were both training to be florists. We hit it off straight away, my quiet, insular nature drawn to Naomi’s lively, more outgoing one. She helped draw me out of my shell, and we were inseparable until I married Rav. Naomi was the one I went to when Rav and I had our first date, and then our first fight, the one I went to when I took Rav home to meet my mother for the first time, and things didn’t go the way I thought they would. Naomi is the first person – after Rav – I told when I found out I was expecting Mina, and she was the first person I rang when my water broke. She is the one who has mopped up my tears, made me laugh until I cried, listened without judgement to all of my secrets. She is, quite simply, my best friend. I thought us moving to Pluckley, after making the decision that we didn’t want to bring Mina up in the city, might mean that our friendship would stutter a little – she had finally settled down with Jason and they were trying for a baby – the distance between us, although not great in miles, meaning that we wouldn’t get to spend half the time together that we used to. But not long after Mina was born, when I had gone back to work as the manager of The Daisy Chain, Naomi had arrived in Pluckley, without Jason, and before I knew it, she had a job working under me.

  ‘… so, do you think that would be OK?’ I realize Naomi has been talking to me and I have no idea what she was saying, so intent was I on thinking about the past.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’m sure.’ I smile, hoping I haven’t accidentally given her terrible advice. ‘Listen, I’ve got a few bits to do today … I told Rav I’d sort out those boxes in the attic, and I only have a few hours before I have to pick Mina up again. Pop over tomorrow instead?’

  ‘I’ll bring cake.’ Naomi grins and I let her kiss me on the cheek, inhaling her sweet, floral perfume and watching her walk away for a moment before wheeling the pram up the path and bumping it over the threshold into the hallway.

  Taking advantage of the baby sleeping, I tuck the monitor into my back pocket, and slowly ascend the rickety ladder that leads to the attic space. If I’m honest, the attic was never going to be my favourite place to spend the morning, but I had told Rav I was going to clear some of the boxes out, and now I felt obliged to follow through on it. When we moved into the cottage, just a few months before Leo was due to be born, we had piled boxes of our belongings into the attic, Rav swearing that he would go through them once we got settled. He hadn’t, just as he hasn’t yet filled in the pond in the garden as he promised, his position as prosecutor on a high-profile case taking every moment of his time.

  Now, I sit back on my haunches, wiping dust and grime from the ladder onto my jeans and survey the dingy space ahead of me. Rav has stacked our boxes neatly to one side, but the attic is filled with y
ears of other people’s possessions, left abandoned and unloved as they have moved on. I pull out a box marked ‘Summer’ and peer into it, seeing some of Rav’s summer shirts, Mina’s armbands, an old sari of mine that I bought in India years ago. I flip the lid over and push it back into place. As I reach for the next box there is movement ahead of me, an activity to match the movement of my own arm and I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest before I let out a laugh, a breath that wheezes its way out of my chest. A mirror. Crawling forward, careful not to bang my head on the beams, I see it propped up against the far wall, clearly left behind by a previous occupant. I scooch along the floorboards, aware that I am getting covered in cobwebs and grime, past the overhead beam into a space where I can stand. It’s a full-length mirror, the glass spotted and dirty but with the most beautiful ornate frame. Getting closer, I run my finger over the whorls and curls of the frame, my skin coming away black with dirt, and I wonder why anyone would leave anything so beautiful behind. It would be perfect in the hallway, I think, and I move closer, testing the weight of it. It’s heavy, but I think if Rav gave me a hand we could get it downstairs. Get it cleaned up. Hang it in the hallway. I imagine myself, checking my reflection in it on the way out of the house every morning and have to suppress a smile. It feels like unexpected treasure.

