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'I miss my mummy.' A note of sadness, almost a sob. 'I loved her.'
'How long's she . . .'
'A few days. Would you like to see her grave?'
No, I wouldn't. 'Sometime perhaps but hadn't we better go and meet your daddy
first?'
'I suppose so.'
The other's mood had changed; sullen, those cold fingers detaching themselves
from Thelma's, walking faster, striding on ahead.
The wood was not quite so boggy here, the ground a thick carpet of dead leaves
which had gathered over the years, the permanent smell of decay almost
overpowering. A wide space, perhaps the trees here had been felled at some
time or other or else they had just blown down and rotted. Ahead of her Thelma
saw what appeared to be a huge circular hole in the ground, a pit of some kind
that had once been dug out manually because there was a large mound on the
opposite side. It grew weeds and moss so the excavation had been a very long
time ago. She wondered what on earth anybody would want to dig here for.
'They used to get peat from here a long time ago, when my daddy was a little
boy.' Elsie appeared to have the uncanny knack of being able to read your
thoughts. If her father had been here as a boy then they couldn't live in
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those new houses.
'You live around here then?' A direct question; perhaps too direct.
'Sort of.'
What's your other name? What's your daddy do for a living? And just where do
you live? Thelma checked her curiosity. She would find out soon enough.
'My daddy's down there.' Elsie had run on ahead, was standing looking down
into the deep hole.
Thelma halted, a sudden inexplicable terror gripping her, a tremor in her
voice when she spoke. 'Whatever do you mean . . . down there!'
'Down there!' Impatience, a tiny finger stabbing down at the hole. 'If you
don't believe me come and look for yourself. I thought you wanted to meet him.
I've brought you specially.'
'All . . . right.' Thelma Brown's legs felt suddenly rubbery. Perhaps it was
some kind of joke, this child was funny in the head. Her father wasn't here at
all except in her own imagination. It was all a game of pretence, she had run
away from home, dodged school and come to indulge in her own make-believe
games in Droy Wood. Her mother wasn't dead, just morbid childhood fantasy.
They might be, probably were, searching for her at this very moment. CHILD
GOES MISSING IN DROY WOOD. SEX KILLER STILL AT LARGE. MASSIVE POLICE HUNT.
'All right, I'll come and meet your daddy.' Better humour her for the moment
and then I'll grab hold of her and I won't let her go until the police arrive,
if they arrive.
Cautiously Thelma approached the edge of the pit. It was deep, she couldn't
see the bottom yet. Sheer sides of thick black mud. Possibly it was a peat
excavation after all but how the hell did diggers get up and down without a
ladder? There certainly wasn't a ladder in sight now. No, her father couldn't
possibly be down there. Pretend for the moment that he is, though.
Mentally measuring the depth as she saw more and more of those steep sides.
Ten . , . eleven . . . twelve feet and we haven't reached the bottom yet.
Fifteen . . . black brackish water in the bottom because this whole place was
nothing more than a wooded marsh that eventually the sea would erode and
reclaim.
She could see the bottom all right now, holding back a yard or so from the
brink, nervous like her mother used to get in the days when they used to go on
family holidays and her father used to park the car overlooking a steep
headland. 'Don't get too close, Frank, or else we might go over.'
A surface of water some twelve feet in diameter, impossible even to guess its
depth. 'Your father's not here, Elsie.' And then she noticed something
floating, half-submerged in the water.
She stared, wished that she hadn't, wished she had refused to come anywhere
near this dreadful place. An arm casually flung out, a twisted leg protruding
. . . a head, the orifices black cavities as though fierce deepwater pike had
fed and bloated themselves. A hairless skull, the flesh greenish with
decomposition or gangrene.
A body! Thelma Brown screamed, lurched and almost fell, was going to be sick
at any second, would probably have thrown up except that her stomach was
empty.
There's somebody down there,' she said turning to the child who was now at her
side. 'Somebody who has been dead for a long time.'
