The Shadow House(86)

Layla frowned. ‘By sending boxes? With dead animals inside?’

‘I didn’t kill them. They were already dead.’

‘Oh, Amy.’ Layla looked like she was all out of words.

‘I think she got the mailing stuff from Kit’s office,’ I said, quietly. ‘There are heaps of packing materials in there, and the door is never locked. Same with the doll. There’s gauze and candlewax in the dry goods store; I saw Maggie getting some. Turns out she saw Amy’s handiwork and decided to copy the idea for her solstice gifts. The red stuff on my wall … I don’t know. Corn syrup and food colouring?’

Amy gave a small nod.

‘And the symbol? The carvings on the trees in the woods? That was all you?’

Amy shook her head, her eyes wide. ‘Not all me. The other kids do that, too. It’s a game we play.’

‘What about coming into my house and taking my photo frame. Was that a game, too?’

Amy stiffened and clammed up again.

‘Oh my god, Ames.’ Layla covered her face with her hands. ‘Why would you do any of that?’

‘Because she believed Bess Hassop’s story,’ I said.

‘What story?’ said Layla.

‘The Pine Ridge witch. Amy thought that by sending the boxes in the right order, the witch and her monsters would come and take Ollie away, just like they took the boy on the farm.’ I thought of Jenny and a lump formed in my throat. ‘If Ollie was gone, then she would feel safe.’

‘Wait, what?’ said Layla. ‘That’s where the witch story comes from? Bess Hassop? The old woman from up the road?’

I nodded.

Layla turned back to her daughter. ‘And you believed it?’

‘No.’ Amy looked mortified. She held my gaze for a second, and then her eyes returned to the ground. ‘Well, not really. I just thought you might get scared and go away. And if the witch really did come, then …’ She shrugged again.

‘Bess said it would work, didn’t she?’ I said. ‘Bess said it would happen.’

Things arrive. And then they take you.

‘Amy,’ said Layla, shaking her head. ‘You sent us those things, too. You left them for your sister.’

Amy hesitated. Her chin trembled. ‘I just wanted her to stop,’ she whispered. ‘I just wanted her to be nice.’ And then she turned to her mother, wrapped her arms around her neck, and cried.





ALEX





42


On paper, Christmas at Pine Ridge was perfect.

The kids and I had a tree, decorations, food and gifts; stockings and crackers and crap jokes (Who’s Santa’s favourite celebrity? Beyon-sleigh!). Our kitchen was stocked with mince pies and traditional Christmas cake and plenty of Prosecco for me, and, down at the hall, the big lunch was ready to go. The decor team had gone wild for the fake winter theme – everywhere you looked there were paper icicles, snowflakes and dustings of canned snow – and my fellow food-preppers and I had more than delivered with a huge spread of salads, cheeses, homemade preserves and plates of baked veg straight from the greenhouses. We had a seafood platter, roast chicken and ham, a Christmas cake, brandy pudding, a gigantic strawberry pavlova, freshly baked bread, locally made butter – and, of course, plenty of lentils. Poor Paul had even been roped into dressing up as Santa (with special guest Al the pug in a tiny reindeer outfit).

But in the days since the solstice party, the atmosphere had changed. Between Maggie’s collapse and Amy’s boxes, the village was abuzz with gossip. So far, we’d managed to keep a lid on what had happened at the farmhouse, but with everyone talking about Amy and the ‘witch’, it was only a matter of time before someone caught wind of it; that was just how small communities worked. So Jenny was living not only in a state of renewed grief but on a knife’s edge, like a fugitive caught in a dead end. The look on her face when I’d asked about her plans for Christmas made me feel so sad, I immediately invited her to spend the morning with us – but now I was starting to think maybe it was all a bit too soon.

‘Woah, thanks, Mum!’ said Ollie, ripping the paper off his brand-new PlayStation 4. ‘This is awesome!’

Huddled on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands, Jenny made a brave attempt at enthusiasm, but it was obvious she was struggling.

The kids, however, were doing a great job of re-creating normality. Kara was her usual snuffly, snotty, sleep-stealing self, blissfully ignorant of everything that didn’t involve food or objects small enough to stuff up her nose, and Ollie had bounced back surprisingly well. After what had happened at the farmhouse, I assumed he would never want to see Jenny again, but when I floated the idea of including her in our Christmas morning, he surprised me with some next-level maturity. ‘I feel bad for her,’ he said. ‘I mean, she’s a bit mental but I kind of get it. What happened to her kid would mess anyone up. I know she was just trying to protect me. And she doesn’t have anyone else, so …’ My heart had swelled with pride.

On the floor by the tree, Ollie was unwrapping another gift. ‘A VR headset?’ he yelled. ‘Oh my god, Mum, you’re the actual best!’

I glanced anxiously at Jenny. You okay? I mouthed.

She nodded but her smile was tight, her eyes dull. My own were probably no brighter. There was a knot of unease in my chest that I couldn’t shake, as if Jenny’s heart had shattered up there in the farmhouse, and a shard of it had become lodged in mine.