Her One Mistake

by Heidi Perks

  “Harriet had only moved to Dorset a few months earlier,” I tell Detective Rawlings. “I wanted her to feel welcome.”

  “And how did she settle into your group?” the detective asks.

  “Well.” I pause. “She didn’t, really. Whenever she came along she always looked so uncomfortable that in the end I stopped inviting her. I didn’t want her to feel awkward when it obviously wasn’t her thing.”

  Detective Rawlings’s eyebrows flicker upward and I fidget on my hard seat. “I knew she didn’t want to be there,” I say defensively. “I knew she wasn’t that keen on some of them.”

  “But you carried on your friendship with Harriet?”

  “Yes, although not so much at the start. I still chatted to her whenever I saw her, but it wasn’t until she had Alice and I had Evie that we started meeting up regularly. By then all my other friends had school-age children and were doing different things with their days. Harriet and I kept each other company.”

  Harriet had stopped me from going crazy. She became a friend at a time when I needed someone like her more than ever. When everyone else I knew could go back to work or to the gym or spend hours in coffee shops without feeling drained from a night of no sleep, and who very quickly forgot what it was like to have a newborn.

  “I wasn’t happy after Evie was born, and Harriet was a good listener,” I say. “On top of that, my marriage was struggling and I used to offload to her.” Much more so than Audrey back then, but Harriet had always been so eager to help.

  “Would you consider yourself best friends?”

  “She’s one of my best friends, yes,” I say, thinking of Aud and how the two of them couldn’t be more different. But don’t friends play different roles in our lives?

  “How would Harriet answer that?” she asks.

  Harriet would say I’m her only friend.

  “She’d say the same,” I tell her.

  I imagine what Rawlings must be thinking, but she doesn’t ask the question that hangs on the edge of her lips.

  What would Harriet say now?

  BEFORE

  HARRIET

  Brian and Officer Shaw’s murmured voices blended into the background as Harriet stared at her backyard through the kitchen window. She’d always loved the space. It was nothing like Charlotte’s—it didn’t have room for a wooden climbing frame and double swings, or a fourteen-foot trampoline and a playhouse. But she’d only ever known a life of living in flats and making do with strips of balconies.

  The backyard was the only thing Harriet had liked about the house when they’d first moved in. Five years ago, when Brian had pulled up outside the thin semi he’d bought for them, her heart had plummeted. Their move to Dorset had been sold to her as her dream—a house by the sea. Harriet had imagined opening the windows in the morning and smelling the sea air, hearing the squawk of seagulls circling overhead, maybe even glimpsing the water from a bedroom window.

  She hadn’t actually wanted to leave Kent, but Brian’s portrayal of life by the coast had finally persuaded Harriet. It was, after all, what she’d always wished for as a child. So as they followed the moving van south, Harriet warmed to the idea to the point that she allowed herself to get a little excited.

  Besides, it was their chance to start fresh. Brian was trying to put the past behind them. He’d gotten a new job in Dorset and found them a house. Her husband was making an effort, so the least she could do was try and put her heart into it too, and on the drive down, Harriet considered that relocating her whole life might not be such a bad idea. So she’d have no friends and would have to find another job, maybe none of that really mattered. If it meant them being together in her house by the sea, then it would be worth it.

  When they’d stopped outside the house, Harriet thought there’d been a mistake. They’d turned off from the coast road at least ten minutes earlier. She couldn’t even walk to the beach from where they sat in the parked car, let alone see it. She’d peered up at the house and back to Brian, who’d unclicked his seat belt and was beaming at her.

  The house was nothing like the picture in her head—the one with its large windows and wooden shutters. All the homes on this road looked like they had been squeezed in and no one had bothered finishing them. The house itself looked embarrassed by its appearance, with its peeling paint and roof tiles stained with yellow moss.

  Brian squeezed her hand. “This is it. The next chapter in our life together. What do you think?”

