Ten years ago, there was a spate of disturbances in the village. A group of teenage girls were cautioned for loitering inthe park and bullying another girl of the same age. No names were provided.
Stephen knows all about girls like them. When he was a boy, a group of four girls had picked on and tormented him from primary all the way through secondary school. His parents (mainly his father) refused to accept there was anything different about him and couldn’t understand why he didn’t learn at the same rate as everyone else. They called him disruptive, rude and lazy. Stephen wasn’t any of those things. Quite the opposite. But those girls had been determined to make his life even harder by constantly belittling him in front of people and laughing whenever he got something wrong or made a fool of himself, which was quite often.
Nowadays, thankfully, society seems to understand learning difficulties a lot more, but from what Stephen has seen in the news and on social media, it doesn’t mean people are any less sympathetic or accepting of it. In fact, with the explosion of social media since his school days, the bullying and harassment has increased dramatically. He’s glad he didn’t grow up in today’s society where everything is posted online for the whole world to see and share. He’s grateful his childhood and teenage years had been spent relatively social media free. The only reminders he has from that time are physical pictures hidden away at the back of his desk drawer. He didn't exist online before 2007.
‘Do you think any of those girls were Sophia?’ asks the detective.
‘Unconfirmed, but as I said, she doesn’t appear to exist online as of 2015. For all intents and purposes, she truly has disappeared, which raises more questions. The most obvious one being why is no one actively looking for her? There’s nothing, anywhere online, about a missing girl from this village from that time.’
Stephen clicks a few more links in the search results. ‘This could be something … it’s a local school competition from eleven years ago. Sophia’s name is mentioned and … it looks like she won. They have her winning entry right here and … Detective, you’re going to want to read this.’
The Detective comes round and stands behind him, leaning over his shoulder as they read together in silence.
Death in the Trees by Sophia Hammel
Trees have always fascinated me. I’ve decided to turn my attention to the oldest trees in Britain. It’s a well-known fact that the oldest type of tree in the United Kingdom is the yew tree, but determining the age of a tree is often difficult. This is because the trunks of ancient trees are usually hollow, so there’s no chance of counting the rings.
However, the yew tree is different in this aspect. They have a remarkable ability to renew and continue to thrive,living for thousands of years. A yew tree can live for around 900 years before they are consideredancient,whereas oak trees are considered ancient at around 400 years.
Therefore, it’s not surprising that most of the trees in the running for the oldest tree in Britain are yew trees. However, there are also several oak trees that deserve attention, including one that stands in the very village I live in. Situated atop a hill in the sleepy village of Bethgelert, in mid-Wales, is an oak tree, locally named The Hanging Tree.
This tree is somewhat of a mystery. It has a girth of just under 10 metres and is thought to be over 800 years old. What sets it apart from any other tree is its stunning location, growing on top of a large hill on the outskirts of the village. It towers over the valley below, like an ancient statue, guarding a secret. Unlike some large oaks, its trunk isn’t hollow. It is an impressive beast of a tree.
It is named The Hanging Tree for a sad reason, but it’s only had the name for the past 90 years or so. Back in 1925, a young man named John Hammel was found hanging from the tree after tragically ending his own life. He was my great, great, great grandfather.
He was discovered by his sweetheart, Carys Griffiths, who mourned him for several months before dying in childbirth; bearing his child and therefore continuing the family name. It’s a sad story, but one that has moulded the village of Bethgelert for nearly one hundred years.
Old trees are usually symbols of strength, resilience and a beacon of hope in the surrounding community. The same cannot be said for The Hanging Tree. Since 1925, it has been left to its own devices, having even been struck by lightning in 1960, severely damaging the trunk and one of its thicker branches.
The land the tree stands on still belongs to the Hammel family, but hardly anything is known about John Hammel. He’s now buried in the local graveyard with nothing but his name to show where he lies. It seems as if he has brought shame to the family name for ending his own life. Nothing is known about him, but his family have lived on until this day, including me.
The tree itself is over 100 feet tall; an impressive feat considering its location. It’s a shame it has such a bad backstory. The question is … why did John Hammel hang himself from the tree?Perhaps one day, someone will be able to learn more about the events of what happened in 1925 and why such a happy farm boy, who had everything to live for, decided to cut his life short one day.
The Hanging Tree knows, but who will be the one to reveal its secrets?
Only time will tell. That’s the thing about old trees. In another hundred years, it’ll still be here, watching over the village, hiding the secrets within.
Unless someone can uncover them first.
Chapter 20
GRAHAM
Graham reads the online article, which appears to be very well written for a teenager. It seems she knew a hell of a lot for someone so young and, since she was a daughter of the main man in the village, she probably had a lot more access to sensitive information than others.
But did she know too much?
There wasn’t a lot in the article they didn’t know already, but it did cement the fact that Sophia Hammel clearly had a fascination with The Hanging Tree and the untimely death of her relative. She was also searching for information; just like they were doing now.
Graham leaves Mr Mallow to continue his research. He quietly reads and scrolls on his laptop screen for several more minutes, his eyes barely blinking. If Graham didn’t know any better, he’d have said the man is in some sort of trance. Graham returns to the dinner, now ready for serving, spooning a large ladle of curry into a wide-rimmed bowl, followed by a pile of fluffy, steamed rice.
He slides a bowl across the table towards Mr Mallow, along with a set of cutlery, then takes a seat opposite him and begins to eat, knowing better than to disturb the man. Graham is halfway through his bowl of food by the time Mr Mallowlooks up from the laptop screen, taking a deep breath for the first time in a while.
‘Okay, I think I’m getting somewhere.’
Graham swallows a mouthful of curry too fast without chewing the lumps of vegetables and a piece gets stuck in his throat. He coughs, then swallows it down. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘Where’s Sophia’s mother in all of this?’