'I told you my daddy was down there but you wouldn't believe me.' A mild
reprimand. 'I kept on telling you my daddy was in the garden.' Not a hint of
grief or revulsion, more than an acceptance of a gruesome fact, almost a
gleeful statement. 'Now do you want to see my mummy's grave?'
'No!' Thelma swayed, closed her eyes. 'I do not want to see anybody's grave.
That man in there, if it is a man, has been dead for a very long time. We
shall have to report it to the police.' And for Christ's sake where are the
police?
'It's my daddy.' Stubborn, sullen.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'No, it's not, don't be silly.'
'It is!' Elsie shouted, stamped her feet.
'All right, it's your daddy.' Thelma closed her eyes momentarily. 'How did he
come to fall in there?'
'I pushed him in!'
Thelma's heart stalled, charged up into a faster gear. No, it couldn't be.
This girl was mentally subnormal. She had found the corpse, invented this
story and was determined to live it out. It wasn't healthy. She's likely to
fiy into a tantrum so I'd better continue to humour her.
'All right, you pushed him in, but what on earth for?'
'Because he killed my mummy. Her grave's just over there.'
God almighty, this was getting crazier by the second! I've looked at your
father but the last thing I want to see is. . '
'Look, there!'
Thelma turned her head, saw the fresh mound of soil only ten yards away. She
swallowed, tried to will it to disappear, just to be a heap of soil. But it
didn't and it was a grave, A crude wooden crucifix at the one end, a macabre
wreath weaved out of rushes.
'I'm making another wreath.' Elsie said. That one isn't much good, I did it in
too much of a hurry because I wanted to put something on the grave. My daddy
didn't like it. He was going to kill me too.'
'How awful!'
'He had another woman. He was going to run away with her but first he had to
get rid of mummy. So he brought her for a walk in here to help him get some
firewood and then he hit her with the axe, chopped her up into tiny pieces.
But at least he buried her.'
Thelma heaved. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. The girl ought to be taken home
to her parents (they were still alive somewhere), or else taken into care. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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'I miss my mummy.' A note of sadness, almost a sob. 'I loved her.'
'How long's she . . .'
'A few days. Would you like to see her grave?'
No, I wouldn't. 'Sometime perhaps but hadn't we better go and meet your daddy
first?'
'I suppose so.'
The other's mood had changed; sullen, those cold fingers detaching themselves
from Thelma's, walking faster, striding on ahead.
The wood was not quite so boggy here, the ground a thick carpet of dead leaves
which had gathered over the years, the permanent smell of decay almost
overpowering. A wide space, perhaps the trees here had been felled at some
time or other or else they had just blown down and rotted. Ahead of her Thelma
saw what appeared to be a huge circular hole in the ground, a pit of some kind
that had once been dug out manually because there was a large mound on the
opposite side. It grew weeds and moss so the excavation had been a very long
time ago. She wondered what on earth anybody would want to dig here for.
'They used to get peat from here a long time ago, when my daddy was a little
boy.' Elsie appeared to have the uncanny knack of being able to read your
thoughts. If her father had been here as a boy then they couldn't live in
Page 46
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
those new houses.
'You live around here then?' A direct question; perhaps too direct.
'Sort of.'
What's your other name? What's your daddy do for a living? And just where do
you live? Thelma checked her curiosity. She would find out soon enough.
'My daddy's down there.' Elsie had run on ahead, was standing looking down
into the deep hole.
Thelma halted, a sudden inexplicable terror gripping her, a tremor in her
voice when she spoke. 'Whatever do you mean . . . down there!'
'Down there!' Impatience, a tiny finger stabbing down at the hole. 'If you
don't believe me come and look for yourself. I thought you wanted to meet him.
I've brought you specially.'
'All . . . right.' Thelma Brown's legs felt suddenly rubbery. Perhaps it was
some kind of joke, this child was funny in the head. Her father wasn't here at
all except in her own imagination. It was all a game of pretence, she had run
away from home, dodged school and come to indulge in her own make-believe
games in Droy Wood. Her mother wasn't dead, just morbid childhood fantasy.
