The Girls In The Woods. Helen Phifer

channels and there was what looked like a dead body laid out on a steel mortuary table. Jo shivered; she hated these sorts of programmes. A small voice whispered in her head… I’ll tell you why you hate them. It’s because one day you’re going to end up on one if you don’t get away from him. She shook her head, blocking the whispering out that was echoing inside her brain. She pressed the remote to put the news back on but it wouldn’t turn over; it was stuck. She shook it then slammed it against the palm of her hand, but nothing. She took the batteries out and reinserted them… still it wouldn’t move off the damn autopsy programme. Angry now, she bent down and switched the socket off, so finally the television turned off. Cursing it, she was walking out of the room towards the kitchen to check on the chilli when a loud noise filled the entire house. It was so loud she put her hands across her ears. It was coming from the living room. Her heart raced; she didn’t want to go back in there but if he came in and saw that she’d broken the television she would pay for it. Making herself go back into the living room, she stepped into the doorway and shivered – it now felt like the inside of an ice box in there, when moments ago it had been warm. She stared at the black and white fuzzy screen which was emitting white noise so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. Goose bumps broke out all over her arms; as she forced herself to walk toward the television, she heard a voice call her name. It wasn’t his voice. This was a woman’s voice and it was coming from inside the television. Her feet did not want to move any nearer to it, but she didn’t have much choice; if he heard the racket he would come storming in and go mental with her. Running the last few steps she yanked the plug from the socket and the room was silent once more. Her hands shaking, she heard the door from the workshop which led into the kitchen slam shut.

      ‘Jo…’

      She was afraid to tell him what had just happened because he would think she was lying, and if he thought she was lying it didn’t bear thinking about what he’d do. Instead she pushed the last five minutes to the back of her mind and ran to the kitchen where she greeted him with a huge smile.

      ‘Are you hungry? Tea is almost ready. Sorry I fell asleep for so long.’

      He hadn’t answered straight away. ‘Have I got time for a quick shower?’

      ‘Yes, I think so. No, you have, you definitely have. I’ll just turn the rice down.’

      He’d walked past her and gone upstairs for a shower and she’d breathed out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t angry with her for a change. When he came back down they’d eaten in silence and when he’d told her he was tired and going to bed she’d followed him upstairs, afraid to be alone downstairs even though she wasn’t tired and didn’t want to be with him. She had no choice, because she didn’t know what was going on and she was terrified of her own house.

      Jo didn’t sleep all night. She tossed and turned – afraid that if she did doze off the woman from the mirror or the voice from the television would haunt her dreams. Finally, when it was light enough and she couldn’t stand listening to him any longer, she crept from the bed and went downstairs; he was still snoring. She picked up the phone with hands that were shaking so much she couldn’t press the buttons on the keypad and had to redial twice. There was something wrong with her – ever since he’d pushed her to the floor and she’d hit her head on the concrete yesterday lunchtime, things had been happening to her that had never happened before. She would make an appointment with the doctor and tell him that she’d fallen off her ladders whilst cleaning the windows. That should be enough to ward off any awkward questions. All she wanted was reassurance that she wasn’t losing her mind. Pots didn’t shake and televisions didn’t turn on of their own accord – well, they didn’t before he made her lose consciousness, and she wanted to know why they were now. The receptionist was surprisingly helpful which threw her off course; usually the woman had a brusque manner that made grown men quake in their shoes when they were speaking to her at the desk in the surgery. She couldn’t tell Heath she had a doctor’s appointment – he would go mad – so she would have to say she needed to nip into the village for some more coffee and milk. Opening the fridge door she poured some of the milk down the sink, leaving enough for his cereal but nothing more – at least now she had a good excuse to leave the house, even if she did have to wear sunglasses.

      ***

      Mrs Bates turned to the rowdy group of teenagers, lifting her hands in the air.

      ‘Now I know you are all quite capable of walking through the woods without getting lost; at least I hope you are. I also know that you lot make more noise than a gaggle of geese so if you do get separated from each other we’re bound to hear you. But – and this is a big but – look out for each other. This is part of your exam so let’s do it right. I hate walking, and if you mess it up and we have to come back and do all this again I’m going to not be very happy with you all. Understood?’

      They all nodded and chorused.

      ‘Yes, Miss Bates.’

      ‘Good, now let’s get going. The sooner we start the sooner it will be dinnertime. Scott, I’m watching you and Becky – if you think it’s a good idea to have a crafty fag behind a tree and I won’t know about it, you’re wrong. So don’t go sneaking off for one and setting the woods on fire with your dog ends.’

      Scott, Becky and Jessica all giggled.

      ‘As if we would, Miss. You know we wouldn’t do anything like that.’

      Miss Bates rolled her eyes at them but smiled. There was something about the bad kids that she liked. She always had done. Some of the kids in this class had had the worst upbringings imaginable. Most of their parents were addicts, criminals, dealers, or just plain useless and didn’t care for their kids. Left to fend for themselves from an early age, at least the kids had one thing going for them – they were self-sufficient and streetwise. She found it far more rewarding working with these teenagers than with the ones in the private school where she’d worked previously, where the kids were rude, arrogant and selfish. These kids might have been dragged up but most of them were honest, polite, looked out for each other and generally did as she told them.

      The walk leader nodded and they all heaved their heavy backpacks on and set off walking. Becky – who had decided to wear her new trainers with a thick black heel, the ugliest shoes Miss Bates had ever seen – soon began to lag behind. The ground was soft and the heels kept sinking into the soil.

      ‘Trust you, Becky. Why didn’t you put your old skanky trainers on? You’re going to ruin them and we’re not going to get finished until teatime at the rate you’re walking.’

      ‘Fuck off with the others then, Scott. No one told you to wait for me. I didn’t think it would be like this, did I? I thought there would be a path like the one in our woods back home – not soil, mud and leaves for ever.’

      Jessica began to giggle.

      ‘Listen to you both, arguing like some married couple. I think it’s really sweet.’

      Scott gave her the finger and Becky grinned. They could see a house through the trees.

      ‘Do you think we should go there and ask if we can use the toilet?’

      ‘Are you serious, Becky? We’ve only just set off, and not only can you not walk, but you want to pee already.’

      The rest of the group was already quite some way ahead of them.

      ‘When you got to go, you got to go.’

      ‘What’s wrong with squatting behind a tree?’

      ‘Eugh, what’s right with squatting behind a tree. It’s all right for you lot; men can just whip it out and piss anywhere.’

      Scott stood shaking his head. As much as he fancied Becky she was a complete pain in the arse. Jessica, who thought the whole thing was hilarious, was still smiling.

      ‘Just go behind that big tree, Becky. I’ll stand guard and make sure Scott doesn’t try and perv on you. You don’t know who lives in that house; it might be some crazy cat lady or a creep.’

      Becky knew