Her One Mistake

by Heidi Perks

  “And what did he talk to you about?”

  I take a deep breath and release it slowly. I don’t know which time I should discuss. It’s probably better to focus on the second. “Brian came to my house two days ago,” I tell her. “I told Angela Baker,” I say defensively. “She’s the liaison officer on the case. . . .” I drift off because of course she already knows this. She probably knows about every conversation I’ve had with Angela and Captain Hayes over the last two weeks.

  “Tell me about the other time,” Rawlings says. “When was that?”

  My fingers reach out for my empty glass, twitching as I grab hold of it. I need to ask her for more water but surely she’ll know I’m wasting time, most likely think I’ve got something to hide. “Six months ago,” I tell her, twisting the belt on my cardigan as tight as it can go.

  “And why did you meet up?”

  “Brian came to see me because he said he was worried.”

  “About what?” The detective leans forward.

  “He said he was worried about Harriet.” I shrug. “It was nothing much.” I rub the heel of my hand against my right eye and glance up at the clock again. “Do you know how much longer you need me here?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

  “It would be helpful if we could continue,” she says, cocking her head to one side. We fall into an apprehensive silence.

  Eventually I nod. “Brian said he was worried that Harriet was getting things wrong and forgetting things.”

  “ ‘Forgetting things’?”

  “Yes, like where she had been. It didn’t seem to be anything major.” I give a thin smile, but she doesn’t smile back.

  “Tell me what Brian said specifically.”

  I chew the inside of my mouth until I bite too hard and can taste the metallic tang of blood.

  “ ‘Specifically’?” I release another deep breath that comes out as a sigh. “He told me Harriet was suffering from postnatal depression. I thought it was ludicrous, because if all he was worried about was the fact Harriet was forgetting things he’d told her, then he only had to speak to Tom. He would tell Brian I forget most things he says because I’m not listening half the time.”

  I picture Brian standing in my backyard, running his hand across the oak table on the deck as he looked around, and I couldn’t tell if he admired my yard or loathed it.

  “I’m very worried about my wife,” he’d said. “What I’m particularly worried about is that she puts Alice in danger. Yesterday she walked off and left Alice in the car on her own. She forgot she was in there.”

  Brian stopped running his fingers along the wood and turned to look me in the eye, and I instinctively took a step back.

  “Harriet was so preoccupied with getting to the post office to renew her passport before it closed, that she completely forgot about her daughter. Charlotte, anything could have happened,” he’d said. “My little girl could have been taken.”

  BEFORE

  HARRIET

  Can I help you with that?” Angela pointed to the dishes on the draining board, taking a tea towel off the oven handle. “I always preferred drying when I was forced to help as a kid.” She smiled.

  It had been twenty-four hours since Alice had disappeared. Harriet had been trying to keep herself busy so she didn’t have to think about how their appeal for their daughter had gone. “I don’t mind washing. I’ve always liked looking out onto the garden while I’m doing it. I think I’d live outdoors if I could.”

  “Really? Where would your most favorite place to live be?”

  Harriet liked that Angela was taking an interest in her, even though she understood the detective’s underlying reasons. “By the sea,” she said. “When I was little I dreamed of living in a house at the edge of the beach. It had an open porch at the front where I could sit and read and look at the water, and a wooden path that led through the dunes to the water’s edge.”

  “Wow.” Angela rested the towel on the draining board. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Harriet shrugged. “I used to draw it in my mind. I have a picture of it that’s crystal clear, and if I close my eyes I can see every bit of it. The shimmering water, the ripples on the sand, the gaps between the boardwalk I can look through. I would picture myself sitting in a chair on the porch, looking out at the sea, imagining.” Harriet smiled. “I can imagine anything when I look at the sea.”

  “I know what you mean,” Angela said. “Though I love the forest, too. So is that why you moved to Dorset, to live by the sea?”

  “Supposedly.” Harriet quickly grabbed the scouring pad and began scrubbing the pan. If she rubbed much harder, the enamel would start chipping, but she didn’t relent. Brian had wanted boiled milk and it had left a white layer of skin on the bottom. It was easier to use the microwave, but it wasn’t a compromise Brian was prepared to make. He preferred it heated in a pan.

  “So do you swim much?” Angela asked.

  Harriet stopped scrubbing. She had momentarily lost her picture of the sea house and replaced it with the mundanity of Brian’s milk. She’d almost forgotten they’d been talking about it. “No,” Harriet replied after a beat. “I can’t swim.”

  “Really?”

  She knew this would surprise Angela. Who would want to live by the beach if they were afraid to go in the water?

  “Tell me more about moving here,” Angela persisted, but Harriet didn’t know how to open up that can of worms. She wasn’t sure this was even the right time—after all, she’d only known Angela since yesterday.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Harriet said instead, nodding at the mugs and plates that were slowly piling up on the draining board.

  Angela shook her head and flicked out the tea towel. “No, I want to help.” She picked up one of the mugs and started to dry again. “Did you always live in Kent when you were a child?”

