Spider's Web (22 page)

Surely ‘The Wicca Man’ was Gavin. Who else could it be? She clicked the ‘New Email’ icon and typed The Wicca Man’s email address followed by the message ‘We need to meet.’ Her finger hovered over the mouse. Was this what she wanted? What if there
was
some even deeper, darker secret behind her parents’ silence? Her life was pretty good. Did she really want to risk ruining it? She thrust the doubts aside. It was too late to back out now. It had been the moment she’d contacted Lindsey Allen. She hit ‘Send’ and chewed her lips as she waited for a reply. Barely a minute passed before one came. It read simply, ‘Why?’

She thought for a moment, before typing ‘Emily knows about you. The policeman told her. I think its time you and her met.’

This time The Wicca Man took a while longer to respond. ‘So do I but it’s too dangerous.’

Her fingers trembling with nervous excitement, Emily replied, ‘No its not. The policeman hasnt been back.’

Another minute or so passed, then: ‘I’ll meet you at the usual place in two hours.’

Emily’s face knotted. Where was the usual place? Her mind raced for a response that would coax the answer out of The Wicca Man without raising his suspicions. She couldn’t think of one. All she could come up with was: ‘I dont want to take Emily there. Lets meet at sherwood forest visitor centre.’ She squeezed her eyes half shut, asking herself,
Why did you suggest that place?
It had just kind of popped into her head. Her dad loved the Robin Hood legend and he’d taken her there dozens of times throughout her childhood.

One minute passed… three minutes… five…
He’s not going to reply
, she thought
.
But then an email landed in the inbox. It read, ‘OK.’

Emily hauled in a shaky breath. In a couple of hours she would have all the answers she wanted, and maybe more than she wanted. She looked up bus times. There was a bus from the city centre shortly after ten o’clock that arrived at the visitor centre an hour or so later. She glanced at a clock. It was almost half nine. She needed to get a move on if she was going to catch the bus. She quickly deleted all her emails and the replies and shut the computer down. She hurried from the study, pausing at the door of her parents’ bedroom. It looked as though it had been hit by a hurricane. Her parents would know something was up the instant they saw it. They might even contact Gavin to warn him. Still, there was no time to tidy it up. She would just have to hope she got to Gavin before they returned home.

She changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and darted downstairs. She paused again by the front door. It passed through her mind to get a knife from the kitchen. What if Gavin was dangerous? She might need something to defend herself with. She dismissed the thought. The reporter had said Gavin was only accused of rape. He was never charged. That meant he was innocent, didn’t it? And besides, they were family. Surely he wouldn’t hurt his own family. She locked the door behind herself and started running.

13

Where the hell’s she going now?
wondered Anna as she watched Emily sprint away from the house. She obviously wasn’t returning to school, seeing as she’d changed out of her uniform. Anna waited until Emily turned the corner at the end of the street, then she started up the van and accelerated after her. Emily caught another bus. Anna tailed it into the city centre, where Emily disembarked at a cavernous bus station. Anna parked up and furtively followed her on foot. Peering around a concrete pillar, she watched her buy a ticket and run for a bus that was already pulling away. Emily hammered on the doors and the driver opened them for her.

Anna noted the bus’s destination. Ollerton – a small town an hour or so to the north of Nottingham. She stayed out of sight as the bus passed, then darted back to the van. As she set off after the bus, she phoned Jim. ‘Where are you?’

‘In Leicester, not far from Alison Sullivan’s parents’ house. I managed to speak to a couple of the Walshes’ former neighbours earlier. And guess what?’

‘They didn’t remember Sharon being pregnant.’

‘Got it in one. Where are you? It sounds like you’re driving.’

‘I am and I think maybe you should get back here.’ Anna filled Jim in on what had happened that morning.

‘I’m on my way.’ His words were accompanied by the sound of a car turning sharply. ‘Don’t hang up. I want to hear exactly what’s going on at your end.’