  It doesn’t take long to pull down a couple of boxes of books and one containing cushions and throws. At the top of the stairs, the landing is cold even though the sky outside is still a brilliant blue, and I feel a sense of déjà vu tickling at the base of my spine, the memory of my dream close and heavy. I peep into the bedroom to make sure the baby still has his blanket over him. As I lean over the cot, taking in his tufts of dark hair, the way his hands ball into fists on either side of his head, he stirs and I hold my breath, before leaning down and scooping him up. He nestles under my chin, his head bobbing as he roots around looking for food. Sinking into the nursing chair, I draw him close and let him feed, forgetting about the contents of the boxes that now need to be put away. Trying to forget about the creak of the stairs, the cold spot on the landing.

  Twenty minutes later, I groan inwardly as I push the pram towards the preschool building. There is a large gathering of mothers outside, which tells me I am early and will have to wait until they open the doors. Usually I wouldn’t mind – I’m used to spending time chatting with customers as I create their bouquets – but I don’t want to make conversation today, the shadow left by the dream making me feel unsettled, as if a storm is brewing inside me. I wish now that Rav had a job where he could have stayed home from work.

  ‘Ahhh, let’s have a peep.’ A woman I think I vaguely recognize from previous pick-up and drop-off times peers into the pram, her hands clutching the handles of her own designer travel system. ‘Beautiful. How old is he now?’

  ‘He’s errr … he’s four weeks old now.’ I clutch the handle of the pram a little tighter, unnerved by her familiarity. I haven’t spoken to her before, I don’t think.

  ‘Rav back at work, is he?’ She smiles, showing perfect white teeth. ‘It’s nice to get into a routine, isn’t it?’

  I stare at her for a moment, before nodding. ‘Yes. Always good.’ Rav must have been chatting to the mums when he dropped Mina off the first week I was home after having Leo. The one week that he could spare away from work. That would explain her familiarity. I peer over into the pram she is holding. ‘How old is your little one?’ I can’t tell if it is a boy or a girl.

  ‘Oh, he’s three months old now. Sleeping through the night already like a little angel. I’m going to start weaning him soon.’ She fussily tucks the blanket tighter around the gurgling baby. Weaning at three months (and sleeping through the night) seems a little early to me, but that isn’t what is making me feel unsettled. Before I can think it through, before I can try and figure out what it is that has made an icy fist clench low in my stomach, the doors are thrown open and ‘Aunty Linda’, the preschool manager, is ushering us all inside.

  Mina stands patiently, her rucksack on her back, until she sees me and starts waving and calling to me. I park the pram up and go to her, making sure she has all her things.

  ‘Mrs Harper?’ Aunty Linda stands behind me, a stern expression on her face. ‘I know you’ve only just had a baby, but if you’re going to send Mina in wellies, can I please ask that you pop some plimsolls in her bag? We can’t really have children running about in wellies, not on this slippery floor. It isn’t very comfortable for the child either.’

  My cheeks flaming red, I apologize and grasp Mina by the hand, eager to get out onto the street and get home. What on earth was I thinking? She must have put them on while I was rushing to get out of the door on time. It’s May, for heaven’s sake. As I struggle to manoeuvre the pram over the step out into the car park, feeling sweat start to bead on the back of my neck, the weaning woman appears beside me, letting go of her own pushchair to help me get it over the step.

  ‘There,’ she says smiling, and I have no choice but to say thank you and smile back. ‘It’s always a nightmare trying to get over that awful step. I’m Tara, by the way.’

  ‘Allie.’

  ‘Listen, Allie, I don’t know if you would be interested but there’s a mother and baby group at the village church on a Thursday morning. I go most weeks and so does Karen.’ She gestures to another woman with shiny dark hair, a baby in a spotlessly clean Babygro on her hip. ‘We’d love it if you could join us.’

  I can’t respond for a moment as I realize what it is that had me so unsettled outside the preschool.

  ‘Allie? It’s literally right next door to the preschool here, so you wouldn’t be far away if they needed you for any reason.’

  ‘Um … yes, thank you. I’ll definitely think about it.’ I smile weakly and place Mina’s hand on the pram, eager to get away, but it’s not the proximity of the toddler group that has me feeling shaken. The blanket. The blue, handmade blanket that covered Tara’s baby in the pushchair looks unnervingly like the one that lay on the bed in the darkened bedroom in my dream.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I’ve found something,’ I say the moment Rav walks through the door. Mina is already fed, bathed and tucked up in bed, Rav failing to come through on his promise to be home in time to help out.

