The Woman in the Woods

by Lisa Hall

  ‘Oh yum, I love dosa. Don’t complain, Al, I’d love it if I had a mother-in-law like Avó.’ She flashes a smile at Rav.

  ‘Why don’t you two go through into the living room.’ Rav shoots me a look and gets to his feet. ‘I’ll clear up and bring you some tea.’ He starts stacking the plates together, waving Naomi away as she tries to help. I push my chair back and walk into the living room, choosing the same seat on the sofa where I always sit. I didn’t mention it, but Naomi had sat in my usual seat at the dinner table, directly across from Rav. Rav hadn’t mentioned it either.

  ‘Lovely dinner.’ Naomi plonks herself down on the sofa next to me. ‘You’re so lucky Rav can cook. Jason was totally useless. You’re lucky to have Rav, full stop.’ Her face clouds over, and she picks at the tasselled edges of her cardigan. ‘I really am sorry about this morning, Al. I wouldn’t have gone over to get Mina if I had known you’d be upset.’

  ‘I was upset, I wasn’t expecting you to be there,’ I say, but I am already thinking about Tara, how Naomi knows her. ‘It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all, especially in light of the things I’ve told you lately.’

  ‘The house. Rav told me that you found something in the chimney.’

  ‘Did he.’ The statement comes out flat, and a flicker of rage bursts into flame low down in my belly. ‘You two must have been having quite the cosy chat while I was out.’

  ‘Not really.’ Naomi looks down, starts to pick at the perfect polish on her nails. ‘He’s worried about you. We both are, to be honest.’

  ‘I told you everything is fine. I am fine. More importantly, the children are fine. What is it you want, Naomi?’ Something chimes in the back of my mind and I think maybe I know what she wants. She’s the one who put the idea in Rav’s head that the children are not safe with me. Does she think they would be safer with her? Is that it?

  ‘What I want? I don’t …’ She blinks and gives a slight shake of her head. ‘What do you …? Allie, I don’t want anything.’

  ‘I know you’re friends with Tara Newman – is she the one who made you think like this? Is she the one who made you think I can’t cope?’

  ‘Allie, I don’t understand what you mean.’ Naomi is on her feet now, her keys in her hand. ‘I don’t want anything. You’re my friend, you’re important to me, and I want to help you.’ She reaches out a hand but doesn’t touch me. ‘It’s hard work looking after little kids all day, I thought you might want a break. Give you a bit of adult conversation when you’re on your own at home all day. It’s not as if I have anything at home to rush back to, is it? I might as well help you out where I can.’ Her voice thickens and she looks down at the keys in her hand, running the keychain through her fingers.

  ‘I told you before, I’m fine, I don’t need any help.’

  ‘I think I should probably go,’ Naomi says. I don’t follow her into the hallway, instead my gaze is fixated on the set of keys in her hand. ‘We can talk tomorrow.’ Something crosses her face, something I can’t quite read.

  ‘Naomi?’ Rav appears, two cups of tea in his hands.

  ‘Naomi’s going now,’ I say, taking the two cups from him. ‘Thanks for coming over, but everything is perfectly all right.’

  Rav looks from me to Naomi and back again. ‘I’ll see you out,’ he says, his hand on the small of Naomi’s back as he walks her to the door. She doesn’t leave immediately and peering around the doorframe I see Rav’s head lowering to hers as he says something to her. Her eyes flit towards me and she bites on her lower lip before nodding, her hand lingering for just a moment too long on his shoulder. I feel sick at the intimate gesture, closing my eyes against the image as I hear her say goodbye. Rav closes the door and then leans against it, his back against the old, solid oak and he sighs.

  ‘What’s going on, Al?’

  Maybe I should ask Rav the same thing. ‘Nothing. Nothing is going on.’ I go back into the sitting room, taking care not to stomp my anger and fear out across the floorboards. I need to keep calm. As I lower myself back against the sofa cushions, a single scratch comes from the chimney and my breath catches for a moment in my throat.

  ‘I’m worried about you.’ Rav comes and sits next to me, pulling me against him. I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling my whole body unstiffen, even though I am still furious with him for what he said to Naomi. ‘So is Avó. Naomi is too. You’re not yourself.’