  “Yes, I was born there. It’s pretty, have you ever been?”

  “Yes, I have an aunt who lives in Westerham.”

  “I know it. It’s lovely.”

  “And it was just you and your mum, then? After your dad died?”

  Harriet nodded. “Yes, just me and Mum since I was five. It was all I ever knew.”

  “That must have been hard,” she said. “Your dad dying when you were still so young.”

  “Yes.” Harriet paused. “I do wish I’d had him in my life,” she said. “Somehow I think I would have liked him a lot.”

  Angela smiled sadly. “And what about Brian’s mother?” she asked. Harriet looked over as Angela casually put the tea towel down and started wiping a cloth across the draining board.

  “I only met her once,” Harriet said. “Brian took me to her house a month after we met. He was so excited. He said he wanted to show me off, but his mother had no interest in me. When I left the room I overheard him telling her I was the girl he was going to marry and she laughed, told him marriage was a waste of time, and then said he had to leave because she needed to get ready for bingo. I never saw her again, and as far as I know, Brian hasn’t either.”

  “That’s very sad.”

  Harriet shrugged. “My own mum was different.” She gazed out of the window. “We used to live in a two-bed flat that overlooked a park. We didn’t have a garden and Mum hated that park. She said it was an accident waiting to happen. We saw a child fall off the monkey bars once and he laid at an angle that wasn’t right at all.” Harriet cocked her head to one side and stuck out her arm to show how distorted the boy looked. “Mum raced down there, screaming for someone to call an ambulance, shouting, ‘Where the hell is this boy’s mother?’ Thankfully he was okay, but whenever we walked past the park after that, Mum grabbed my hand and sped past it. I don’t think I ever went in it again.” Harriet stopped and looked up at Angela. “She was a funny one, my mum. I was everything she had and I thought the world of her, but she didn’t let me do a lot of things. She was always yelling at me to get down from walls that were only three bricks high in case I fell.” Harriet rai
sed her eyebrows.

  “She was worried about you. It’s what mothers do.”

  “It was more than that. She’d take my temperature every night just in case I was coming down with a fever. She was always the first mum at the school gate, and even when I went to middle school, she walked me to the bus stop because it was supposedly on her way to the shops. No one needs to go to the shops at eight thirty every morning.”

  “Why did you let her, then, Harriet?”

  “Because I knew what it would do to her if I didn’t. Like I said, I was all she had.”

  “That’s a lot to put on a child.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, it meant I spent a lot more time in my bedroom than most kids and that’s where I created my stories. These little alternative lives, like the house by the sea. Sometimes I used to dream I lived there with my whole imaginary family. Mum, Dad, and all my brothers and sisters. Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all. I had an imaginary sister. I’m one of four and the rest are boys. I was so desperate for a sister, I made one up!”

  “I was one of five in my head. We all used to sit around this big wooden table at Christmas and laugh and make fun of each other. It was chaotic, but I always had someone to talk to if things got bad. It was totally different from reality. Some of the kids at school used to say I was mad. I sometimes forgot I was in public when I was talking to my family.” Harriet smiled sheepishly.

  “You shouldn’t underestimate imagination.”

  “I didn’t want Alice to be an only child,” Harriet said, immediately wishing she could take it back. What did she expect Angela to say to that? Harriet turned back to the dishes and started scrubbing the pan again. She’d said far too much. Why had she even mentioned her imaginary family? “What are you all thinking has happened to Alice?” she asked.

  “I think the statement this morning will help us gather more intel and put together what happened,” Angela said carefully. “It’s going to make people think about who they saw at the fair, and hopefully bring them forward.”

  “So you don’t know anything yet, then?” Harriet asked. “Captain Hayes said you had some things you were looking into. Things he couldn’t divulge.”

  “We don’t have anything concrete,” Angela told her. “I’m sorry.”

  Harriet nodded and dropped the scouring pad and pan back into the sink. A patch of milk was clinging determinedly to the bottom of the pan, but she could no longer be bothered.

  “Harriet, I have to check in at the station in a bit, but I’ll come back again after lunch. I’ll be around as much as possible, but if there’s anything else you need at all, you must let me know. That’s what I’m here for.” Angela laid the cloth on the counter, her gaze resting on Harriet expectantly.

  Harriet nodded. “Thank you.” Angela had no idea how much she could talk about.

  “We’re doing everything we can to get Alice back soon,” she said. “I promise you.”

  “Angela?” Harriet looked up at the woman’s face. “What that journalist said about Charlotte, you know, on Facebook when Alice disappeared. Is it true?”

  “I believe so, but you shouldn’t read too much into it. She may have been on it for mere seconds. Try not to think about that.”

  Harriet turned and stared out the window. “I don’t know what else to think about,” she said quietly.

  • • •

  WHEN ANGELA RETURNED to the Hodders’ house later that afternoon, she had Captain Hayes in tow. They had news, they told Harriet and Brian. There had been a sighting at the fair. One of the mothers had seen an older man who’d looked suspicious, but she had apparently left the fair before she knew a little girl had disappeared. The grapevine hadn’t reached her until she’d watched the news that morning.

