His Silence - Chapter Eighteen

‘I trust Jeremiah’s told you about me,’ Oliver says, still smiling. I notice a scar above his right eye. I flick my gaze away, God I always find it embarrassing whenever I catch myself staring at people.

I nod. I don’t know why but I’ve suddenly gone cold, I glance at Callum, his eyes are fixed on Oliver’s, like he’s trying to work him out, although Oliver doesn’t seem bothered by it. ‘Um, yes, he did talk about you, a little. But he didn’t tell me a lot,' I say. 

‘I was very close to your family when you were living here. You don’t know how much this means to me to see you looking so well.’ He moves closer towards me, I flinch and move closer to Callum. ‘I’m sorry, who is this you’ve brought with you?’ Did Jeremiah not tell him about Callum?

‘This is Callum, my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were ten.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Oliver says a slight hint of disappointment in his voice. I’m pretty sure now they would’ve much preferred it if I’d come here on my own. ‘Callum, I hope you don’t mind, but I would very much like to speak to Danielle on her own. You can wait here with Jeremiah if you wish.’

Callum’s face is scrunched up. ‘Err, OK, so long as you’re OK with this?’ he asks me.

I nod. ‘Yeah, I should be fine.’

‘This way please,’ Oliver says.

I glance back at Callum; he smiles at me. I follow Oliver towards a door at the other end of the room. He opens it for me, letting me step through first. I stand still. My eyes scan the garden before me. This is the garden from my memory, where I could see myself picking daisies as a child. I eye the willow tree at the end. Beyond the bushes bordering the garden I can just about make out the marshes stretching for what seems like miles. It makes me think of tiny islands dotted around a shallow sea. I shudder, as I think of anyone trying to navigate their way through them, especially in the dark. It could very easily be a death trap.

‘Is everything OK?’ Oliver asks.

‘Yes, I . . . I remember this place, at least I think I do.’  Tears prickle my eyes as the memory becomes bolder in my mind. 

I scan the garden again, stepping forward onto the soft grass; my eyes clap on a small annexe to my right, with a green door, it’s almost like a small cottage. It wouldn’t look out of place in a Grimm fairy tale, there’s even a chimney poking out of the roof. Even though the main house is just up a little path, it feels completely cut off. I shiver.

Oliver smiles. ‘You used to spend all of your time out here,’ he says. ‘Your arrival was so special, to all of us here. We celebrated for days after your birth.’

‘I, there’s a memory I have of me picking daisies, there are a couple of women standing hanging laundry out, they’re both wearing white clothes. I’ve never been sure if the memory is real, or if it’s something I’ve made up.’

‘Ah yes, I’m pretty sure I know who you mean, they’re still here,’ Oliver says.

‘Where is everyone? I thought there were a few people staying here, there were at least ten other people in the photograph Jeremiah gave me.’

‘There are,’ Oliver says. He’s walking with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘I told them to go out this afternoon, but if you and Callum would like to stay for dinner, and you’re more than welcome to, I would love you to meet them. They’re so overjoyed you’ve come back here today. Everyone is mostly older than you and Callum, although there is one girl, Eve, who’s around your age, she joined us a couple of years ago; you’ll both probably get on with her. I told Jeremiah to stay here because you’ve already met him, and I thought it would be nice for you to have a familiar face here. I wasn’t expecting you to bring someone with you, but of course, that doesn’t matter.’ So, I was right. Even the last part of his sentence was said with a slight hint of animosity.

I swallow. ‘I didn’t particularly fancy coming on my own. I’ll have to see what Callum says, but I would . . . I think I would like to stay a bit longer.’

Oliver beams. ‘Of course, Callum sounds like a very good friend.’

I nod. ‘He is. Oliver, um, when I saw my brother, in prison, he didn’t really tell me a lot about what happened twenty years ago. He told me if I came here I would find answers. Is there anything you can tell me about what happened?’

Oliver shakes his head, my eyes fix on the scar above of his eye. How did he get it? ‘I was so upset to find out what happened to your parents all those years ago. Of course, I would’ve had you back here in a shot, we would’ve adopted you and taken care of you, but things got complicated. There did come a time when I thought I might never see you again, but then you made contact with your brother, the year you turned eighteen, and suddenly it felt as though everything had been reset for us again, that we were on the right path.’