  ‘I told you, Rav, I’m tired. I told you that things were worrying me, and you just laughed it off.’

  ‘Is this about the bones? And the stuff in the chimney?’

  I nod, but don’t speak, not trusting my voice. ‘I’m not mad, Rav. I know what I saw, whether you believe me or not.’

  ‘Al, this place is old, really old. There are going to be some stories about it but honestly, there isn’t anything for you to worry about. You don’t believe in all that stuff, do you? We laughed about it before.’ He kisses the top of my head and there is silence for a minute. I say nothing, the article about Lillian Sparks still fresh in my mind, Elsie’s adamance that the charm needed to be replaced. That’s not just a story.

  ‘Al, would you think about maybe seeing the doctor? Just for some peace of mind?’

  ‘The doctor?’ I pull away, twisting my face up towards his. ‘Rav, I’m fine. I promise. I don’t need to see a doctor.’

  ‘It couldn’t hurt though, could it?’ Rav says, pulling away from me now, sitting forward on the edge of the sofa. ‘I mean, you say you’re fine, that there’s nothing wrong. If that’s the case, the doctor can confirm it.’

  I sigh. I don’t need a doctor, I know I don’t. But if it means that Rav will start listening to me when I say things aren’t right, maybe I can suffer a quick ten-minute appointment. ‘OK,’ I say reluctantly, ‘I’ll make an appointment. For you though, I’m doing it for you. I know I don’t need to see him.’

  ‘Really?’ He turns to face me and for a minute he looks like the old Rav, the Rav I met on the beach. ‘And no more talk about witches or anything?’

  ‘Nope,’ I say, lies bitter on my tongue. I wonder if Rav and Naomi get that same bitter flavour when they lie to me. I saw Naomi’s keyring when she got her keys out of her bag. The keyring with a silver pentacle dangling from it, even though she says she doesn’t believe in all that stuff. The pentacle, that according to my book represents all the necessary elements required for witchcraft – earth, air, water, fire and spirit. If Naomi thinks witchcraft is all a load of nonsense, then why is she carrying a pentacle around with her? I saw the way their heads angled together at the door, heard the way they spoke about me when I wasn’t in the room. I know there is something going on and it’s all connected somehow to the vision – the memory – I keep having. I just have to figure out how.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sensation of someone sitting on the edge of the bed wakes me, a similar sensation to before, only this time something is different. This time I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling, my scalp tingling as if someone is stroking a hand over my hair. Once, twice, three times. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the sensation fades to be replaced by the pressure of a hand on my chest, making me feel breathless, although for the moment I am still calm. I wait, my breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as the pressure increases, as if someone is leaning over me, pressing down hard on my chest and the feeling of calm is replaced with panic, as I fight to catch my breath. I can’t breathe, I think, suddenly desperate to sit up, to heave in great gulps of air but my body doesn’t move. Distantly, there is the cry of a child, chilling and desperate, and I try to push myself up, to push back the covers and get to my feet but I can’t move my limbs, my hands and fingers are numb, as if I am frozen. My pulse soars, my heart crashing against my ribcage like a caged bird, and I open my mouth to gasp.

  ‘Please,’ I manage to whisper, closing my eyes against the dizziness that washes over me, Rav breathing heavily beside me. ‘Please.’ As quickly as it starts, the pressure eases and
there is a lightness on the mattress beside me, as if whoever it is has got up from the bed. I push myself on trembling arms into a sitting position, one hand resting against my chest as if I can still feel the pressure of that unseen hand. There is the scent of rosemary in the air, thick and heavy. The real thing, not a cheap, imitation manufactured smell and I look towards the window, expecting the curtains to sway softly in the breeze as the rosemary is carried in, but the window is closed, the curtains are still. The cries have faded, and the room is filled with a thick silence.

