She could have phoned Nick. But she didn’t want to. It would be like admitting that she couldn’t manage things by herself. No. She wasn’t going to do that, not with him.
So here she was, tramping up the path through the trees, arms wrapped around her chest, head down, cursing under her breath with every step. Helpless and hopeless, and way out of her depth in this rural setting which was meant to be her home.
But it wasn’t her home. She had no place here and never had.
So long as she didn’t end up in a ditch. It wasn’t like there was much traffic up to Wildewood Hall and that was the only way the road went.
She had no idea why she wasn’t just going straight through the woods, but Fionnuala had suggested this route. Keep to the edge of the boundary, she’d said, and don’t cross it until the gate. Maybe the locals didn’t use it because it was private. She couldn’t imagine her grandfather had taken lightly to trespassers on his land. Habit might lead them to avoid it. But it was her land after all. And it was the most direct way to the house.
Her house, she reminded herself.
For now, anyway.
So as she reached the edge of the sun-drenched field, with the sheep grazing down at the far end, she followed the obvious path around it to the treeline. There was a ditch – of course there was – and on the far side a fence with a ‘Private property – keep out’ sign clearly demarking the boundary.
It was a bit of a scramble but she made it over the fence, thanking God there was no barbed wire involved.
The cool green shadows of the trees closed in over her. The temperature difference was the first thing she noticed. Out there it was sunny, verging on too hot. In here it was a different world. The trees were old and twisted, with bright green moss like velvet on the stones and the lower parts of the tree trunks. And so many wildflowers in the dappled light. A curious quiet had settled around her, almost magical, and Alex had the feeling of stepping into another world or back in time. The only sounds were birdcalls, and rustling.
The beauty of the woods swept over her in a way that was completely unexpected.
And so did the memory.
Gran had led her along paths like this, telling her the names of the trees and the flowers. Not just their official names, but personal private names, magical names. They had made flower crowns, and things with twigs and moss. There had been stories and songs.
It was the only time she’d been happy at Wildewood Hall.
When had Gran died? Alex wasn’t sure now. All she knew was her dad was gone, and so was Gran, and Mum wanted nothing to do with the de Wildes. Mum had remarried within a year, and Alex had taken her pragmatic stepfather’s surname, as well as his love of the scientific and the logical. She had built it around her like a barrier and left the de Wildes behind.
Then this place had taken Theo too. These very woods.
Had it been deliberate? she wondered. Though they’d looked into Nick, the official account of Theo’s death said it was an accident in the woods and there was no one else here at the time. She hoped it had been quick, that he hadn’t lain here, suffering, slipping away slowly. Alone.
She swallowed hard. No one else seemed to have made a connection between the death of their father and the death of her brother. But then, who else was left to do that?
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away furiously.
Leaves shuddered somewhere off to her left and Alex froze, waiting to see if something was coming through the press of plant life. Nothing appeared.
The path led on, deeper through the woodland, widening out a bit now, and she followed it, trusting it to lead her to the house eventually.
Where else would it go?
So why did it seem like the bloody thing was taking her around in circles? She checked her watch again. That was when she realised it had stopped. She fished out her phone only to find the battery was dead too.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
A branch cracked, bringing her head up, her attention bristling. A hare stood in the path ahead of her. Beautiful, elegant, watching her so carefully, its long black-tipped ears alert, twitching. But it didn’t run. Its coat was a pale brown and its eyes so golden it didn’t quite look real. It stared at her for a long moment and Alex couldn’t move.
Of course there were hares in the area. They were wild animals and all the fences in the world couldn’t keep them out. It was just so much larger than she expected. She’d always just thought of them as a kind of rabbit but that wasn’t right at all, not now she saw one for real. And it wasn’t the dark brown she had expected. The fur was almost as golden as its eyes.
Another noise from deep in the woods made them both start, and as Alex jumped back a step, the hare took off, bounding down the path. Catching her breath, Alex jogged after it, the path weaving through the trees until it opened into a clearing.
There was a ring of standing stones in the middle. Alex stared, unable to believe what she was seeing. They were old, she realised, really old. There were worn carvings half covered by moss. The circle of grass inside was lush and green, far darker than outside. The trees pressed close around it, forming a third ring.
Shit, if there was some kind of archaeological site here, surely she should have known. The lawyers should have flagged it. There was no mention of it in any of the papers.
And yet…she remembered this place. Remembered being here with Gran. Remembered Dad…
