The Woman in the Wood Read online

  When Linda, Alan and Steven read about Duncan in the newspaper they came out to Burley to see Maisy. Their sympathy was very welcome and comforting, especially Alan’s. He had held her hand and said that although he understood she couldn’t see him just now, he would keep in touch and be praying for her brother.

  Alan and Steven had joined the search too. By all accounts they really pushed themselves, walking much further than some of Grandmother’s neighbours who actually knew Duncan. Maisy could see for herself that Alan really cared; she longed to fall into his arms and, for just a few short moments, be able to think about something other than her brother.

  But that wasn’t possible. Grandmother wasn’t letting her go anywhere alone, Janice seemed to have developed eyes in the back of her head, and her father had also insisted she stay at home. Besides, Maisy felt it wasn’t appropriate to be seeing a boy at such a time.

  Linda went back to her boarding school a week after Duncan disappeared, and in early October Maisy got a letter from Alan telling her he was now at Bristol University and hoped she’d write and tell him what was happening. She had written back, and to Linda at her school too, but there was nothing to tell them about Duncan.

  Mr Grainger drove out to Nightingales to see Maisy and her grandmother after the initial shock waves had begun to dissipate.

  True to form, Grandmother kept him in her sitting room with her for ages while Maisy paced the hall, wanting to speak to him, as she thought a solicitor might be able to pull strings others couldn’t.

  When he eventually emerged he pulled a little face and inclined his head towards the sitting room. ‘Let’s have a little chat on our own in the garden,’ he said. ‘That’s really what I came for. I’m sorry of course for all of you, but it must come hardest for you.’

  He was so kind, putting his arm around her and letting her cry. ‘There are no words really for a situation like this. I wish I could tell you that I’m sure he’ll be found, but I can’t in all honesty. No one can predict that. But what I will say is Duncan struck me as a strong, brave boy, capable of reasoning with whoever has taken him, showing that he isn’t easily intimidated. Those are traits that historically always serve people well if they are taken hostage or prisoner.’

  ‘I never saw him as strong-willed or brave,’ she sobbed. ‘I even told the police he’s a bit soft. He used to have nightmares when he was little and I used to be the one to make them go away. But I’m glad you saw him differently. I know he wanted to be a strong, brave man.’

  ‘I saw a spark of defiance,’ he said. ‘I liked that. But tell me, Maisy, is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Do you have any influence with the police? They don’t seem to be doing much,’ she said. ‘It would be so good to have someone to push them harder. Could you do that?’

  ‘I will certainly try,’ he said. ‘Now, chin up, flash that beautiful smile and trust the legal system, which, although slow sometimes, is usually thorough.’

  Despite the confidence Mr Grainger appeared to have in the police, Maisy didn’t share it, because they hadn’t come up with one new lead since finding Duncan’s sandal. She felt that everyone but her, Janice and Grandmother had given up on her brother. The newspapers made much of the story for just a few short days, comparing Duncan’s disappearance almost in passing with those other young boys who had disappeared from towns along the south coast in the past year.

  When Maisy read about these other boys, she urged her grandmother to call the police to investigate this further, or to at least tell her son he ought to be doing so. Her father did act then; he came down to Nightingales and went to see a senior police officer in Southampton. When he came back he looked even more troubled as he’d been told that two boys’ bodies had been found in shallow graves on waste ground in the past two months, and there was another boy still missing.

  In an attempt to embarrass the police into making a bigger effort to find whoever was responsible for these crimes, Alastair had gone to a national newspaper with the story. They did print a very sensational article suggesting that this could be the work of a psychopath. But to Alastair, Violet and Maisy’s dismay, they concentrated on digging up dirt about the families of the two dead boys. One had a father in prison, the other a neglectful mother, and both boys had problems at school. As if that wasn’t enough, they then went on to reveal Duncan’s mother was in an asylum, which was why he and his sister had been sent to their grandmother’s. Their final piece of blatant slander was to report that Alastair Mitcham, although able-bodied, had held a desk job during the war.

