The Paradise Trees (9 page)

‘Quiet as a lamb, he fell asleep soon after you left,’ she reported, and Alicia sighed. Sleeping half the day meant her father would be up half the night, pills or no pills. Oh,
well. She would leave him until lunchtime and give herself some peace and quiet to think. She had a lot to think about now, and Doug had certainly raised a few forgotten emotions.

Alicia smiled to herself.

The Stranger

After two glorious afternoons in the woods with little Helen he had gone up to the circle of trees expecting her to be there today too. It was fortunate that his job gave him
so much freedom. A nine to five job with a boss breathing down his neck wouldn’t have done for him at all.

But the clearing was deserted. The trees stood silent, leafy tops waving in the breeze. The only person interrupting the stillness here was himself.

The disappointment was heavy, but there would be other opportunities for play-meetings before little Helen’s trip to Paradise on Sunday, he reassured himself. He sat down on the fallen
tree trunk to think about his beautiful plan.

The old man was the key player, old Bob. He was going to get lost, wasn’t he, and then while big Helen was out searching, he himself would have plenty of time for a game with little Helen.
Oh God, playing with little Helen. He might even be able to take her home with him, what a beautiful game they could have together then. The lovely times he’d never had with Mummy would be
his to take now with little Helen. And then when they’d played as much as they wanted, off he would send her... like Snugglepuss and Mummy but in quite a different way. There had been rage
then. With Snugglepuss the rage had come slowly, he’d held his cat that day and the rage had built and built. With Mummy, it had been sudden. She had ignored him once too often and all the
hurt that had piled up inside had exploded. With the Helens there would be no rage, just love and then Paradise, almost like it had been with his own Helen. Nothing at all like Mummy’s
death.

That had happened when he was fifteen. He had turned into a tall, lanky youth and the whole family often laughed at his breaking voice and gangly limbs. Just like they’d laughed when
Snugglepuss had turned against him. Dad would taunt him about being a Mummy’s boy and Mummy herself would say things like ‘Oh for God’s sake get a grip’ when he tried to
wheedle her into a good mood.

Then one morning, quite early, he’d been coming out of the bathroom and there was Mummy on the landing, about to go downstairs. He’d smiled at her, good morning Mummy - but
she’d looked right through him. Not out of anger or to teach him a lesson, no, in one sickening moment he’d seen that he wasn’t even worth a word or a smile. Rejection by
indifference.

And all the hurt, accumulated over years and years, had overwhelmed him completely. Before he even thought about it he’d grabbed her arm, I’m
here
, Mummy, Mummy, look at me!
He was squeezing her arm with both hands now but it felt nothing like white fur this time. She jerked away from him and the rage took control. As hard as he could he pushed her towards the stairs;
she tried to keep her balance but another shove sent her crashing all the way down to the bottom. Her head hit the big wooden knob on the bannister and he heard bones snap as she landed in the
hallway.

Silence fell. He crept downstairs and pulled at her shoulder and she let out a weak, breathy groan. She was staring at him now, he couldn’t stand it. She was looking at him with desperate
eyes and it was just like with Snugglepuss because suddenly he didn’t have to think at all about what to do, he simply reached out and held Mummy’s nose and mouth closed and watched as
the light went out of her eyes and the faltering breathing stopped. She barely struggled. The whole thing had taken seconds.

He’d waited a moment, frozen to the spot and thinking his father would come running, but then stupid Dad always slept deeply. Mummy was dead, she was dead... And the agony now in his head
was ten times worse than the hurt. He had to get rid of it, so he parcelled it up and locked it away in the part of his mind he never used. He’d gone back to bed and lain there waiting until
his father got up and found Mummy, though of course it was only Mummy’s body, for by that time Mummy herself was in hell.

He had vowed then never to love again, that way he would avoid more rejection and more hurt, and this had worked perfectly until he met Helen. She’d been his angel right from the start,
his love. Almost like Mummy but so, so different. Then came the dreadful day when he’d pushed her too... He had to make that mistake good again.

Very soon the two new Helens would be safe in Paradise. His loves would all be together. He sighed. Helen was the sweetest name in the world.

The tree trunk was damp and he rose and jogged regretfully down the pathway to the back road, away from the memories and away from the clearing and away from little Helen’s home.

