The Paradise Trees

by Linda Huber

  For a split second she saw herself, a young child, huddled on exactly this bed and crying out in pain.

  And there was blood on the sheets.

  There was blood on the sheets. Red blood on white sheets.

  The picture in her mind vanished almost as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving her nauseated and more frightened than ever before.

  The Stranger

  He glanced at his watch and nodded in satisfaction. So far, so good. Fortunately the old man hadn’t been found yet. Which probably meant he had landed in the river. One thing he hadn’t anticipated was that both Helens would stay at the house, he’d thought that big Helen at least would go out searching. But that really didn’t matter, the important thing was to keep a close eye on proceedings so that he was ready with his offer of help the minute it was needed. He would be left holding the baby, so to speak, and it wouldn’t be his fault when the baby ran off in the woods, would it?

  The woods. He thought for a moment, feeling a tight pain start in the middle of his head. His lovely plan had a flaw he hadn’t considered until now.

  There were dozens of searchers out there in his woods. The thought was unbearable: strangers in little Helen’s palace. It was so stupid, too – an old man who wasn’t great on his feet wouldn’t go uphill into the woods, no, he would go downhill to the river, just as old Bob had done. With a little help.

  But now there would be intruders beneath the trees. All those do-gooder feet would be trampling around, stamping out the holiness of the place. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the sweat on his forehead. Every bone in his body was telling him to get up there and see for himself what was going on. His woods, the special place, what was happening to it?

  And the new Helens, what were they doing now? Were they thinking of him at all? It was so difficult, not being able to watch their every move. He took a deep, shaky breath. It would be alright. Big Helen liked him, he felt that clearly. She would let him help today. When the old man was found, big Helen would be so happy, so glad to have her father back – they would take him to St. Joe’s, of course, and she would stay by his bedside like a dutiful daughter should and then – then he would have his time with little Helen. Just the two of them. Very soon now. Yes.

  Alicia

  There was nothing to do except wait. Alicia paced between the kitchen with its view up the wooded hillside, and the living room where she could see out to the lane. The searchers had vanished and to all intents and purposes this was a normal Sunday morning. Nothing happening in Lower Banford, same as every week.

  What on earth was she going to tell Margaret? She would have to phone soon no matter what happened, but it would be so much better if she could say ‘He wandered off outside earlier but he’s tucked up in bed now... ’ Shit, all this concern over a parent that she despised and who certainly didn’t love her. She wasn’t even sure if he knew who she was any more. Then she thought of the times his eyes had fixed on hers, the way he had laughed his wheezy laugh. He did know. He knew, and he’d been mocking her. Maybe he even knew what had gone on between them in her childhood. What a terrible old man he was, really. A parent to forget.

  But now she was the parent figure and she was supposed to have been looking after him. Coming back here to do exactly that had been ‘the right thing’; such were the ties of duty, the ties of the past. Did they prosecute people for not taking proper care of their invalid parents? But then it wasn’t as if he was wheelchair bound, he could walk... He might simply be lost up in the woods, oh, please God he was just wandering about among the trees and not lying hurt somewhere, not fallen in the river. How strange it was to feel such strong disgust for someone, and yet worry frantically if they were okay.

  The phone rang, and she sprinted into the hallway, almost shouting into the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, it’s me, Doug. Is there any news yet?’

  ‘Oh, Doug. No, nothing. I just don’t understand how he could vanish off the face of the earth like this. The search parties have been gone nearly an hour now, they’re down at the river and in the woods as well as the village and... ’ A lump rose in her throat and her voice wobbled. His words were warm in her ear.

  ‘Alicia, with all those searchers they’ll find him, sooner rather than later I should think. And it’s mild today, he won’t get cold if he’s wandering around. There’ll be a bed for him in St. Joe’s if he needs it, that wouldn’t be a problem.’

  Tears came to her eyes. She was surrounded by such kind people, everyone was being so helpful. Look at all those strangers, giving up their Sunday to search for her father. A deep breath steadied her voice.

