Page 5 of The Woods

“Nonsense. I insist.” She’s not sure why she’s insisting, other than the fact that it’s the polite thing to do and her conditioning runs deep. She barely even knows the woman and would really rather keep unpacking.

“Well, okay then. Just one quick glass.”

Stepping into the kitchen, Alice stops herself from gasping out loud. Piles of dishes and scattered stemware cover the island, along with a few ominous drops of blood, and empty cardboard boxes and packing paper litter the floor. Geoff is nowhere in sight. She bites the inside of her cheek to quiet the rage that flares inside of her.

“You’re right in the thick of it, aren’t you?” Sabrina says with a cheerfulness that is in drastic contrast with what’s going on inside of Alice.

“Yup,” Alice forces herself to respond. “This is what day two of move-in looks like I guess.” When your husband is useless, she silently adds.

She doesn’t have to look far for the Champagne flutes. They’ve been unpacked and are sitting out at one end of the island. She uncorks the bottle with a loud pop just as her mother comes into the room.

“Ahh, exactly the sound I want to hear when I enter the room,” her mother says.

Alice reaches for a third Champagne flute. “Mom, this is Sabrina, the realtor who sold us the house. She brought Champagne.” Alice holds up the bottle.

Her mother offers a hand to the realtor. “Beverley. Lovely to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you as well, Beverley,” the realtor replies in an equally put-on voice. “How are you enjoying the granny suite so far?”

Beverley waves a hand at the realtor. “Not one bit when you call it that. I’m old but I’m no granny.” The two women laugh together as Alice pours three glasses of Champagne.

Alice doesn’t disagree. Her mother is an artist—eccentric, bohemian, and narcissistic—and hasn’t got a maternal or grandmaternal bone in her body. Even in that moment Alice feels like a wilted weed standing next to her mother, whose white hair is pulled back into a perfect French knot showing off turquoise earrings, with a slash of red lipstick on her mouth to complement the colorful tunic she’s wearing, a purchase from her last trip to Mexico. Beverley always looks like this, even on moving days, even when painting and sculpting, or even while picking Alice up from school when she was a child, which only ever happened if she was sick or injured. Her mother is part of that club of perfect-looking women, but that fact never helped Alice get into it.

“In truth, though, I’m very grateful for my new accommodation. It’s just perfect for me and my cats. I would have been homeless if Alice hadn’t found this place.” Alice’s mother leans in closer to Sabrina, as though she’s about to tell her a secret. “I’m not sure if Alice told you but I sold my house and bought into a new retirement community that went belly-up in the middle of construction. I lost my deposit and a place to live.”

The realtor puts a hand to her chest and gasps dramatically. “My goodness. That’s awful. I guess this move was meant to be then. Wasn’t it?”

“You’re right, Sabrina, finding this place really was meant to be.” Alice passes around glasses of Champagne. “Let’s toast to new beginnings, shall we?”

“To new beginnings,” Sabrina says enthusiastically. They all clink glasses and are silent while taking sips. “I’m just so glad that you could all look past the morbid history of the place enough to make it your home,” she adds, putting her glass down on the island. “And not just because of my commission.” She laughs too loud at her own joke. “But seriously, this place deserves a second chance. It’s a great house! Who doesn’t love a Craftsman-inspired bungalow!”

Alice wants to shove a dishcloth into the woman’s mouth to make her stop talking but it’s too late, she’s already said too much. Hopefully Alice’s mother didn’t catch it.

“Morbid history?” her mother says with a twinkle in her eye.

Sabrina’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t tell her about the Justine Gordon case?”

Alice imagines knocking the woman out with the Champagne bottle. “No,” she replies flatly, hoping the woman will get the hint.

“Who’s Justine Gordon?” Alice’s mother grabs her phone off the counter and starts to google the name.

“Oh dear,” Sabrina says with a cringe that doesn’t create any wrinkles on her forehead. “I think I’ve let the cat out of the bag.” She pushes her Champagne glass away. “Maybe best if I go and let you two get on with your unpacking.”

Alice had decided not to tell the kids or her mother about what had happened in the house. She only told Geoff because he had to sign the paperwork, otherwise she would have kept it from him too. Isn’t that what good mothers, wives, and daughters do—protect their family from the unpleasant? Clean up all of the messes—the puke, the shit, the rotting food in the refrigerator, the shards of their broken family? Yes, she had moved them all to a house with a tragic history, but it wasn’t their tragic history; it was somebody else’s. And they were no longer living in a place riddled with daily reminders of Lucy, reminders of the greatest tragedy any of them had ever experienced. She’d taken care of that too.

“She murdered her husband and two sons,” Alice’s mother says with a flourish that could be excitement or horror, Alice can’t tell. “I remember this case being in the news, but I had no idea it happened here.” She continues reading, mumbling bits and pieces of it under her breath.

“Thank you again for the Champagne,” Alice calls after Sabrina, who’s making a quick getaway.

“My pleasure,” she calls back, without turning around. “Good luck with the unpacking.” The front door slams.

Her mother finally looks up from the phone. “Alice Louise, that is some secret to keep.”

“I was trying to spare you,” Alice snaps. As if she’s done something wrong when all she was trying to do was protect them. “What good does it do anyone to know that a woman murdered her husband and two sons here? None.”

Behind her, Polly gasps. “A woman murdered her husband and two sons here?”

“I didn’t say that!” Alice yells, sounding far too defensive. She hadn’t noticed her daughter enter the room.