The Paradise Trees (11 page)

Alicia

‘Bob!’

Panic rising inside her, Alicia raced back down to the kitchen and yanked the back door open. No-one. Quickly, she stepped up on the bench by the back door and glared down the garden, but again,
no-one in sight. And the driveway was equally deserted.

‘Jenny! Jen! Come quick!’ There was no point calling after her father, he wouldn’t answer even if he was there and he certainly wouldn’t come running to see what she
wanted.

Jenny, thankfully, was still nearby, and rushed back, hair flying.

‘Grandpa’s gone – have you seen him – where were you exactly?’

‘In the summerhouse. Grandpa’s gone? Where Mummy?’

‘I’ve no idea but we have to find him. Take Conker and go up the lane as far as Mrs Watson’s. Knock on everyone’s door on the way and ask if they’ve seen him, maybe
he’s in one of the gardens. I’ll drive round the village. He must have gone out when we weren’t watching him.’

And she hadn’t watched him a lot that morning. Guilt welled up inside Alicia. Looking for Moritz, airing the beds, making sandwiches - she hadn’t taken proper care of her father. But
then he’d never wandered away before.

Jenny dashed off and Alicia flung herself into the car. Oh God, where was he? How could she not have noticed him leave the house? She should have kept the doors locked, she of all people should
have realised something like this could happen... It was one thing wishing him gone, but quite another when he actually was gone and she was to blame.

The village was empty. Sunday morning peace and quiet reigned, the villagers were evidently either still in bed or enjoying leisurely Sunday breakfasts. Alicia drove up and down the main street,
peering up lanes and into gardens, realising that it was a hopeless task. She would have to go home and phone the police. Her father could be wandering round someone’s back garden and she
would never see him from the car. Her heart still thumping under her ribs, she pulled the car round.

Jenny and Conker were trotting back down the lane, the little girl’s hand clutching the dog’s thick collar. Alicia jerked the car to a halt.

‘Any luck?’

‘No, but Mr Watson and Mr and Mrs Campbell are out looking in all the gardens and Mr and Mrs Donovan have gone down to the river. Mummy, where is he?’

‘Darling, I don’t know. I’ll have to phone the police.’

Tears welled up in Jenny’s eyes and Alicia put one arm round her while she phoned, conscious that her voice as well as her hands were shaking. It was twenty minutes before the police
arrived, two uniformed officers from Upper Banford. By this time the village was beginning to gather that old Bob Logan was missing, and quite a search party was forming on the front driveway. The
police sergeant listened to Alicia’s explanation, and bent over a map of the area with his colleague.

Alicia looked at the people milling around in front of the house. How kind everyone was, coming to search like this. She didn’t even know most of them. Oh, she should phone Frank, he would
want to help too – and Doug Patton? – but he had said he usually worked weekends. She dialled Frank’s number.

‘I’m on my way,’ he said, when she explained, barely able to keep the tears back. This was all her fault. Where was he? The strokes hadn’t affected his leg function much
at all, a slight limp, a stumbling gait, that was all... he could be a long way away by this time.

The police were organising the villagers into groups to search the woods, the river pathway, and the village. Alicia stood cuddling Jenny by the front door, apprehension twisting her insides
into knots. Frank jogged up the driveway, his face concerned.

‘Doctor Carter, good,’ said the sergeant, sending the woods group round the back of the house. ‘You should go with the river group, if you don’t mind, in case... ahm. You
stay here and wait, Mrs Bryson. He might well come back on his own and then it’s best if you’re here for him just as usual.’

Alicia nodded. Her mouth was dry. Why was she feeling this way about a parent she didn’t even care about? Was it guilt that all these people were out searching just because
she
hadn’t looked after her father?

Frank put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed briefly. ‘Try not to worry, Alicia, we’ll find him.’

She watched as the river group left the front drive. Be here for him just as usual, the sergeant had said. But there was nothing usual about her being here. She winced. Was that why her father
had wandered off? To look for Margaret? And if he had gone down to the river... She knew his life would end one day soon, but dear God, not like this. If he died today it would all be down to her.
A dry sob rose in her throat, and Conker whined in sympathy beside her.

‘Come on, Mummy. Doctor Frank said it would be okay,’ said Jenny, pulling her arm. ‘Let’s get Grandpa’s bed ready for him.’

Now her eight-year-old daughter was taking charge. Alicia swallowed hard. ‘Thanks, love,’ she whispered, following Jenny upstairs. She smoothed the duvet out over her father’s
bed, then remembered the hot water bottle in the bathroom. Warmth, he would need warmth. She filled it and placed it on the bed, then stood there stupidly, staring at the dark red rubber bottle
against the white sheet.

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 riverbank 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.