The bus headed along Mansfield Road, leaving behind the city centre, passing ranks of suburban housing that finally gave way to flat fields of wheat, barley and oilseed rape. Anna relayed a running commentary to Jim on when and where the bus stopped and who got off and on. It turned onto Ollerton Road and made its way north through a countryside dotted with pockets of woodland that gradually melded into an unbroken forest. The trees crept closer and closer to the road, until their leaves dappled Anna’s windscreen with shadows. A sign announced that she was entering Sherwood Forest. As she peered into the gloom of the trees, she found herself wondering whether somewhere amongst them there was another tree like the one in Leeds. Was that where Emily was heading?

She uneasily told Jim where she was and asked, ‘How far away are you?’ There was no reply. She glanced at her phone. The reception bar was non-existent. ‘Fuck.’ She hissed the word through her teeth, glaring at the trees as if they were out to get her.

A single reception bar returned as the car emerged from the trees at the edge of Edwinstowe, a village of white cottages and red-brick houses that the forest encircled like a protecting hand. She dialled Jim again. His voice crackled brokenly over the line. ‘Whe… a…’

‘I’m in Edwinstowe,’ said Anna.

‘I ca… you.’

Did he mean he couldn’t hear? ‘Edwinstowe,’ Anna shouted. ‘What about you?’

Jim said something, but it was too faint to make out.

‘Say again.’

The bus slowed at a crossroads in the centre of the village. A snippet of Jim’s voice came through. ‘I… Calvert…’

‘Are you saying you’re at Calverton?’ asked Anna. Calverton was a village north-east of Nottingham. If Jim was there, he was still a good half an hour behind the bus. The bus accelerated and Anna did likewise. The line broke up completely again. As they passed out of the village and back into the forest, the reception bar dropped to zero and a ‘No Service’ message flashed up.

A mile or so beyond the village, the bus turned into the large, tree-shaded car park of Sherwood Forest Nature Reserve. The car park was empty except for a couple of cars. Anna didn’t dare follow the bus into it for fear of being spotted. She pulled over at the edge of the road where the car park was visible through a thin screen of trees. The bus stopped at a little wooden shelter. When it continued on its way, Anna saw that Emily had got off. The girl was standing with her back to the road, turning her head from side to side as though looking for something, or more likely someone. Anna could think of only one person who that someone could be.

Emily set off walking into the forest. Anna dialled Jim again, more in hope than expectation. The line rang three times, then went dead. She lost sight of Emily amongst the trees. She jumped out of the van, scurried across the car park and pressed herself flat against a tree. Peeking around it, she saw Emily heading along a path signposted ‘Visitor Centre’. She took a quick photo of the sign and sent it to Jim. Maybe it would get through. Maybe not. Either way, Jim would see her van parked on the road and know she was somewhere in the vicinity. Staying off the path, moving from tree to tree, she continued following Emily.

As Emily walked, her gaze roamed amongst the trees. In the hazy sunlight there was a soft, almost dreamlike quality to the forest that drew her mind back to the many hours she’d spent there as a young child. There was a play park nearby, but she’d preferred to play amongst the slender birches and thick oaks, climbing, hiding, pretending to be an outlaw. It was only since discovering an interest in boys that she’d grown her hair and started wearing makeup. Not so long ago she’d been a tomboy with grubby hands and grazed knees. She’d especially liked to play inside the hollow trees, of which there were plenty in the forest. There was one in particular – a huge gnarled oak – that had been her favourite. Its trunk had snapped about four metres from the ground, allowing the sun entrance to its interior.

Her pace slowed as she entered a clearing that contained a small assortment of one-storeyed, mossy-roofed buildings painted various shades of green to blend in with their surroundings. Nothing had changed since her previous visit. The buildings were centred around a life-size model of Robin Hood and Little John fighting with staves. She brought up the photo of Gavin on her phone. It had been taken twenty-six years ago.
Will I be able to recognise him?
she wondered.
Will he recognise me? Has he ever even seen me?

Other than herself and an old couple walking a dog, the clearing was deserted. She peered through the window of a café. A man was eating a sandwich at one of the tables. He had grey hair and glasses. Surely he was too old to be Gavin. She looked at the time on her phone. It was only twenty-five past eleven. Maybe Gavin wasn’t here yet. She wandered around the dusty exhibits, glancing without interest at scenes from the Robin Hood legend that had once fired her imagination. Ten minutes dragged by. A few people came and went. None of them looked remotely like Gavin. Her brow pinched thoughtfully. Maybe he’d decided it was too risky to come after all.

