The Woman in the Woods

by Lisa Hall

  ‘I can’t,’ I say eventually, trying my best to look regretful. ‘Mina finishes at one o’clock and then I’d have to get home to make her some lunch. Thank you for the offer though.’

  ‘No lunch then,’ Tara says, insistent. ‘You can at least come to the baby group and meet a few of the others. It’ll do you good to get out.’

  It’ll do you good to get out. The same advice I keep hearing from Rav, and Naomi, and even from Rav’s mum after she spoke to him a few nights ago. Along with, sleep when the baby sleeps, get into a routine. Everyone seems to be forgetting that the baby is only a few weeks old. We haven’t had time to get out or get into a routine.

  ‘Everyone is super nice,’ Tara is saying, ‘and I’ve picked up loads of tips from the other mums about how to get the baby sleeping longer at night, weaning tips, things like that.’ She peers at me closely, concern now working its way across her features.

  ‘Yes, OK,’ I say eventually. ‘OK. That would be nice.’ The boxes, the unpacking, the garden. It can all wait.

  Later, in the afternoon sunshine, I play with Mina on the lawn as the baby snoozes on a blanket in the shade, always keeping one eye on her in case she heads towards the pond.

  ‘Mummy, look.’ Mina toddles towards me, something pinched between her fingers. ‘A jewel.’

  I peer closely at her fingers, holding my hand out for whatever it is she has found. She drops it into my outstretched hand – a small misshapen pearl, its creamy sheen masked with smudges of dirt. ‘Where did you find this?’

  ‘Over there.’ She points towards the edge of the woods, where shadow branches reach their bony fingers across the lawn.

  Strange. I roll the gem between my finger and thumb, fancying I can feel the heat of it against my skin. This isn’t the first one found in the house. I think back to the day we got the keys, Mina seeming so much smaller than she is now, the baby a solid five-month bump in my belly.

  Rav swings the keys from one finger before inserting it into the lock and pushing the oak door open, the hinges creaking from lack of use. The air in the hallway is damp and musty and I cough as dust hits the back of my throat. Leaving damp footprints on the brick-red tiles from the rain outside, I follow Rav into the kitchen where he fiddles with the dials on the ancient boiler in an attempt to bring some heat into the house. There is the sound of a gas flame igniting and Rav lets out a whoop.

  ‘Come on, let’s explore our new place.’ Rav’s giddiness is infectious as he pulls me towards the staircase, and I am glad we have left Mina with Avó. Ascending the stairs, I try not to grimace as I notice the swathes of dark cobwebs that hang from the ceiling.

  ‘It’s like a haunted mansion in here,’ I say, cringing at the thought of having to deal with them. ‘You’re going to have to sweep those down; I wasn’t expecting to be five months pregnant when we moved in.’ We had taken the test a week after having our offer accepted on the house, and I had had to break both bits of news to Naomi in one go, that we were leaving, and that we were having another baby.

  ‘It’s just a bit of dirt,’ Rav says. ‘It’s all structurally sound.’ He bangs a fist against the wall, coughing as a white shower of plaster dust bursts from the wall.

  ‘Let’s have a look at the bathroom,’ I say, ‘see if it’s as bad as I remember.’ I push open the door, watching Rav’s reflection in the dark spotted mirror ahead of me. A brief flicker of doubt brushes over his features before he rearranges his face into an enthusiastic smile.

  ‘This bathroom is going to be amazing,’ he says, running his hand over the lip of the claw-footed bathtub before surreptitiously wiping it on his jeans. I take in the mould-spotted walls, the rust that stains the bottom of the tub, the black ring that sits in the toilet bowl.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I promise.’ Rav wraps me in his arms and I lean contentedly against him as the baby swoops and swirls in my stomach. ‘I’ll clean up that tub, re-enamel it if we have to, and that mould will scrub right off. In fact, I’ll do that tonight, before you and Mina sleep your first night here.’

  ‘So, we haven’t made a huge mistake?’ I grin into his chest, knowing that despite the mould, the cold air that doesn’t seem to be warming up despite Rav lighting the boiler, and the huge cobwebs, Rav is exactly where he needs to be.