They might be, probably were, searching for her at this very moment. CHILD
GOES MISSING IN DROY WOOD. SEX KILLER STILL AT LARGE. MASSIVE POLICE HUNT.
'All right, I'll come and meet your daddy.' Better humour her for the moment
and then I'll grab hold of her and I won't let her go until the police arrive,
if they arrive.
Cautiously Thelma approached the edge of the pit. It was deep, she couldn't
see the bottom yet. Sheer sides of thick black mud. Possibly it was a peat
excavation after all but how the hell did diggers get up and down without a
ladder? There certainly wasn't a ladder in sight now. No, her father couldn't
possibly be down there. Pretend for the moment that he is, though.
Mentally measuring the depth as she saw more and more of those steep sides.
Ten . , . eleven . . . twelve feet and we haven't reached the bottom yet.
Fifteen . . . black brackish water in the bottom because this whole place was
nothing more than a wooded marsh that eventually the sea would erode and
reclaim.
She could see the bottom all right now, holding back a yard or so from the
brink, nervous like her mother used to get in the days when they used to go on
family holidays and her father used to park the car overlooking a steep
headland. 'Don't get too close, Frank, or else we might go over.'
A surface of water some twelve feet in diameter, impossible even to guess its
depth. 'Your father's not here, Elsie.' And then she noticed something
floating, half-submerged in the water.
She stared, wished that she hadn't, wished she had refused to come anywhere
near this dreadful place. An arm casually flung out, a twisted leg protruding
. . . a head, the orifices black cavities as though fierce deepwater pike had
fed and bloated themselves. A hairless skull, the flesh greenish with
decomposition or gangrene.
A body! Thelma Brown screamed, lurched and almost fell, was going to be sick
at any second, would probably have thrown up except that her stomach was
empty.
There's somebody down there,' she said turning to the child who was now at her
side. 'Somebody who has been dead for a long time.'
'I told you my daddy was down there but you wouldn't believe me.' A mild
reprimand. 'I kept on telling you my daddy was in the garden.' Not a hint of
grief or revulsion, more than an acceptance of a gruesome fact, almost a
gleeful statement. 'Now do you want to see my mummy's grave?'
'No!' Thelma swayed, closed her eyes. 'I do not want to see anybody's grave.
That man in there, if it is a man, has been dead for a very long time. We
shall have to report it to the police.' And for Christ's sake where are the
police?
'It's my daddy.' Stubborn, sullen.
Page 47
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'No, it's not, don't be silly.'
'It is!' Elsie shouted, stamped her feet.
'All right, it's your daddy.' Thelma closed her eyes momentarily. 'How did he
come to fall in there?'
'I pushed him in!'
Thelma's heart stalled, charged up into a faster gear. No, it couldn't be.
This girl was mentally subnormal. She had found the corpse, invented this
story and was determined to live it out. It wasn't healthy. She's likely to
fiy into a tantrum so I'd better continue to humour her.
'All right, you pushed him in, but what on earth for?'
'Because he killed my mummy. Her grave's just over there.'
God almighty, this was getting crazier by the second! I've looked at your
father but the last thing I want to see is. . '
'Look, there!'
Thelma turned her head, saw the fresh mound of soil only ten yards away. She
swallowed, tried to will it to disappear, just to be a heap of soil. But it
didn't and it was a grave, A crude wooden crucifix at the one end, a macabre
wreath weaved out of rushes.
'I'm making another wreath.' Elsie said. That one isn't much good, I did it in
too much of a hurry because I wanted to put something on the grave. My daddy
didn't like it. He was going to kill me too.'
'How awful!'
'He had another woman. He was going to run away with her but first he had to
get rid of mummy. So he brought her for a walk in here to help him get some
firewood and then he hit her with the axe, chopped her up into tiny pieces.
But at least he buried her.'
Thelma heaved. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. The girl ought to be taken home
to her parents (they were still alive somewhere), or else taken into care. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]