She sat on a bench for a few minutes, then walked to the far end of the clearing where a sign directed visitors to the Major Oak – an immense hollow tree that Robin Hood and his men had supposedly sheltered within. Perhaps Gavin was there. She started along the path. Her gaze was drawn to a tree a short distance away to her right – the broken old oak that had been her childhood favourite. Something had caught her eye. A flicker of movement? A little cautiously, she approached the tree and looked behind it. Nothing. She squinted into the flaring crack at the base of the trunk. A hand suddenly emerged from it. She made to cry out, but before she could do so the hand smothered her mouth. A second hand grabbed her arm and yanked her inside the tree. As she struggled to break free in the wood-smelling gloom, a soft but distinctly male voice said, ‘It’s me. Gavin.’

The hands released Emily. Her heart hammering, she pressed back against the tree trunk. She found herself looking into a face that was different yet unmistakably the same as the one from the
Birmingham Evening Post
article. Much of it was masked by a thick black beard that – like her mum’s hair – was several shades too dark to be natural. Equally black hair was pulled back into a receding ponytail. The face was weather-beaten, cut through with deep lines that flared from the corners of the eyes – eyes as dark as the tree’s bark. Their stockily built owner was dressed in a brown wax jacket and camouflaged trousers that almost made him seem part of the tree. As Emily took him in, he did the same to her. He smiled. Not a warm smile, but not a threatening one either. More a kind of calculated show of friendliness.

‘Hello, Emily. Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s back at the visitor centre,’ lied Emily, suddenly wishing he was. Even though the tree’s interior was carved with dozens of names, she’d always thought of it as a secret place. A safe place. But Gavin’s proximity within its close confines made her feel deeply vulnerable.

His smile broadened. ‘No he’s not. It was you who sent those emails.’

Emily made no reply. She glanced at the crack in the trunk as though she was thinking of making a run for it.

‘It’s OK,’ said Gavin, reading her apprehension. ‘I’m not angry. I’m glad you sent them.’

She tentatively met his gaze. ‘How did you know?’

‘A couple of reasons.’ Gavin ticked them off on thick, callused fingers. ‘Firstly, Dad’s a stickler for proper grammar. He’d never miss an apostrophe. Secondly, the forest
is
the usual place where we meet. How do you think I knew about this tree? When you were little I used to watch you play here.’ His eyes flickered with a sudden intensity. ‘And do you know what I’d think? I’d think to myself that you were the most beautiful child I’d ever seen. You’re even more beautiful now.’

Not knowing what to make of the compliment or the way Gavin was looking at her, Emily blinked awkwardly. ‘So we’ve met before?’

‘No. I used to watch you from a distance.’ A little twist of bitterness came into Gavin’s smile. ‘And when Dad stopped bringing you with him I couldn’t even do that.’

‘Why did he stop bringing me?’

‘He said it was because you didn’t want to come here any more. But that wasn’t it, was it?’

Emily gave a little shrug. ‘I never stopped enjoying coming here. I’m not really bothered about all the Robin Hood stuff, but the forest—’

‘Yes, the forest!’ Gavin cut in eagerly. ‘You feel it, don’t you?’ He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. ‘You feel the power of this place.’

‘I… I don’t know. I just like it here.’ Emily stiffened as Gavin reached out and put his hand on her arm again.

‘That’s because you’re like I was. You hear the trees speaking to you, but you don’t understand what they’re saying. I can teach you to understand. I can open your ears and your eyes. I can show you the truth. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?’

Emily hesitated to answer. There was a different kind of light in Gavin’s eyes now. Emily occasionally went – or rather allowed herself to be dragged – along to the Evangelical Church her mum attended. Gavin had the same look in his eyes as the minister there did when he was preaching. She’d never felt comfortable around such faith. She just didn’t
feel
it. For a long time she’d wondered if that made her a bad person. She’d even had nightmares about going to hell. One night, she’d tearfully confided in her dad and he’d replied gently,
If you’re a bad person then I must be too, because I don’t feel it either.
After that, she’d had no more nightmares.

‘Well,’ continued Gavin, a hint of impatience in his voice, ‘isn’t it?’