  ‘Absolutely not.’ He kisses the top of my head and releases me, heading into the bedroom that will be Mina’s. I wait for a moment, smiling into the stained mirror until the electric bulb overhead flickers, making me jump.

  ‘Just dodgy old electrics,’ I laugh under my breath, one hand pressed to my chest. I turn to leave, to follow Rav into Mina’s room when I spot it, a glint of light reflecting back from the cream shell. A pearl. A single pearl, lying just to one side of the bathtub, as if spilled from a broken necklace. I stop to pick it up, feeling my back give a twinge, and hold it up to the bare bulb. It’s real, I can tell by the way its shape is imperfect, an almost round circle of off-white. I squeeze it between my fingers, wondering briefly where it came from before I tuck it into the pocket of my jeans. Maybe it’ll bring us luck.

  I think of that other pearl now, as I wrap my fingers around this new one. It has to be a new one, the original pearl is tucked into the jewellery box my mother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. How strange. A vision pops into my head of a woman, dressed in dark clothing, pearls hidden against her skin, standing in the doorway to the cottage. It’s so real, my eyes flick towards the doorway, but it’s empty. Of course it is. Ridiculous. The sun dips behind a cloud, blocking the warm rays and making the bare skin on my forearms prickle. Shaking my head, I close my fist over the pearl, and just as I did with the first one, I tuck it into my pocket.

  ‘Daddy!’ Mina shouts, and I look up to see Rav striding across the lawn, his arms open for her to jump into. He scoops her up and brings her over to where I sit, leaning down to kiss me. He smells like sweat and the train, and I think for a moment as his mouth leaves mine, maybe a little like alcohol.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit later than I planned. Aren’t you getting cold out here?’

  I hadn’t realized that the sun has started to disappear behind the trees, the shadows from the branches long and stretched across the lawn. I scoop up the baby, his tiny hands cold after lying in the shade and pull him close to warm him up. Terrible mother. The words flash neon in my mind and I blink for a moment, feeling a little unsteady on my feet.

  ‘Allie? Are you all right?’ Rav’s hand is warm on my arm.

  ‘Yes. Sorry, just got up a bit quick.’

  ‘Let’s get you lot inside. I’ll give Mina her bath, shall I?’

  I follow Rav into the house, eager to get out of the chill of the shade cast by the trees. How did I not realize the sun had gone down? What if the baby gets a cold? Pneumonia? A knot of anxiety builds in my chest as I picture him still and blue, his breath rasping in his chest, and I have to force it down, smiling at Rav as he climbs the stairs with Mina. A few moments later I hear the creak of the old bathroom tap and water starts to thunder into the chipped enamel bath.

  The baby fusses and I lay him in his Moses basket, tucking him in tightly even though he has warmed up now, making small shushing noises in the hopes that he will fall back to sleep, just for a few moments so I can make Mina some dinner. His eyes grow heavy, and I lay my hand gently on his tiny chest, about to creep away when I hear it. A scratching noise. Cocking my head on one side I strain my ears, trying to figure out where it is coming from, but there is only silence. Maybe I imagined it? I take a small backwards step away from the baby, ready to turn towards the kitchen when I hear it again, a faint scratch scratch scratch like a pencil on a board. The baby’s eyes fly open and I think, no, I didn’t imagine it. The baby heard it too. My legs feel wobbly as I step back towards the Moses basket, holding my breath. Scratch, scratch, scratch. It’s coming from the chimney. Without waiting to hear if the noise comes again, I scoop up the baby and hurry up the stairs to Rav.

  Chapter Six<
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  ‘And how are you sleeping?’ The health visitor at the baby clinic doesn’t look at me as she speaks, concentrating on laying the baby gently into the large weighing scale on the table in front of her.

  ‘Fine,’ I say, as a yawn pulls at the back of my throat. The baby pumps his fist as the health visitor logs his weight and then tells me I can pick him up.

  ‘Lovely healthy boy,’ she says, finally looking at me with a grin. ‘You didn’t need to bring him in just yet though. Has your midwife discharged you?’