It was time to make the final arrangements. Sunday would soon be here.

Alicia

‘We can collect him tonight? Oh, how brilliant! Conker, we’re going to have a cat!’

Looking down at Jenny’s excited face, Alicia felt a spark of enthusiasm return to her. No matter what else was going on, she was giving her daughter a wonderful summer. The little girl had
thoroughly enjoyed her day in York, including the solo bus journey back home again, sitting right at the front where the driver could keep an eye on her – Alicia’s worry had been
needless – and now they were going to pick up a cat. A cat of their own, to take home to Bedford. Life just didn’t get better.

Pigtails flying, Jenny danced out to the car. Alicia looked back at her father, sitting staring at the television news. They would only be gone fifteen minutes. It maybe wasn’t the best
idea to leave him alone like this but he’d be okay. As long as the telly was on he’d stay put, he never moved in the evening.

The village street was deserted as they drove to the pet shop, and Jenny was out of the car before Alicia had switched the engine off. Grabbing her bag, she followed her daughter inside.

‘There he is!’ The little girl ran to the counter where the cat was sitting, and Kenneth Taylor lumbered over to greet them, a beaming smile on his shiny fat face.

‘Hello, hello. Yes, there he is. All better now.’

Alicia made herself smile back. She didn’t know what it was about Kenneth that made her feel so uneasy, after all he had been nothing but friendly towards them.

‘Thanks, Mr Taylor. Now, Jen and I are what you might call novices at cat-keeping, so a book might be good, and we’ll need some things for him too,’ she said, and he reached
past her and plucked a book from the stand.

‘Right you are. This one’s very good, it explains all about cats in a nice easy to read way. And all the extras are over there.’ He nodded at the shelves on the other side of
the room.

Jenny immediately began gathering bowls and toys together, and Alicia went to help. There seemed to be an unlimited amount of cat accessories available, but at last they had a small selection
sitting on the counter. Kenneth added a few packets of food and produced a sturdy carton to double as transport box and sleeping quarters. Alicia couldn’t help feeling impressed –
surprised, too – when he advised against buying an expensive basket in the meantime, just in case the cat was still claimed.

‘Have you got a name for him?’ he asked, tickling behind the cat’s ears. It arched its back, purring loudly.

‘Moritz,’ said Jenny. ‘Like the cat in my book. He’s going to be best friends with Conker, you know. He couldn’t come now because he’s guarding Grandpa at
home.’

Kenneth nodded, pressing his lips together. He was evidently aware of her father’s condition and Alicia wondered how he knew. Mrs Mullen, probably, who else?

‘Parents can be a problem, can’t they,’ he said in a low voice while Jenny petted the kitten. ‘I know that because my own mum was a bit of a tyrant in her own way. And
when she died my Dad just went to pieces, we left the area and went to London where he drank himself into an early grave. I always think the important thing for me now is to make sure I don’t
end up like either of them.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Alicia, his sensitivity surprising her again. Avoiding your parents’ fate was something she could definitely agree with him about. Kenneth Taylor was maybe
worth more than he was selling himself for.

He picked up the cat and kissed its nose before putting it into the box and Alicia smiled to herself. He was a real funny bunny and no mistake...

‘Thanks, Mr Taylor. You might find us in quite often at first, needing advice!’

He grinned, and she saw that he was younger than she’d thought. ‘Call me Kenneth,’ he said. ‘I’ll look forward to it. You’ll have lots of fun with him,
I’m sure.’ Gently, he pushed the box across the counter to Jenny.

‘Thank you - oh, you’re bleeding!’ The little girl reached past the box and took hold of his thumb, where blood was oozing from under a piece of sticking plaster. He snatched
his hand back, a sudden hiss escaping from between his teeth. Jenny jumped, and Alicia put an arm round her.

‘Careful, Jen, you shouldn’t grab sore hands like that,’ she said. ‘Are you okay, Mr um, Kenneth?’

‘Yes of course, I’m so sorry, I just got a little fright,’ he said, smiling and nodding away...