  It crossed her mind her husband must have known this wouldn’t be the house she’d dreamed of. But then she looked at his face and immediately felt a rush of guilt, pushing aside her worries that he was still upset with her and told him she loved it.

  She didn’t.

  Brian led her inside and showed her each of the rooms, while Harriet held back the urge to scream. Everywhere was so cramped and dark. She wanted to rip down the walls of the characterless, square rooms just to let the sunlight in.

  Yet the house was still bigger than what she’d grown up in. As a child Harriet had lived with her mum in a two-bed, first-floor flat that had overlooked a concrete park. The flat could have tucked quite nicely inside the semi twice over, so she knew she shouldn’t complain, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never be happy here.

  The back garden was her haven though, kept immaculately by its previous owners. Harriet soon learned the names of all the flowers that ran up the left-hand side along the fence that still needed repairing. It had blown inward during the winter winds and Brian was adamant it was the responsibility of the neighbor, though she knew he would end up repairing it rather than get embroiled in a disagreement.

  On warm days Harriet always took her first coffee on the patio bench while Alice played in the sandpit at the far end of the yard. “I made you a sand pie, Mummy,” her little girl would call out.

  “Wonderful, darling, I’ll enjoy that with my coffee.”

  “Do you want a blueberry on top?”

  “Oh yes, please.”

  Then Alice would totter across the grass, fixed concentration on the pile of sand, making sure it reached her mum in one piece. And Harriet would take the pie and pretend to eat it, rubbing her tummy as she laughed.

  The memory hit Harriet with a surge of dread that made her double over at the kitchen sink. She could see her baby so clearly—and yet she was gone.

  Officer Shaw’s voice broke through her thoughts and the image of Alice fractured into a thousand pieces before dissolving completely.

  “Mrs. Hodder, are you okay?” the policewoman persisted.

  Harriet turned to see the woman waving a photo of Alice that Brian had plucked out of an album. She took the photo and traced a finger over her daughter’s face.

  “This isn’t a good picture of her. She wasn’t happy here.” Harriet remembered that Alice had dropped her ice cream and Brian had stopped Harriet from getting her another one. Alice had to be persuaded to smile for the camera, which meant her eyes weren’t sparkling like they usually did.

  “We just need one to circulate. Is it a good likeness of your daughter?”

  Harriet nodded. “Yes, but—” She was about to say she’d prefer to find a better one, when the doorbell rang. She looked nervously at the officer and then through to the hallway where Brian was already emerging from the living room.

  “I expect it’s Angela Baker,” the officer said. “She’ll be your FLO. Family Liaison Officer,” she added when Harriet looked blank.

  Brian opened the door to let the visitor in. The woman introduced herself as Detective Angela Baker, telling Brian he could call her Angela, a fact she repeated when she came into the kitchen and met Harriet.

  Angela had a sensible, neat, brown bob that didn’t move when the rest of her did. She wore a gray suede skirt, flat brown shoes, and a cardigan that she took off and carefully laid over the back of a kitchen chair. “I’m here for you both,” she explained. “You can ask me anything, and I’ll be your main point of contac
t so it doesn’t get too confusing for you.” She smiled again. “Maybe I can start by making us all a cup of tea”—Angela gestured to the kettle—“and we can go through everything that will help us find your daughter as soon as possible. Will you come and sit down?”

  Harriet obligingly sat at the table, blankly watching as Officer Shaw murmured a good-bye and left the kitchen. She wondered what the arrival of a new detective meant for them. Meanwhile Brian had insisted he would make a cup of tea for everyone, as he pulled out a chair for Angela.

  “Thank you very much, Brian.” She smiled at him, and Harriet immediately wondered if she shouldn’t have been so ready to let their new guest make the drinks, but she had no desire to do it.

  “So you’re a detective?” Brian asked her.

  “I am,” she said. “I’m here to keep you updated, and if there’s anything you need, you just ask. We find families prefer having one person to speak to, someone they can get to know.”