  I know I didn’t have to bring him in, and part of me didn’t want to; the thought of the doctor’s waiting room filled with sick and vulnerable people breathing all over my baby was not appealing, but I needed some fresh air. I heard the scratching again last night, after the baby had fed at three o’clock, the sound even more eerie in the thick darkness, and this morning, once Rav had left the house. ‘Yes, she’s passed us over to the health visitor,’ I say as breezily as I can, the jollity sounding forced to my ears. ‘She was happy with everything … she said it was all fine.’

  ‘I’m sure she did.’ The health visitor pushes her glasses back on the top of her head and rubs her hand over the baby’s soft, downy hair. ‘He’s lovely. No concerns from me at all. But how are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m fine. Busy. We’ve not long moved into our house, so I’ve been trying to get on top of that, but Mina is at nursery now so that helps.’ I quickly dress the baby in a fresh nappy. ‘Tired, obviously. But apart from that I’m good.’

  ‘Try not to overdo it,’ the health visitor says, scribbling in the baby’s red record book and handing it back to me with a smile.

  ‘Of course not,’ I say forcing a matching smile onto my own face. I move over to the other table and start tucking the baby back into his sleepsuit, as the health visitor moves on to the next tired, weary mum. As I lay the baby back into the pram, tucking a blanket over him despite the sunshine outside, a sound rips through the air that makes me freeze in my tracks. A scratch that makes my blood run cold. I hang over the pram, as if making sure the baby is comfortable, inhaling deeply before I muster the courage to turn around, to see where the noise is coming from.

  It’s a zipper. I exhale, feeling sweat start to prickle under my arms, a hysterical bubble of laughter growing in my throat. It’s the zipper on a huge green changing bag, the woman bent over it rummaging for something. As she straightens up, I realize it is Karen, the other woman from the preschool.

  ‘Gosh, sorry,’ she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. This bloody zip sounds like a plane taking off. You’re Mina’s mum, aren’t you? Tara said you might be joining us at the baby group on Friday?’

  ‘Yes. I hope I’ll be able to make it,’ I say non-committally, relief making me feel oddly shaky. I pick up my own changing bag and drape it across the handles of the pram. My feet take an involuntary step towards the door. ‘Maybe, I’ll have to see how …’ I gesture vaguely towards the baby and rush towards the automatic doors of the doctor’s surgery, keen to be outside. Once out on the pavement, I gulp in great, deep breaths of hot, stale air, thick with the scent of the fresh tarmac they are laying across the street before I start to laugh. Idiot. Fancy jumping at the sound of a zipper.

  Naomi brings over a gypsy tart and a packet of my favourite posh teabags later in the afternoon and I am pleased to see her, grateful to her for making time to visit. She moves into the kitchen, switching on the kettle and slicing two big sections of tart for the both of us as if it’s she who lives here, not me. An image rises in my mind of a cuckoo, thrusting its way into a nest, before I blink and it is gone, and there is only Naomi, wiping her hands on a tea towel before she places a mug of tea and a plate in front of me. There’s something comforting about it – maternal almost – and pity makes the gypsy tart taste stale in my mouth. Naomi would have made a wonderful mother.

  ‘So, tell me again what you saw?’ The baby wails as Naomi settles in the chair across from me, not bothering to avert her gaze as I unsnap my top and place the baby at my breast. The wailing stops abruptly and I feel my shoulders lower, tension leaving my body.

  ‘I didn’t see anything really. Nothing concrete.’ I feel silly, Rav’s reaction making me half convinced that there wasn’t anything out there other than a seagull or something equally as benign. ‘Something white. That’s all. I thought it looked like a person, rushing through the trees, but Rav says that’s ridiculous. And I suppose it is. I mean, in the months we’ve lived here I’ve never seen anyone in those woods.’

  Naomi takes a bite of her tart, chewing slowly and I get the impression she is mulling over my words before she speaks. ‘Well,’ she says eventually, ‘Rav does have a point. You haven’t seen a single person in those woods since you got here. But then, it’s not really been the weather for outings in the woods ’til now, has it? I mean, winter was so horrifically wet, and there was all the flooding, and it’s only really been the last few weeks that things have dried out enough for anyone to want to walk in the woods.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Look, Al, even if there was someone in the woods – which there might have been, it’s possible – it doesn’t mean anything. You guys knew when you bought the house that potentially you would have ramblers and dog walkers crossing the bottom of your garden.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I guess I just thought because there hadn’t been anyone, that there wouldn’t be anyone.’