Alicia had to force herself to smile back now. She lifted the bag with the accessories while Jenny held the box with Moritz, looking as if someone had given her the moon. A lump came to
Alicia’s throat. Jen was having a wonderful summer, and that was the important thing. She drove home, trying not to laugh at the way Jenny was commiserating with the cat about being taped
into a box. What with the pet shop owner’s antics and now her daughter’s, this had turned into one of the most entertaining outings she’d had all summer.

To Alicia’s relief her father hadn’t budged from his chair. There. Something else had gone well today. Lots of things had, actually. She had seen St. Joe’s, and Doug Patton had
asked her out. Mr Taylor had been funny and Jenny was happy about her cat... a good day overall. The downside was it might not be over for a bit, collecting cats just before bedtime might not have
been the best idea.

After several false starts, Jenny disappeared upstairs with Conker in tow. Alicia took her father up too, and tucked him into his bed as well. And now the rest of the day was her own.
Hallelujah.

The grandfather clock in the hallway was striking when she sank down in the corner of the sofa, clutching a gin and tonic. Thinking time at long last. Alicia put her feet on the coffee table and
sipped appreciatively. The memories, or lack of them about her childhood were disturbing and she mulled over the different possibilities as to how to deal with them. She should (a) get away from
Lower Banford and (b) go for some kind of counselling. She needed distance. She needed perspective. She needed help to unlock the gaping holes in her memory.

She would talk to Frank again. He had so much common sense, and he was part of her past, he didn’t feel like one of Jenny’s dreaded strangers. Or maybe she could ask Doug Patton for
advice. Alicia smiled to herself. He would probably be only too pleased to help her. It felt good, knowing that Doug found her attractive. The little wave of pleasure whenever she thought about him
had been missing in her life for a long, long time. Just a little wave, rushing up the beach with a kind of fizzing sound... And it could so easily turn into a positive tsunami, too, and what an
exciting thought that was.

The stairs creaked as the old house shifted and settled for the night. Alicia sat in the dimness, sipping her drink.

Living here. Playing spaceships with Cathal... Kids didn’t change, in spite of all the technology nowadays. But her childhood was long gone, and what
had
happened, exactly?

A picture flashed abruptly into her mind. Pain. Herself, maybe Jen’s age, maybe younger, lying on a bed and crying in the dark. Alicia shivered. There was so much she didn’t
remember. What had it been like, living here year after year with a religious fanatic for a father, and a meek, submissive mother? It was beginning to look very much as if her childhood
hadn’t been at all what it should have been, and that was something she really didn’t enjoy thinking about. She had been afraid. She had been punished for things that other kids took
for granted, like a clap on the shoulder from a friend, and eating a handful of rasps.

Sometimes you read about perverse, religious-motivated abuse that went on. Her father had been careful to spurn the devil at every opportunity... had that involved cruelty towards his own child?
Whipping the wickedness out of her, maybe? Or had it been more than that? Would Margaret know? Or Cathal, her best friend, would he remember? She should look him up and ask.

Alicia made herself another drink, a small one this time. Glass in hand, she stood gazing out of the kitchen window. The garden was in near-darkness now, she couldn’t see as far as the
woods on the hill. How excited Jenny was about her secret place. What had she said this morning? Oh, it was no use. She was much too tired to think. You could do too much soul-searching. It was
time to go to bed.

The Stranger

He paced up and down his comfortable, old-fashioned living room, hands balled in frustration and glaring across at the wooded hillside every time he passed the window.

It was so frustrating. He hadn’t seen little Helen since Wednesday. Of course, the wet weather hadn’t helped. Thankfully the forecast for tomorrow was better, sunny intervals with
the odd shower. Dry weather would make his plan so much easier to carry out. Just his luck that rain had stopped play with little Helen these past few days. After being with her in the woods like
that, touching her, laughing with her, he’d wanted more, much more. Paradise was beckoning little Helen, and he had so wanted to see her again before her long journey. That wasn’t going
to happen now. But tomorrow would make up for everything.

He thought back to his last meeting with her. So wonderful, the way she had trusted him, played with him. Had she told her mother about their secret? Surely not. And she couldn’t be
afraid
of him, he’d been so careful to be ‘nice’. It was something he was rather good at, he played the role of nice man every day: friendly, respectable, always ready
with good advice. He hadn’t been back in the village long, but Lower Banford had accepted him without question. Once a villager, always a villager.