  I don’t sleep after that, feeding the baby and standing on the landing, looking out over the trees, waiting to hear the cries from the woods until an hour before Rav’s alarm is due to go off. I managed not to wake Rav up and was back in bed before he woke and caught me roaming the landing, and when his alarm does go off, I feign waking from a deep sleep. Rav has a big meeting apparently, so although he kisses the top of my head and asks me how I am feeling as he gets dressed, I get the distinct impression that he is already miles away before he has even left the house. Before, this might have upset or annoyed me a little, the way he has the ability to leave us while we are still in the same room as him, but today I feel relieved, as though the spotlight has been switched off.

  As I walk through the village towards the preschool my phone buzzes with a text, and when I check after dropping Mina off, I see it’s from Naomi, asking how I am. I pause, one hand on the handle of the pram, as I try to decide how to respond. She must have sent it as we walked past The Daisy Chain and my eyes go to the now open door, the buckets of flowers arranged outside. Ten minutes ago, when we walked past, the door was closed and the windows were dark, but she must have been inside.

  ‘All absolutely fine,’ I type back. ‘Sorry about last night. Was utterly shattered, I didn’t mean to be weird x’ The words are far breezier than I feel, and there is no sense of the weight of suspicion I am currently carrying. I wonder if she’ll report my reply back to Rav. Mere seconds after I send the text, my phone rings.

  ‘It’s me,’ Naomi says.

  ‘Hi. I did text you back.’

  ‘I know you did. Look, Al, I shouldn’t have texted, I should have rung you in the first place. Do you want to come to the shop for coffee? We can talk properly.’

  ‘I … can’t. I have to drop Mina off and then I have an appointment.’ I cross my fingers against the lie. I don’t want to see Naomi. I still feel odd, remembering the way they spoke about me, the way her hand rested on Rav’s shoulder. My mother’s words come back to me. Be careful who you trust.

  ‘I’ll just say it to you now, then,’ Naomi says. I hear a rush of air, as if she has just drawn in a deep breath. ‘Allie, I don’t know what is going on with you, but there is something that isn’t right. All I want to do is help you. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?’

  ‘Because I don’t need any help.’ My voice is sharp. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering around, poking your nose in all the time. I can manage on my own.’

  ‘But that’s just it, Allie, you’re not on your own. I don’t think you quite understand how Rav feels at the moment.’

  The image of her and Rav in the pub, her face breaking into a smile as she laughs, Rav leaning in close and putting his arms around her swims in front of my eyes. Rav talking with her in our kitchen, the pair of them discussing my mental state. Keep the children safe. ‘And you do understand how Rav feels, I suppose? You know what Rav is feeling? Rav and I are fine.’ The lie slices across the top of my tongue, a physical pain.

  ‘You’re pushing him away, just like you are with me.’ Naomi lets out a bitter laugh. ‘I don’t think you understand quite what you have there, Al. Rav is a good man, a perfect husband, you have two beautiful children, a lovely house. I know this whole thing about Agnes Gowdie has got you unsettled, and I would be too, especially finding what you have, but, Al, it’s all superstition, a story.’

  I don’t respond for a moment, biting my tongue against the sharp words that rise to my lips. ‘Naomi, a child died in my house. There is something in my house, I can feel it. I’ve tried to talk to you and Rav about it, but neither of you want to listen, you just make out that I’m mad. I’m going to get rid of the witch’s ladder, the bones, then everything will be fine.’

  ‘You’re getting obsessed with the house! We’re concerned about you. Rav is worried. We’re both worried that you’re not coping.’

  ‘I am coping fine. I haven’t asked you for help. If I did need help, I would have asked, so why don’t you back off? Or is it that you want me to be mad? Would that make things easier for you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Allie. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.’ Naomi lets out a long sigh. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t want to fall out with you, OK? If you want me to keep my distance, then I will.’

  I don’t know what I want. Exhaustion makes my head feel muddled and confused, and while I think Naomi is keeping things from me, there is that other part of me that still instinctively wants to go to her first. I want to tell her what happened last night as I slept, the feeling of the hand in my hair and on my chest, but I no longer know if I can trust her.

  ‘It’s not that,’ I say eventually. ‘There are things … I don’t want to talk about it, anymore, OK? Rav and I are fine. We always have been, and he would tell me if he was that concerned. There is nothing to worry about – I’ve told Rav I won’t look into the house anymore. Just believe me when I say I’m OK; that’s what a real friend would do.’ And I hang up.