  “But ultimately you’re a detective?” Brian asked again.

  “Yes. I’ll be liaising with the officers who are looking for Alice,” she said.

  Harriet knew that wasn’t what Brian meant, but he didn’t respond as he dropped teabags into mugs, took the milk from the fridge, and gave the bottle a little shake before carefully pouring it in. They both knew Angela was also there to gather information from inside their four walls that could be fed back to the officers at the station.

  “I feel like we don’t know anything,” he said when he carefully placed mugs in front of Angela and Harriet. “Officer Shaw didn’t tell us much. We don’t even know who’s looking for Alice.”

  Brian had always had a light tan on his face and his cheeks usually wore a ruddy tinge above his neatly trimmed stubble, but right then they were drained of color. Harriet was grateful for him making conversation. If she opened her mouth she was afraid she might break down again and that wouldn’t get them anywhere.

  “Well, right now there are many officers looking for her,” Angela said as Brian joined them at the table.

  “Where are they looking?” he asked. “How many people are out there?”

  “As many as we have. We’re treating your daughter’s disappearance with the highest priority.”

  “Will you find her?” he asked, his words cracking as they left his mouth.

  “We will,” Angela replied, and she looked so certain that for a moment Harriet believed they would.

  “But you haven’t found the other one,” Brian continued. “He’s still missing after months.”

  “There’s no reason to think the two cases have anything to do with each other at this stage.”

  “But they might,” he persisted. “That kid went missing exactly like Alice, so they could be linked.”

  “Mason,” Harriet said softly. “His name is Mason.”

  They both paused and glanced at her, as if they’d forgotten she was there. Mason Harbridge wasn’t just a kid, he was a boy with a name and a mother who’d publicly fallen to pieces. Harriet knew everything about the case, having pored over the news, becoming obsessed with the story as it had unfolded bit by bit. The fact he had gone missing from a village like theirs in Dorset made it feel so close to home.

  More than once, fingers had been pointed at the parents, but Harriet didn’t believe they were involved. Her heart went out to them when she saw the press invading their lives, exposing everything about their family for the world to see. No one thought that seven months would pass and there’d still be no news of little Mason.

  “Like I said, there’s nothing at all linking Alice’s disappearance to Mason’s,” Angela said. “As far as we know, your daughter walked away from the fair on her own volition and is lost.”

  “I just can’t believe no one saw anything,” Brian seethed, shaking his head as he sat back in his chair. “There must have been crowds of people there.” He looked from Angela to Harriet. “I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all.” Brian stood up and walked to the sink, leaning his back against it and holding his hands together in front of his lips as if in prayer. “God, I mean why, Harriet?”

  “Why what?” she asked, although she knew exactly what he meant.

  “Why was Alice with Charlotte? Why wasn’t she with you? Where were you?”

  Harriet bit her bottom lip. She felt Angela’s eyes on her.

  “I was taking a class,” she said.

  “A class? What do you mean ‘a class’?” He rested his hands on the counter as if he was trying to steady himself. “Harriet?” he said again. “What class are you talking about?”

  “A bookkeeping class,” she said finally.

  He stared at her, his whole body frozen, until his lips eventually moved but they didn’t make a sound. When they did, his voice was soft. “You never mentioned a bookkeeping class to me.”

  “I did,” Harriet said slowly, keeping eye contact with him. “I told you about it last week.”

  Brian’s eyebrows furrowed deeper as he came back to the table and sat down next to her again. She could sense his confusion, but she also wanted to remind him that none of this mattered.

  “No, my love,” he said softly as he held out his hands to her, palms upturned on the table. “No, you definitely didn’t.” Harriet lowered her hands into his as his fingers curled around them. “But it’s not relevant right now, is it? Finding Alice is paramount.” He turned back to Angela. “I want to be out there looking for my daughter. I feel useless sitting here.”

  “I understand your need to be out there, but honestly, this is the best place you can be right now.” She turned to Harriet. “Tell me about Charlotte,” she said. “Do you leave Alice with her often?”