  ‘I just want him found safe,’ she whispered. ‘This is all my fault.’

  ‘No, no, accidents happen. I’ll be in touch later. Try not to worry more than you have to, I’m sure everything will be fine.’

  She replaced the receiver and sank down on the sofa thinking about the conversation she just had. ‘Try not to worry’ was said quickly, how could she not worry? Supposing he was in the river? Would everyone still be so supportive if her neglect had killed him? Maybe she would go to prison, Jen could end up in Singapore with her father and new mother after all. She took another deep breath.

  Jenny came in with both hands clasped round a mug, full to the brim with weak tea.

  ‘I made you a hot drink, Mummy. Who was on the phone? Have they found Grandpa yet?’

  Her voice was apprehensive, and Alicia forced herself to sound calm. There was no point in upsetting Jen even more. In fact helping her daughter was the only positive thing she could do at the moment apart from filling hot bottles. She smiled her thanks and sipped at the lukewarm milky tea. How lovely Jenny was to have made it.

  ‘No, sweetie, not yet. It was Mr Patton from the care home.’

  Jenny perched on the arm of her grandfather’s chair. ‘Will Grandpa be going into hospital?’

  Alicia swallowed painfully. ‘I don’t know, Jen. Don’t worry, sweetie. They’re bound to find him soon.’

  She forced the tea down and went upstairs to refill her father’s hot water bottle. His pyjamas were still on the chair where she’d dropped them earlier, so she took out clean ones, fresh blue cotton, ironed, even, because Margaret ironed everything, and draped them over the bed.

  Maybe he would have to go into hospital. If he’d fallen in the woods and broken his hip... The whole problem could be taken out of her hands, and how ironic was that, because all she really wanted right this minute was to have him back here in his own bed. But that was the guilt speaking. Could she have subconsciously neglected her father because deep inside she knew he had harmed her in some way, here in ‘the bad room’? Why had there been blood on the sheets? If only she could remember.

  It was impossible to sit still. Alicia strode to the bottom of the garden where the woods began. There was neither sight nor sound of the search party and the stillness was almost eerie. Clear summer sunshine danced between green leaves, some descending far enough to touch the mossy ground under her feet, more remaining caught in the tree tops. This was a beautiful place, normally, a tranquil place, full of peace and serenity. No wonder Jenny loved it.

  What if her father was dead? Would she grieve? Not for him, no, but she would grieve for the past, for the relationship that had gone so horribly wrong. But that had been his fault. And she would have to organise a funeral, sit in the church and listen as an unknown cleric talked about her father, making him sound like a lovely old guy whose family were in bits about his death. Well, Margaret would be, but there was nobody else who would mourn old Bob Logan. But if he was dead she would live the rest of her life knowing that his death had been her fault. Her stomach churned.

  A bird crying from a tall tree broke her train of thought, and her shoulders slumped dismally before far-off voices had her spinning round and racing back towards the house.

  ‘Mrs Bryson! He’s found!’

  The voices came from the front of the house, and Alicia ran. The ri
verbank searchers were coming down the lane; a stretcher at the front of the group was held by Derek, the charge nurse, and Mr Donovan. Her father was lying quite still, on top. He must be alright, they were all laughing and talking. Relief flooded through Alicia. He was alive. Frank and the police sergeant flanked the stretcher, and the whole procession halted when she reached them. How small and pathetic her father looked lying there, but he was breathing and his face was warm. The nurse in Alicia reached out and felt for a pulse. It was fast, but steady. Lying here like this, eyes closed, somehow her father looked intelligent, as if he would wake up any moment and speak to them. But of course he wouldn’t, she knew he would never speak to her again.

  ‘He’s exhausted but otherwise fine,’ said Frank.

  Alicia’s teeth started to chatter. She hadn’t killed him, there wouldn’t be a funeral. She really could phone Margaret and say that he was tucked up in bed at home. The intensity of her relief surprised her. She nodded at Frank.

