though. She knew most of the locals but this one was a stranger to her. They were building some new houses just outside the village, though, on the city side. Perhaps she came from one of those. She had to because no local would go anywhere near the wood, particularly when the mist covered it.
'My daddy's back there,' she said pointing vaguely behind her. 'It's quite a way, it'll take us ten minutes to walk it.'
'That's OK. What's your name?' 'Elsie.'
'That's nice.' It's old-fashioned, too. People don't use names like that these days. Still, what's in a name?
'Come on then.' Elsie stretched out a hand.
Thelma took it, felt icy cold fingers entwining with her own, transmitting a shiver. The child was deathly cold. 'You're cold. You ought to wear more clothes or else you'll be catching your., (death). you'll be catching pneumonia.'
'I'm all right, I'm used to it.' Her voice was husky, almost as though she had a sore throat. 'It's not really cold, it's just the damp fog.'
Elsie was pulling on Thelma's hand, overtaking her as though there was some sudden hurry.
'What's your daddy doing in the wood?' Serve me right if she told me to mind my own damned business.
A pause, clearing her throat. 'He's always in the wood these days. You'll see for yourself soon, though.'
They walked on in silence, a slight uneasiness creeping between them.
'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 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.
'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