  Having told the general public that Duncan’s mother was mad, the father a shirker and that in all probability the boy had run off to the bright lights of Brighton or London, the press then lost interest and suddenly cut off from the story.

  As Janice said, ‘They’ve besmirched us all, and they don’t even care if Duncan is alive or dead.’ As for the police, they claimed to still be on the case, but it didn’t look to Maisy or Janice as though they were making much of an effort.

  Maisy found she couldn’t make much of an effort either, in her lessons or in writing to Linda and Alan. She wanted to keep in touch with them because she needed them, but she was all too aware that fun-loving, jolly people like them couldn’t possibly understand how low her spirits were. It was just impossible for her to write the kind of bright and breezy letters they would want to receive. She hadn’t written to either of them now since mid-October.

  ‘I understand completely,’ Dove said, wheeling his chair over to Maisy and putting his arm around her. ‘But you must make something of your life, for Duncan’s sake if nothing else. You know he wouldn’t like to see you this crushed and miserable. Now would he?’

  Maisy shook her head. She was able to reason with herself, insist she had to do well in exams and go to university because Duncan would have wanted that for her – but reason didn’t help. It didn’t wipe out the bleakness inside her, or the wish that she could wander into the forest, lie down and let death come to her too.

  ‘So where were we?’ Dove said. ‘I wanted your thoughts on A Tale of Two Cities, whether or not you feel it is one of Dickens’s best books, or inferior, to, say, Great Expectations?’

  Maisy thought for a minute. ‘I thought it was very different to his other books, but maybe that was just because so much of it is set in France. I really liked it. Dickens kept the excitement brewing for me. And Sydney Carlton giving his life to save his friend was very moving.’

  Dove raised one eyebrow quizzically. ‘So you are still able to immerse yourself in a story and feel for the characters?’

  ‘Yes, I can. It helps take my mind off things,’ she said. ‘Crying for Sydney made me feel a bit better. But tell me, sir, do you think Duncan is still alive?’

  Dove wished she hadn’t asked him that. He knew only too well that if missing children aren’t found within just a couple of days it usually means they’ve been murdered. Of course Duncan wasn’t strictly a child, but then he hadn’t got it in him to just disappear to live a different life. And if he’d been kidnapped the family would’ve been contacted by now with a demand for money.

  ‘There is still the possibility that he met someone who persuaded him to go with him or her,’ he said cautiously. In his opinion anyone luring a fifteen-year-old boy away from their home could only be doing it for one purpose, and that, for a sensitive boy like Duncan, was worse than death.

  ‘You mean to work for them or something?’ she asked.

  Dove wished he hadn’t brought this up. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Then Duncan was too afraid to come home because he knew he’d be in trouble. But that’s a long shot, Maisy. I’m trying to find reasons, excuses, ideas, anything to hang a bit of hope on.’

  ‘But you actually think there is none?’

  Her stricken little face was enough to melt a heart of stone and James Dove didn’t have one of those. ‘There’s always hope,’ he lied. ‘We have to think positive thoughts.’

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bsp; Maisy clutched her coat round her more tightly as she walked back to Nightingales after her lessons. It was freezing, and she wished she’d worn her slacks, since short socks and bare legs in such weather was misery.

  When she spotted a police car outside the gate of Nightingales she ran the rest of the way, bursting in through the kitchen door, her face alight with expectancy.

  ‘Have they found him?’ she asked Janice, who was ironing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Janice said, standing the iron up on its base and moving towards Maisy. ‘But I don’t think so or your grandmother would’ve rung the bell to tell me. Maybe they’ve just found a new piece of evidence.’

  Maisy wasn’t going to wait to be told of any new developments. She threw open the door into the hall, rushed across it and into the sitting room, still wearing her coat.

  ‘What news is there?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘How dare you burst in here uninvited?’ Grandmother asked, getting up out of her armchair indignantly.

