Ghost Wall(28)

The drums beat. The chanting began. I didn’t join in this time but stood before them, bound and yet now no longer afraid or ashamed. Here I am then. So kill me.

They put a fresh flint blade to my hairline. There on her face for the shame of it maybe, I remembered Dad saying. Dad took his hunting knife to my arm, looked me in the face as he pressed down. Here and here, just done for the pain like. I held his gaze. The moon rose, full. They came at me with sticks raised and I lost my balance and fell on the water’s edge, was set on my feet again for more. For as long as I could, I watched the infinitesimal progress of the moon along the darkening sky, listened to the calls of the last birds crossing the cool of the evening. There was pain. They had a pile of stones, ready.



Molly brought two policemen as well as Trudi. I was still standing with the bog at my back which meant that I saw the torches coming up the moor and said nothing, gave no warning. Which meant that it was my fault when they arrested Dad.





TRUDI AND MOLLY untied the ropes. They had brought a blanket to wrap around me, although I was not cold, and they led me away, the light of Trudi’s torch scrolling the path ahead as the sun, at last, left us to the dark and the moon. It’s over, Silvie, said Molly, we’re looking after you now. Angry male voices came on the rising wind.

A police car and a small red car sat by the gate where the moorland track came down to the lane. Here, said Trudi, Molly, would you sit in the back with Silvie? If you’re all right with it, Silvie, we’ll just pop you round to the doctor now, he’s waiting to check you over, and then I’m taking you back to my house for the night. You’ll have to share with Molly but you’ll be safe and dry. It’s dry outside, I thought, but I said what about Mum, and my dad, he won’t like it. And I don’t need a doctor, really, I’m fine. Someone will tell your mum, said Trudi, and as for your dad – well, he should just be glad to know that you’re being cared for. Don’t worry about him. The doctor’s no bother, he’s already been called, might as well have him look at you. It might help later, Silvie.

Molly and I hadn’t fastened our seat belts and we bumped and leaned together as Trudi flung her car around corners and over hills. No, I said, I don’t want to, I don’t need anyone looking at me. Are you quite sure about that, Silvie, said Trudi. Are you sure there’s nothing you might wish we’d recorded, later? Someone cut you, didn’t they, and I saw a stick in that boy’s hand. Pete, I said, that was Pete, Dan left, quite early. Before the – the knife. Yeah, I’m sure. The car swung again, lurched. Molly put her arm around me. You’re OK now, she said. I went to the phone box and called my mum and she said call the police and find Trudi. What will the police do, I said, to my dad? Trudi glanced back in the dark. Whatever they think best, she said, Molly did the right thing and it’s out of our hands now. Branches and green leaves stood out spotlit as we rounded a corner. We slowed, turned, bumped along uneven ground. The handbrake squawked as Trudi pulled it up. She turned off the engine but left the lights on as she said Silvie, people will be asking you this again in the next few days but I have to ask you one more time, how much did they hurt you, apart from those cuts did anyone touch you in ways you didn’t like or didn’t want? No, I said, no, there was nothing, they did ask me and I could have said no. Are you quite sure about that, she said, because you know in some cases we might want to take some samples, to do an examination, before you get in the shower? We can go over to the surgery right now, it won’t take long, I could do the exam myself if you prefer. No, I said, no, there was nothing like that. He’s my dad. I don’t need to see a doctor. Yes, Trudi said, if you’re certain, if you’re quite sure.

In her untidy sitting room, Trudi took out her midwife’s bag and cleaned the cuts on my arm with something that stung. Close your eyes, she said, the one here doesn’t look too bad. She handed me a white cotton dressing like a sanitary pad. Apply pressure, she said, the bleeding’s pretty much stopped anyway, I’ll dress those properly when you’ve had a shower, don’t think we need stitches. They hurt again, blood trickled, when I took a shower in Trudi’s pink bathroom, raised my stiff arms to wash my hair in some stuff with a grown-up smell. I craned to see in the mirror the marks on my back fading, and the soft cream towel barely hurt my legs although my arm left smears of blood on it. There were sore patches now on my wrists and maybe some bruises coming but Trudi was right, the cut on my face was barely there at all, a red biro line already taut. I wrapped the towel around me when she knocked on the door and came in with a gust of cold air and a clean nightie and the dressing for my arm. I saw her glance at my shoulders but she said nothing. Here we go then, let’s get those cuts covered, shall we.

Trudi had made up a bed on the floor for Molly, beside the single bed which she said was for me, and when I came out of the bathroom in the nightie, Moll sat up. Oh Silvie, she said, the marks are still there, you poor love, and she knelt and touched my thighs with her cool fingers. I looked down at her golden hair, her breasts free under a borrowed T-shirt, and she stood up and held me, her arms gentle against my back. I laid my face against her hair and thought that as I breathed in I could still somehow catch inside me the scent of her bog myrtle crown. Stay with me, I said, please, just tonight. She moved away and pulled back the worn brown duvet cover for me. Lie down, she said, I’ll be on the outside, you’ll know I’m between you and everything else, and then she curled around me, her bare legs cradling mine, her fingers at rest on my belly, her breathing warm on my shoulder, and I lay watching the full moon and then the dawn through the ivy-framed window of Trudi’s cottage the rest of that short summer night.