The right path, what the hell did he mean by that? I listen to the sound of the birds chirping. It really is peaceful out here.

‘I wanted to try and get in contact with my brother before then, but my parents . . . they wanted me to wait until I was an adult. I was angry with them at the time. It caused a lot of arguments in our house, but now I realise they were just doing their best to protect me, I don’t hate them for it now,’ I tell him.

Oliver wipes his eyes. ‘Yes, it was . . . well what happened to your family was totally unforgivable. The only reason I’ve sort of maintained any contact with your brother, is because I thought you might somehow try to make contact with him one day. Your name had been changed by your parents, after you left here, and then you were adopted; it proved impossible to track you down. Gosh, that makes me sound like a stalker, but I promise you I’m not. Your parents were so valued amongst us all here; your brother was as well. He was a shining member of our community and that’s what made, what happened, even more devastating. It’s why I was so keen to get in contact with you again, and to hopefully welcome you back one day so you could learn about your history.’

‘Why did my parents leave, if they loved living here?’ I can’t stop anger and frustration from seeping into my voice. I just want answers. I’ve waited far too long and it feels like everyone’s trying to stretch things out even further for me. It’s not fair.

Oliver sighs. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, Danielle that I’m about as clueless as you are. There was someone who . . . I don’t know what he exactly said to them, but one morning we woke up and they were gone. He spread all sorts of lies about us to your parents and this had devastating consequences; if you’re looking for someone to blame for what happened to your family, I would blame him. He got them to leave. But of course, Harvey’s the one who killed them. If they’d stayed, it wouldn’t have happened.’

I run what he’s told me over in my mind. The flash of the memory I had earlier, when I entered the building, filters through again. It was Ian, the third person who Harvey killed; it must’ve been him who Oliver’s referring to. But what exactly did he say to Mum and Dad? How did he persuade them to leave this place?

‘Did you try to find them?’ I ask. ‘After they left.’

Oliver nods. ‘I did, but I wasn’t successful. When they published the pictures of your parents, after their bodies were found, I howled like a wounded animal, that’s what Jeremiah remembers. They were like a brother and sister to me, your parents. We shared the same ideals and ideas for the future. They truly were visionary, and I think you might be as well; you certainly take after your mother with your looks. She was so beautiful.’

My cheeks sting. How can he know anything about me? He hasn’t seen me for twenty years. We’ve reached the end of the garden now. We’re standing underneath the willow tree. I get a whiff of what to me, reminds me of rotten eggs, I glance again over the bush and towards the marsh.

‘What were my parents like?’ I ask. ‘All the memories I have of them are snatches at best and I’ve never been sure if they’re real or something I’ve made up.’

Oliver looks lost in thought for a brief moment. ‘Your mother was wonderful, kind, caring, always willing to do things for others, much like your brother was. Your father, on the other hand, he was more reserved, kept himself to himself. But he still helped out a lot,’ Oliver says. ‘You were a cheeky little thing when you were young, but everyone loved you. It was such a joyous moment when your mother told me she was pregnant with you. I have to say your mother really was treated like a queen and she deserved it.’

I rub my arms. ‘I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like here at that time, with everyone here.’

Oliver’s beaming at me. ‘You don’t have to imagine it, you know. There’s always a room for you here. If you would like to stay here for just a couple of nights, to see how it feels, then that’s fine too. Callum’s more than welcome.’

‘I . . . I think I’d like to, but I’d have to speak to my parents first,’ I say.

‘Of course, I totally understand.’

‘But, I think we’d both like to stay for dinner.’

‘That’s excellent; we’re having lasagne tonight, it’s a vegetarian recipe; all of the products we cook with are locally sourced, so you’re in for a treat, all of our vegetables are grown on site. We don’t cook with meat here at all. We’re very concerned about the state of the environment, and cooking meat, rearing cattle, is one of the biggest causes of climate change as I’m sure you know. I imagine, being so young yourself, this must be something that plays on your mind as well.’

I nod, and stare back towards the house. I hug my arms tight to my chest.