  ‘Because he’s my twin brother and I love him,’ Maisy shot back, her voice rising in anger at the selfish old woman. She took a couple of steps towards Sergeant Fowler who she’d met several times in the past couple of months. He was probably close to retirement age with a heavily lined face like a bloodhound, but she’d found him to be quite kindly. ‘Please tell me, have you found him?’

  The sergeant looked down at his feet; it was quite obvious he didn’t want to admit it.

  ‘You’ve found his body?’ she cried out. ‘No, no, please tell me that’s not true?’

  ‘We have found a body, Miss Mitcham,’ he said. ‘He’s the right age, height and weight, but until the pathologist can say when he died we can’t confirm it is your brother.’

  ‘Can’t I identify him?’ Maisy asked.

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, child,’ her grandmother barked out. ‘He isn’t in a fit state now for anyone to identify him.’

  Maisy looked from the policeman to her grandmother; she couldn’t quite focus on either of their faces. Suddenly the room seemed to spin. She reached out for the back of the settee to steady herself but missed it and felt herself falling.

  A strong smell brought her round. She was aware she was on the floor, and her grandmother was holding a bottle of smelling salts beneath her nose. Maisy rolled away from it and tried to get up.

  ‘You fainted.’ She recognized the sergeant’s voice and it came back to her what had been said. ‘Come on, now, let me help you up on to a chair. It’s hardly surprising you passed out, shock can do that to you.’

  Once Maisy was on the settee and she’d had some water, she observed her grandmother sitting opposite her was trembling, and very pale. It was a reminder that however hateful she could be, she too must be as frightened as Maisy was.

  ‘I’m sorry, Grandmother, for barging in and for being a bit stupid. I’m just so frantic with worry,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ Grandmother said. ‘And I wish I knew the right things to say to you to make it easier to bear. But I don’t. We have to wait now until the pathologist has examined this boy they’ve found, so you’ve got to be brave and composed for a little longer.’

  Sergeant Fowler crouched down by Maisy. ‘All of the team that have been trying to find Duncan really hope this isn’t him, miss. We’d rather find out he’d stowed away on a ship bound for Australia. And that has happened too. Two years ago we were searching for two boys and it turned out that’s what they’d done.’

  Maisy tried to smile because she recognized he was being kind. ‘I wish Duncan had done that, but I know he would never do such a thing. The truth is, Duncan was always a goody-goody, and not terribly brave either. I just wish you policemen would realize that building a camp in the forest was as daring as he could get. He was a happy boy, he had no reason to run away.’

  ‘I think we all appreciate that now.’ Sergeant Fowler tweaked her cheek. ‘Would anyone run away from such a devoted, loving sister? I have to go now, but I’ll be in touch as soon as we have some results.’

  The sergeant said he’d let himself out. After he’d closed the door behind him, Maisy and her grandmother stayed in their seats for some little while. Grandmother eventually broke the silence.

  ‘I don’t think it will be Duncan,’ she said thoughtfully.

  ‘Why?’ Maisy asked.

  ‘Well, for a start they found this boy near Portsmouth and he was wearing a jumper. Duncan didn’t leave here wearing a jumper. Janice went through his clothes and the only things missing were those items he’d been wearing that morning when he left.’

  ‘He could’ve bought a jumper.’

  ‘What boy of fifteen buys a jumper in summer? I suspect this boy they’ve found either died before Duncan disappeared, or more recently.’

  In Maisy’s mind, as long as Duncan’s death wasn’t confirmed there was still hope he was alive. ‘Did Sergeant Fowler tell you how this boy died?’ she asked.

  ‘No, he didn’t. They don’t give out information like that until they’re sure of identity. Now calm down, Maisy, and go and have your lunch with Janice. As soon as I know anything I will tell you.’

  As Maisy went back to the kitchen she thought on how her grandmother had softened after her faint. She wished she could be like that all the time, especially now when they all needed kindness. She hoped it also meant that her grandmother would start bullying and pestering the police for action. But perhaps it was too late for that now.

  Janice was preparing a tray for her mistress’s lunch. She looked up, wide-eyed and anxious. ‘What was the news?’