  ‘It’s natural for you to freak out a little bit. I mean, you’re at home on your own with a tiny baby, with no neighbours close by …’ Naomi breaks off, hastily grasping at her mug and taking a swallow of tea, as if she realizes that perhaps she isn’t helping. ‘But honestly, Al? I think Rav is right. It’s nothing for you to worry about.’

  I nod as if in agreement, but I don’t mention the fact that I was sure the figure was standing watching me, before turning and rushing through the trees as soon as whoever it was realized that I had noticed them. ‘It just felt a bit weird, that’s all. Almost like it was moving too quickly.’ Scuttling. The word pings into my mind and I stuff another bite of tart into my mouth.

  ‘Maybe it was The Colonel or the Pluckley Witch.’ She rolls her eyes and waggles her fingers at me, making a ‘woooo’ sound, falling silent when I don’t laugh. ‘You know the stories, Al: the Colonel who hung himself from a tree and still wanders the village at night, the white lady who haunts the church, the highwayman who died in a sword fight at Fright’s Corner and re-enacts it – the village is full of them. It’s all a load of rubbish. I’m sure if The Colonel really did hang himself in the woods, he hasn’t stuck around to terrorize the people of Pluckley.’

  ‘I thought I heard scratching, coming from the chimney,’ I say with a forced laugh, trying not to let my apprehension show as Naomi places her mug back down and eyes me carefully.

  ‘Scratching?’

  The baby unlatches with a pop and an audible sigh, and I hand him to Naomi while I sort out my top. ‘Like a scratching noise coming from the chimney. As if something is up there.’ Something insistent, is the word that comes to mind when I think of the repetitive scritching sound. ‘I know it’s probably nothing, but it shook me a little, coming so soon after I saw something in the trees.’

  ‘It’s probably a bird.’ Naomi leans down and sniffs the baby’s head. ‘God, Allie, he smells so lovely. I don’t know how you’re not sniffing him all day long.’

  I do laugh at this, and I feel another pang of loss and longing for Naomi, wishing more than anything that she and Jason could have conceived. Wishing that she could be sitting opposite me now bouncing her own baby on her knee before going home to her husband, instead of back to her tiny, cramped flat with a ready meal for one.

  ‘Sorry.’ She smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness as she traces one finger over the baby’s soft, milky cheek. ‘It probably was just a bird. We had a fireplace when I was a kid, and my dad was forever having to shove things up or d
own the chimney to get rid of the birds that fell down it. Your pot on the top might be damaged and that’s how it got in.’

  ‘Of course.’ Relief is swift and welcome. I think of the movement in the air when I was in the attic. ‘It must be a bird – I think there might be one trapped in the attic; I thought I heard it when I was up there getting the mirror.’ I did see something in the trees, but the more I talk about it, the more I am sure I am just trying to convince myself that it wasn’t a person.

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Naomi says. ‘It doesn’t help that there’s a full moon tonight. Flower Moon, believe it or not. How appropriate for us. That’s probably got your emotions all over the place as well.’

  ‘Flower Moon?’

  ‘That’s what the May full moon is called … you didn’t know?’

  I had no idea that full moons had names. Blue moon, yes, I had heard of that but not any other. ‘No, I had no idea. It is very apt for us.’ Thinking of the florist, the scent of the flowers, the moist air that keeps the plants damp and makes my hair frizz, I feel a twist in my stomach. ‘How on earth do you know this stuff, Naomi?’

  She shrugs. ‘I store shit information that is rarely, if ever, needed, but I can’t remember what I went to the shops for. Maybe I should go on a gameshow or something, try and make use of it.’

  ‘Remember that dreadful pub quiz we did, at that holiday park in Devon?’ I say, a bubble of laughter tickling the back of my throat. ‘I’ll never forget your face when that guy accused you of cheating.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten that. It wasn’t my fault his quiz was absolutely shit. Mind you, the Robbie Williams tribute act that night was worse.’ Naomi laughs, and the baby jolts in her arms, his face crumpling.