  ‘He was in the empty house further up the lane,’ he went on. ‘The garden has a gate that opens onto the river pathway, we think he must have gone in that way, and then found the back door unlocked. We only looked into the garden on our way down, but then on the way back Kenneth Taylor saw him standing at one of the upstairs windows. He probably couldn’t find his way out again but that’s just as well under the circumstances.’

  The stretcher-bearers manoeuvred up the stairs and deposited her father on his bed where he lay still. Alicia dropped down on the wooden chair by the bed. It was over. She managed to smile at Frank.

  ‘I’m glad it wasn’t the river,’ she said, and he nodded, glancing at Jenny.

  ‘Jenny, why don’t you wait downstairs while your Mum and I give Grandpa a quick check over?’

  Jenny gazed beseechingly at Alicia. ‘Can we go up to the woods, me and Conker?’

  Alicia found her voice. ‘Oh, I suppose so. Just for a little while. Take your cardie, it’s clouding over.’

  She rubbed her face with a cold hand, watching as Frank examined her father. The back door slammed behind Jenny, and Frank glanced up, grinning.

  ‘Kids recover quickly,’ he said. ‘It’s the grown-ups that are left weeping and wobbly.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Alicia. ‘How is he?’

  ‘His vital signs are fine, but of course we can’t know exactly what happened to him,’ said Frank, placing his stethoscope in his black bag. ‘Alicia, you should take him to St. Joe’s. The ambulance is still waiting in the lane. I’m off duty today, but John Hammond would meet you there and admit him officially.’

  Alicia was silent. It could be that easy. Take her father to St. Joe’s now, and the deed was done. But if it happened like that she would always feel the guilt.

  ‘Frank – unless you think it’s absolutely necessary I would prefer to keep him here until I can talk to Margaret again,’ she said, hearing the tears in her own voice.

  He gazed at her for a moment, his face blank, and then nodded slowly. ‘We can do that, if you’re sure it’s what you want. I’ll come back and check him again later,’ he said, leading the way downstairs. ‘You should have a lie down for an hour or so too, you look knackered. You’ve had a shock.’

  Alicia hesitated. Lying down was the last thing she felt like, and her ‘shock’ wasn’t at all what he thought it was. She should tell him what was going on here. Maybe he would be able to help her with the child’s voice in her head and the new, disturbing ‘memories’.

  ‘Frank, could we have a chat? There’s something I’d like to run by you.’

  He was already heading for the front door, but he turned and stared for a moment before following her into the kitchen. ‘Of course. Come on, the doctor is ordering a nice cup of tea.’

  The Stranger

  How could it all have gone so wrong? But then he couldn’t possibly have foreseen that the old man would end up in an empty house. So old Bob was safe and sound at home, not in St. Joe’s, not in the river and definitely not dead. They were all playing Happy Families and there was nothing to say that big Helen would send him to St. Joe’s today.

  He really needed to get back up to the woods and see what had been going on there. Had the special place been harmed during the search? Oh God, his trees, his magical place, it mustn’t be spoiled. He should have considered that they would search the woods for an old man gone walkabout. Worry gnawed away at his soul in much the same way it had after Mummy died. That had been a terrible time too.

  She had died at his hands, like Snugglepuss, but of course he couldn’t throw Mummy into the river. And a person was a lot more serious than a cat, he’d known as soon as he’d done it that the police would be involved. Would they notice that he’d held her nose and mouth shut? Had he left bruises, fingermarks on Mummy’s skin?

  The next two days had been hell, he’d expected that at any moment a policeman would come knocking at the door and arrest him for murder. But apparently no-one had noticed anything. The cause of death was given as multiple fractures and a head injury. There hadn’t even been a post-mortem because fortunately stupid Dad had said she wouldn’t have wanted that. They must have thought the cause of death was obvious, and so thankfully, everything had worked out well. He and his sister had been sent to live with Mummy’s aunt so he didn’t even have to see much of his stupid father after that.

