Wake Wood Read Free

nearest neighbour, and he was miles away. Besides, Arthur had been with him, helping and supporting him throughout the ceremony. Surely now Arthur and all the others would respect his privacy.
    The sound appeared to be coming from somewhere above him. Birds on the roof? In this gale? Or a banshee? If it was, now would be the time to look up and discover whether they really were old hags or exquisite young fairies.
    He steeled himself, leaned back and stared. A skeletal tree branch was bouncing wildly on the skylight, hitting it intermittently and lightly. So lightly, the sound was reminiscent of a child’s fingers drumming against glass – or the wings of a small plastic bird …
    He almost smiled. A sad ghost of a smile. He didn’t need prompting to recall his last moment of pure happiness. That magical early-morning hour of Alice’s ninth birthday. Would he – could he – have savoured it more if he’d known what was to come?
    He closed his eyes and turned back the days. More excited than Alice, he hadn’t even been able to wait for her to wake naturally on her birthday morning. He’d dangled a wind-up bird he’d found in a joke shop from his bedroom window down to hers, a floor below. The bird’s wings had beaten against the glass. Tap … tapping … tap … tapping … the same light staccato the branch was pounding now against the skylight.
    He creased his face against the pain, as Alice’s voice – sweet, high-pitched in excitement – echoed in his memory.
    ‘Mum … Dad …’ First her shout, then a thud as her feet had hit the floor when she’d leapt out of bed. A light patter as she’d raced to the window. He and Louise had stayed up until the early hours, blowing up balloons and stringing them and the banner he’d ordered from the signwriter across the garden outside Alice’s window.
    HAPPY NINTH BIRTHDAY, ALICE .
    He hadn’t been there, but he’d imagined the look on his daughter’s face when she’d seen it for the first time.
    When he’d heard Alice racing up to the master bedroom, he’d pulled the bird back in through the window and returned to bed, jumping in and covering himself with the duvet seconds before she’d burst in.
    Alice had never moved slowly. She’d only had one speed – headlong – always in a rush as if somehow she’d sensed that time, for her, was in short supply. She’d dived on to the bed and landed on top of him, her black shoulder-length hair flying behind her, her dark eyes glittering with excitement.
    He’d hastily stuffed the bird under his pillow and hugged her, revelling in the feel of her slight body pressed against his. Flesh of his flesh. Her heart beating against his, her skin soft, velvet smooth, he’d caressed her face and run his hands through her fringe, combing it back from her forehead with his fingers.
    Overwhelmed by love, he’d held her at arm’s length so he could look into her eyes. ‘Do you like the banner?’
    Alice had kissed his cheek and returned his hug, wrapping her small arms around his chest. ‘You and Mum are silly.’
    ‘Really?’ He’d feigned indignation.
    ‘I heard you moving around, making noises in the night. What were you and Mum working on so late apart from balloons and “happy birthday” signs?’
    ‘I had a night call. A great big hairy dog sick with a blocked intestine, which is …’ he’d tickled her stomach through her ruffled turquoise pyjama top, ‘exactly here. He was your kind of dog. Big and noisy!’
    Alice had giggled. ‘I’m not big and I’m not noisy. But I am nine years old from today.’ Her smile had been irresistible, disarming. He’d have given her the world if it had been his to give and she knew it. ‘So …’ she’d wheedled.
    ‘It’s no use trying to charm me, honey,’ he’d teased. ‘You know Mum’s rule about birthday presents. No gifts to be given or opened until after school.’
    Her face had fallen.
    ‘Is that OK?’ he’d checked, knowing it wasn’t and