  Sliding my phone back into the pocket of my skirt, I see Tara on the other side of the road, one hand raised to get my attention. She waits a moment at the crossing, then almost jogs over towards me and I wonder for a moment if she is going to ask me about the blanket she left at the house. I don’t know how I’ll respond if she does.

  ‘Hey.’ She is a little out of breath from the short jog. ‘I thought I must have missed you this morning. My turn to be late.’ She laughs, and I try to smile, her words a jab against my skin. I should have realized that the other mothers would have known that I wasn’t there to collect Mina yesterday. I feel my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment. ‘Are you coming for coffee this morning? I won’t be staying too long as Rufus is still a little under the weather and I promise I won’t let Miranda start talking about anything weird.’

  Right on cue, the baby starts to fuss in the pram, giving me the perfect out.

  ‘Sorry’ – I pull a face – ‘not this morning. I’ve been up all night with this one.’ Not strictly true – the baby slept for a glorious three-hour stretch, while I lay wide awake, unblinking, next to Rav, not wanting to sleep or to dream, imagining I could still feel the pressure of a hand on my chest.

  ‘You do look tired.’ Tara peers at me, and I get that feeling again of being under a spotlight. ‘OK, we can catch up next week. I have to pop across the road before I head to the café anyway.’ She glances over her shoulder, but I am not sure whether she is looking at The Daisy Chain or the small supermarket next to it. ‘See you at pick-up?’

  I nod, and say goodbye, moving off in the direction of my house before I allow myself a quick glance over my shoulder. Tara is bumping the travel system over the threshold to The Daisy Chain. I try not to read too much into it.

  Tired as I am, I don’t go straight home. The baby has settled again so I follow the path past the turning into the lane our house is on and carry on walking, round to the entrance to the woods that back onto the garden. Pausing as I come to the edge of the woods, I see that Tara is right about the trees. There isn’t really an entrance as such, just a place where the branches aren’t so tightly tangled together. There isn’t a path, although where the branches are thinner it does look as though someone has walked through, but not enough to be a proper, well-used path. It is overgrown this end, more overgrown than it is at the edge of the garden and I peer between the trees, looking for signs of life. It’s impossible for me to push the pram between
the branches, and I don’t think I’d want to take the baby inside anyway. That strange oozing malevolence that I felt from the witch’s ladder is present here too, stronger, if anything. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and I feel as if someone is watching me, eyes on my skin. There’s someone here. The voice is in my head not in my ear, but the breeze ruffles my hair and I shiver, my blood running cold as I hear another, familiar sound. A child crying. It is coming from deep inside the trees, louder than I have heard it before on the other side by the house. I wait a moment, my heart in my mouth when it comes again, the distinct sound of a child, lost and afraid and calling for her mother.

  Ducking under a low branch, I step just inside the trees, on to the crackly, brown forest floor, the child’s cries a siren call. Leaves crunch beneath my feet, decades of winter seasons lying dead on the ground as I dodge the sharp ends of branches that threaten to tangle in my hair, following the distant cries. Brambles claw at my legs as I take another step in, trying to follow the sound but the further in I go, the quieter the cries become until I can no longer hear them. I find I can see the house from here, can see how close someone would need to get before they could watch us. A bird calls from high up, a monotonous ringing shout and I take one more step deeper inside. I feel that tugging in my lower belly, the way the witch’s ladder called to me when Rav threw it out, the urge to go deeper into the shadowy, damp-smelling trees almost overwhelming.

  ‘Excuse me?’ A shrill voice reaches my ears and for a moment I almost laugh, thinking it’s coming from my house, that I am calling to myself, both the watcher and the watched. ‘Hello? Are you there?’

  Turning and peering back through the trees, I see there is a woman standing next to the baby in the pram, her hand on the handle, a worried face peering back at me. Shit. The baby. I forgot about the baby. Heart thundering in my chest, I run the few metres back towards the edge of the woods, branches snatching at my clothes and pulling at my hair.