  ‘What?’ He sounds tired and distracted, as he shrugs off his jacket and lays his briefcase on the table.

  ‘Up in the attic. Remember I said I was going to go up and sort the boxes out? Well, I found something.’ Ignoring the frown on his face, I feel a little buzz of excitement at the thought of the mirror. ‘Come on, I want to show you.’ I reach for his hand, but he pulls back.

  ‘Can’t it wait? I’ve only just walked in the door, Al, I’m shattered.’

  ‘Oh. I suppose so.’ I deflate like a popped balloon. ‘I did want to show you before the light goes but I guess it can wait until the weekend.’

  Rav pauses, his hand on the knot of his tie. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’d rather show you,’ I say, and this time when I reach for his hand, he lets me take it. I lead him upstairs to the landing and stop under the loft hatch. ‘You might want to change out of that suit.’

  Rav sighs, but his eyes go to the hatch, and I know he won’t argue. ‘OK. I’ll change, you go on up.’

  I pull down the ladder as quietly as I can, aware that Mina is sleeping in the room next to mine, that the baby is tucked up in the cot in my bedroom. A waft of warm, musty air hits my face and I cough discreetly into my elbow before climbing the ladder, pulling myself up into the dusty space. The light is different in here now, later on in the day. The small round window at the front of the house lets the sun in in the morning, and when I came up earlier there was a shaft of sunlight beaming in, lighting the attic. Now, the sun has disappeared over the other side of the house and although the air is stiflingly warm, the attic is shrouded in shadows. I shiver, despite the heat, scrubbing my hands over my arms.

  ‘What it is that you’ve found the
n?’ Rav’s voice in my ear makes me jump and I press my hand to my mouth.

  ‘Bloody hell, Rav, you made me jump.’

  He laughs, tracing a finger over the bare skin at the back of my neck, making me shiver in a different way, and I decide to forgive him for being so snappy. ‘Come on then, Al, show me what you’ve found. I’m starving and I’ve still got a ton of paperwork to go through tonight ready for tomorrow. Unless you’ve found something rare and valuable that we can sell for a fortune, and I can retire in the morning?’ His mouth quirks upwards into a smile.

  ‘Don’t be daft. Over here.’ I step forward, catching movement ahead of me as I do. I stop for a second, my pulse speeding up, before I remember this morning. My actions mimicked in the mirror ahead of me, and again now as I move towards it, Rav close behind me.

  ‘Look,’ I say. ‘I found this mirror. Isn’t it beautiful?’ I run my finger over the carved frame again, just as I did hours before.

  ‘Yeah, it’s nice,’ Rav says. ‘Really nice, actually. I doubt it’s worth much though.’

  ‘I don’t want to sell it,’ I say, horrified at the thought. ‘I want us to use it, Rav. It would look amazing hanging in the hallway, don’t you think? It just needs a good clean and then it would finish off that space perfectly.’

  Rav runs his eyes over it again. ‘Yeah,’ he says eventually. ‘Yeah, it would look good. You clever thing. I suppose you want me to help you move it?’

  ‘Would you?’ I flutter my eyelashes at him, and he laughs. ‘Here, you take that side, and I’ll grab here.’ I clamp my hands firmly around the frame, one midway and one at the bottom. Together we manage to inch it towards the opening of the attic. It’s surprisingly less heavy than I first thought, but I am still sweating when we reach the space down to the landing below.

  ‘I’ll go down first, and then if you slide it towards me, I think I can manage to get it down. Just be careful,’ Rav instructs, before he starts to descend the ladder. As his head disappears through the opening, the shadows seem to gather and I feel the air stir, as if someone has walked up behind me. My arms breaking into goosebumps, I turn slowly, suddenly sure that there is someone, something up here with me, just waiting for Rav to leave, but when I look over my shoulder there is no one there.