  And now he had little Helen to plan for. His mood lifted when he thought about her, sweet child, what was she playing now that her grandfather had been found safe? Oh God, please, maybe the plan could still be saved. Big Helen would be busy with the old man for the rest of the afternoon, this was actually the ideal time to take little Helen... it might not even matter that big Helen was at home and not St. Joe’s.

  The problem was that he was uptight now, he was nervous, he wouldn’t enjoy playing with little Helen feeling like this.

  He would go to the woods anyway, just as soon as he could he would go up to the special place... if he was lucky, little Helen would be there.

  Alicia

  The phone rang while she was waiting for the kettle to boil.

  ‘Alicia, how’s your father now?’

  ‘Doug, I was going to call you. He seems okay, Frank’s just examined him and he’s going to come back tonight too. Then we’ll decide about St. Joe’s, but I’m hoping to wait up with that until Margaret gets home.’

  His voice was comforting as usual. ‘I’m sure your aunt will appreciate what you’re doing. Is Frank still there, then?’

  Alicia glanced into the kitchen, where Frank was scribbling in a folder at the table, oblivious to everything else.

  ‘He’s writing up his notes. Thanks again, Doug, for your support.’

  ‘Wish I could do more. I’ll be in touch.’

  Alicia filled the teapot with hands that had almost stopped trembling. It was a relief to be doing something as normal as making tea, and the fact that Doug had called again was a good feeling. He definitely cared. And so did Frank. She placed a mug in front of him.

  ‘Great, thanks,’ he said, sipping. ‘Alicia, I know it’s like hitting a man while he’s down, but you know yourself that once dementia patients start to wander they tend to keep it up, and it’s incredibly difficult then to keep them safe. And while I’m not expecting anything terrible to happen to your father health-wise after his escapade today, the bottom line is we just don’t know how he’s going to react, and the care and facilities in St. Joe’s are better than anything we can offer him here at home.’

  Alicia warmed her hands on her mug. How wonderful it would be not to have to take care of her father any more.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I do want to talk to Margaret before making the final decision. I’ll phone her when I’ve had my tea.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Gather my arguments first.’

  Frank nodded, looking across at her with an expectant look on his face. Alicia bit her lip. Now for the big confession.

  ‘I... I don’t love him,’ she blurted out. �
��You were gone by then but I left home the minute I was sixteen, I couldn’t take any more, he was so... restrictive and so... so mean with it too, it was as if he hated me for trying to be a normal teenager. He... I don’t know what he did, Frank, ever since I’ve been here I’ve had this child’s voice in my head talking about ‘the bad room’ upstairs and crying and it’s scaring me. And today I remembered lying there on his bed and there was blood on the sheets and I don’t know where it came from.’

  She caught her breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Why had these thoughts and memories never come to her before? And why hadn’t she seen his cruelty to her teenage self later on for what it was... abuse? In those days she hadn’t been too young to tell someone.

  He stared for a second, then stretched out a hand and squeezed her arm on the table. ‘Okay, let’s talk about this,’ he said quietly. ‘You said he was mean when you were a teenager, I guess his religion wouldn’t let you do a lot of things and you rebelled, right?’

  She looked at him and he patted her arm again before leaning back and sipping his tea.

  ‘Okay. I can understand there could still be some unfinished business there. Now tell me about the child’s voice and the blood on the sheets.’

  Slowly, Alicia explained about the frightened little voice and the nausea, and the sudden, horrifyingly vivid picture of a child crying on a blood-covered bed.

  He frowned. ‘That sounds like a flashback. You know, the sudden memory of a traumatic experience that’s been suppressed.’

  Alicia fought back hot tears. ‘Oh God. What do you think happened to me?’ she whispered.

  He shook his head. ‘There’s no way to tell at the moment. It might not even be a flashback of a real event, it could be a dream you had once, or something scary you saw on TV and couldn’t handle at the time. You’re afraid that you suffered some kind of abuse at his hands, aren’t you?’