The Skeleton Tree by Diane Janes (reading women TXT) 📕

John and anyone else I want to see.’ She left the room, not slamming the door as Wendy had half expected her to, but closing it emphatically, like a victor removing themselves from the field of battle.

Bruce’s face was a strange mixture of emotions.

‘You know she doesn’t mean it,’ Wendy said.

‘Doesn’t she? It’s true, after all. I’m not her father.’

‘You have been – are – a wonderful father,’ Wendy began, but Bruce stood up and walked out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Wendy jumped to her feet and pursued him to the bottom of the stairs, but he didn’t look back. For a moment, she hoped that he might be following Tara up to her room, intending to talk things out and make up, but when he reached the half landing he turned the other way. He must be going to their own bedroom. She considered following him, but then she remembered that he was already angry with her too. If she had not put him in such a bad mood to start with, Wendy reflected, he might not have lost his temper so quickly with Tara.

She stood debating for a moment, before returning to the sitting room, where she noticed that it was very still, as if the room was holding its breath, nervous after the drama just witnessed. Bruce and Tara had always been so close. She couldn’t remember them ever quarrelling like that before. Bruce had always lavished so much love on Tara, almost as if he was trying to compensate for the absent father she had never known. No wonder he was wounded by this abrupt rejection. If only he had not been in such an irritable mood … Bruce wasn’t a snob. Normally he would have laughed off the Brummie brickie as no more than a teenage fad. Tara fell madly in love with a different boy on an almost weekly basis – announcements about the latest ‘love of her life’ were a regular source of mutual amusement. Tara wasn’t about to do anything silly. She had her mind set on a place at university. It would be all right. Bruce would have a lie down, reflect that it was all a storm in a teacup and come back downstairs soon. He was always so sensible …

She continued to wait for him in the gathering dusk. The only sounds in the room came from the birds in the garden and occasional cars passing along Green Lane. The other four occupants of the house might not have existed. The sense of drama and unease had dissipated, replaced by more familiar sensations, as the comfort and safety of home wrapped itself around her. The steady tick of the grandfather clock soothed her. When it was almost completely dark she closed all the downstairs windows and locked up for the night. She found Bruce in bed, fast asleep. On reflection, she couldn’t help feeling that it was rather pathetic of him to have come up to bed like this: it was reminiscent of a child in a sulk.

She slipped along to Tara’s room, but the door was closed and Tara failed to respond to a quiet repetition of her name from the landing. Perhaps she too had already gone to bed. Only when she returned to the upper landing and noticed that Katie’s door was ajar did Wendy remember that she and her younger daughter had not wished each other goodnight. She opened the door another foot and saw that Katie had fallen asleep lying on top of the bed. Alice’s Adventures lay on the duvet cover beside her. Wendy slipped across the room and closed the curtains. There was still a little bit of light in the sky and the nearest street lamp in Green Lane created a paler patch at the top of the drive. She contemplated trying to get Katie under the duvet, but it seemed a pity to disturb her, and anyway it was such a warm night. Deciding it would be best to leave her be, Wendy crept into her own room, undressed among the soft, familiar shadows and climbed into bed, where she eventually succumbed to a restless, uneasy sleep.

A child’s screams woke her. She was immediately aware of Bruce, swearing under his breath as he sat up and fumbled for the bedside lamp. As it illuminated the room, they both leaped out of bed and raced for the landing. Bruce was several strides ahead of her and reached Katie’s room – the source of the noise – before Wendy. He flung open the bedroom door and she saw him taking Katie in his arms in the same moment as she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

‘Mam? Mam, what’s happening?’

Wendy diverted from her original intention in order to intercept Jamie. ‘It’s nothing, pet. Katie’s having a nightmare, that’s all. Come on now. You come back to bed.’

By the time she had reassured Jamie and settled him back into bed, then gone to check on Tara, who had apparently heard nothing and was fast asleep, Bruce was emerging from Katie’s room.

‘Is she all right now?’ Wendy asked.

‘She’s gone straight back to sleep.’

Wendy followed him into their bedroom. It was so airless, she could hardly breathe. ‘She hadn’t … she didn’t say she’d seen anything, did she?’

‘Seen anything?’ Bruce turned to face her. ‘What do you mean, seen anything?’

‘I just wondered … when I heard her scream like that, it reminded me of Dora.’

‘Dora? Who’s Dora? What are you talking about, Wendy?’

‘Dora was one of Mrs Duncan’s children. Joan thinks she may have seen a ghost here one night—’

Bruce didn’t allow her to get any further. ‘What the bloody hell are you talking about? Have you been filling Katie’s head with all this rubbish?’

‘Of course I haven’t. And for heaven’s sake keep your voice down. You’ll wake the children again. I wouldn’t tell them about a thing like that. It’s just that Katie waking up and screaming reminded me