  Maisy told her. ‘Grandmother said I must be calm until we know if it is Duncan, or not.’

  Janice’s eyes welled up and, abandoning the tray, she came to Maisy with open arms to hug her.

  ‘I’m so glad I’ve got you,’ Maisy murmured into her neck.

  ‘And I’m glad I’ve got you too,’ Janice replied. ‘We will get through this, Maisy; especially if we cling together.’

  After Maisy had helped clear away the lunch and the washing-up, she asked if she could go out on her bike for a while. ‘Just a little spin to clear my head,’ she said.

  Janice frowned. ‘It’s bitterly cold and windy, but I suppose you have been cooped up a great deal lately. Don’t be long, though. It gets dark by five.’

  Maisy put on her warm slacks and another jumper, then with a woolly hat pulled down over her ears, a thick scarf and her coat, she felt ready for the chill outside.

  She knew exactly where she was going, and that it wouldn’t be approved of. But that didn’t matter to her.

  There were no tourists in cars, no dog walkers or hikers now in the forest. She had it all to herself, and the trees, stripped of their leaves, looked gaunt and skeletal. She found the little track to Grace’s shack easily this time, left her bike and pushed through, panting with the exertion of the fast ride.

  Grace’s garden looked very bare compared with how it had been on her last visit. But it was tidy, as if still looked after, and smoke was coming from her chimney. Maisy just had to hope she didn’t blame her for all she’d been put through.

  She was hesitant walking down through the garden and up the couple of steps on to the worn-looking veranda, half expecting Grace to rush out in anger and order her away.

  Moving from foot to foot to keep warm as she knocked, she was now doubting the wisdom of coming here. The door opened and Toby came charging out barking, but Grace stared at Maisy for a moment or two without speaking. She looked drawn and tired, wearing a grey woolly hat and an olive-green thick sweater which was so big it almost reached her knees.

  ‘Stop that noise, Toby,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s just Maisy.’

  ‘They’ve found a boy’s body, they think it may be Duncan. Although you have every reason not to care any more after all the police have done to you, I felt you probably still did care,’ Maisy blurted out in almost one breath.

  Grace opened the door wider and then her arms.r />
  ‘Oh, you poor child,’ she said, rocking Maisy gently. ‘And of course I care about him, and you.’

  She brought Maisy in and led her to a chair. The fire was blazing but the room wasn’t very warm. ‘Now tell me where they found this body.’

  ‘Near Portsmouth.’

  ‘Two other boys’ bodies have been found in the last few months, one near Littlehampton and the other near Southampton,’ Grace said. ‘Four other boys from the south coast area have disappeared in the last year. That’s not including Duncan.’

  Maisy was shocked that there were three she didn’t know about, and yet touched that Grace, who clearly never normally kept abreast with local news, had been following it.

  ‘You think one person has taken all of them?’ she asked.

  Grace frowned. ‘It seems to me very likely. The boys are all a similar age. I have my own theory about what he wants with them, and unless he’s hidden the other bodies very well, perhaps he only kills the boys who won’t do what he wants of them.’

  ‘Like what?’ Maisy asked. ‘How do you know about these other boys anyway?’

  ‘I overheard a policeman talking about two other missing boys when they kept me at the police station, so when I got out I went to the reading room at the library in Southampton and looked through local newspapers to find out about each of them. Since then I’ve been going once a week and reading everything.’

  Maisy was really impressed that Grace would do her own investigation, and she felt bad that neither she nor her father had been so active. ‘But you didn’t say what you think he wants of these boys.’

  ‘No, I didn’t, and I’m not going to as it’s only a theory and I’m not going to put ideas into your head. Tell me, Maisy, how have you been bearing up?’

  ‘Struggling a lot of the time,’ she admitted. ‘If it wasn’t for Janice and my teacher Mr Dove I think I’d be a complete wreck. I fainted when the police came today to tell us about this body. I seem to be on a knife’s edge all the time now. But you had a bad time at the hands of the police; it was so wrong of them to come and arrest you.’