  “No,” Harriet said. “I’ve never done it before.” Her hands felt hot and sticky as she pulled them away from Brian and ran them down the front of her skirt.

  “So who would you usually leave her with?”

  “I’ve never left Alice with anyone.”

  “Never? And your daughter’s four?” Angela looked surprised. It was a reaction she was used to.

  “Harriet doesn’t need to leave Alice with anyone,” Brian interjected. “She’s a full-time mother.”

  Angela gave Brian an inquisitive look but didn’t respond. Harriet presumed that if Angela had children herself, then she probably left them a lot, especially with such a demanding job.

  “But today you needed someone to look after her?” Angela asked. “Was Charlotte your first choice?”

  “Yes,” Harriet said. She didn’t add that her friend was her only choice.

  “So is Alice happy with Charlotte? Does she know her well?”

  “She’s known her since she was born,” Harriet said. “I met Charlotte before I was pregnant.”

  “And, Brian.” Angela turned to face him. “You were fishing today? Where do you go?”

  “Chesil Beach,” he said. “But why do you need to know this? Surely I’m not under suspicion?”

  “No. It’s just crucial we build a complete picture of everyone close to Alice. But Chesil Beach is a lovely spot,” Angela said. “My dad always went there. He said there was nothing better than sitting alone on the beach with a bottle of beer and a fishing rod. Do you go alone?”

  “Yes. And I don’t drink.”

  “My father used to go out on a boat too. There’s a lovely spot just past—”

  “I never go on boats,” Brian said. “I don’t leave the beach. But if you need to verify I was there with someone, you can ask Ken Harris,” he said. “He was out on his boat today. He would have seen me.”

  Her husband had never mentioned anyone he fished with before. She always presumed he kept to himself.

  “Thank you, Brian.” Angela smiled. “And I’d like some details about your class, too, if that’s okay, Harriet?”

  Harriet nodded and stood up to get the enrollment papers from her handbag.

  “And I wonder if you wouldn’t mind getting me Alice’s toothbrush?” Angela said as sh
e jotted notes on her pad.

  “What?” Harriet stopped still and turned to look at Angela.

  “Her toothbrush. It’s just standard procedure so I have something of hers.”

  “Oh Christ,” Brian muttered, pressing the palms of his hands against the table and pushing his chair back so it screeched across the floor. “You’re thinking this already?”

  • • •

  HARRIET SLID OUT of the room, up the stairs, and into the bathroom where she could no longer hear Brian talking to Angela. Her hands shook as she clutched the sink. She knew they wanted Alice’s toothbrush for DNA. That meant they were already thinking the worst—that they would find a body instead of her daughter.

  Alice’s princess toothbrush slipped through Harriet’s fingers as she reached out to take it, tumbling into the basin.

  The two remaining ones didn’t look right on their own. His navy, pristine brush and hers with its bristles sticking out in every direction. She grabbed Alice’s brush and stuck it back in the pot. Angela could have a new one, an untouched one from the drawer. There were two still boxed in there, she thought as she ran her fingers over the hard plastic.

  “What are you doing?”

  Harriet looked up and saw two faces in the mirror. Hers was wet with tears that streamed down her cheeks in rivers. She hadn’t even noticed she had been crying. And Brian’s, whose reflection loomed over her shoulder as he turned her around to face him. Wiping away her tears with one stroke of his thumbs, he left a trail of dampness across her cheeks.

  “They need this toothbrush, Harriet,” he said, and reached over to pluck it out of the pot and take it back down to Angela.

  She stared at the empty space he left behind, wondering how he was able to function so easily. A carelessly picked photo that was probably the first one he came across and now he was readily handing over their daughter’s toothbrush. But Brian was good at holding it together. He was doing what was necessary to help the police find their daughter, meanwhile Harriet was left replaying the memory of Alice brushing her teeth that morning.