  “What do you mean acting suspiciously?” Brian demanded, moving in between Harriet and the detective as if sheltering his wife from bad news.

  “The woman says she didn’t recognize this man and that he was on his own, wandering about at the start of the fair.” Hayes raised his eyebrows in a way that made Harriet think he didn’t hold out much hope for the sighting. “She seemed to think there was something not quite right about the way he was circling the field. We have a sketch we’d like you both to look at.” Hayes held out a piece of paper that Brian took before Harriet got a chance to look at it.

  Brian glanced at it briefly then handed it back to the detective, shaking his head. “I don’t recognize him,” he said.

  “How about you, Harriet?”

  Her hands trembled as she reached out for the paper. She didn’t want to look at it for fear of what she’d see. What if she recognized the face Brian had so resolutely rebuffed?

  “Look at it, Harriet,” Brian said, and though he tried to sound calm, she could sense his impatience that she wasn’t looking fast enough.

  Eventually she dropped her eyes to the page. She shook her head.

  “Nothing at all?” the detective asked, though he sounded like this was the answer he’d been expecting, and the whole “sighting” was a complete waste of his time.

  Brian took it from Harriet and glanced at it again. “Maybe? There’s something oddly familiar about him, I suppose. How much older are you suggesting?”

  “Possibly late sixties,” Hayes told him. “How do you mean ‘oddly familiar’? Can you be a little more specific?”

  “There’s just something about him that looks like I might have seen him. But—” Brian shook his head. “I can’t place him.”

  “And Harriet,” he said, with the smallest hint of a sigh that Hayes had most likely not intended to let out. “Definitely not?”

  “Not at all. Sorry,” she added.

  “Don’t be sorry. It was a bit of a long shot. And I apologize for getting your hopes up too. Of course, it doesn’t mean we won’t be looking into this more,” he added, flapping the paper in the air.

  Harriet stood by the front door as Hayes left, feeling the welcome burst of outside air as it touched her face. It would be so easy to follow him. Apart from the short drive to the hotel that morning, she hadn’t been out and the walls were closing in tighter than usual. She felt trapped, like she was in a coffin and someone was hammering in the final nail. Now she had the overwhelming feeling that if she didn’t run out of the door right now, she might never be able to scratch her way out.

  “I’m going for a walk to clear my head,” she called toward the kitchen, where she could see Angela tidying the table. Brian appeared in the doorway as quick as a rabbit. Harriet grabbed her cardigan off a coat hook and slipped on a pair of shoes that were neatly tucked into the corner beside the fishing rods that still hadn’t been moved.

  “I’ll come with you, darling.” He was already reaching one arm across her for his jacket.

  “No. Please. I just need to be on my own for a bit.” She didn’t want him with her, step-by-step at her side, clutching on to her hand as he led her around the block. That wasn’t her idea of getting out and being able to breathe.

  “Harriet.” He held on to her arm like a child who wouldn’t let go of his parent. “If you go alone I’ll worry about you. I’ll feel awful if I’m left here not knowing where you are.”

  How would she ever be able to escape now? With him looking at her, that forlorn expression hanging on his face. As soon as she stepped outside the house he would follow her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  “Just let her go,” Angela said softly from behind, wiping her hands on a towel. Harriet released a deep breath that made Brian stare at her. “It will do her good,” Angela continued, nodding at Brian as she gently pulled his arm away. Harriet took the chance to step outside.

  Brian remained rigid in the hallway. She felt him behind her but didn’t dare look back. Instead she hurried down the path, running past the reporters, her heart beating fast, expecting any moment he would break free.

  She could have cried with relief as her legs carried her as fast as they could away from that house.


  CHARLOTTE

  I couldn’t face going into the office that week, and my manager quickly told me to take as long as I needed. How long would I need? I’d thought, putting the phone down on Monday morning. Two days had passed, but it already felt like weeks. There was every possibility that nothing would return to normal again.

  For the next couple of days I twisted myself into knots over what I could do to help. I walked up and down the roads that surrounded the field in hopes that I would see Alice, even though I knew my search was futile—the area had been meticulously covered in the hours after she’d disappeared.

  I called Captain Hayes and offered to find money to help the search.

  “What for?” he had asked me.

  “I don’t know, PR, any kind of publicity. I can get whatever is needed,” I said, sure my stepfather would hand over the money unquestioningly and without expecting a penny back. Funds had been set up for missing people before, appeals for contributions, surely the police would be grateful for the help.

  Hayes told me there was no need, but I was getting desperate. I called my mum and asked if she thought we could pay for a private detective, but she told me I should let the police do their jobs.

  “What can I do, Aud?” I cried into the phone. “I have to do something. I can’t sit around waiting for news.”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think your priority has to be being there for Harriet.”

  “But she won’t see me.”

  “Maybe ask Angela what you can do,” Audrey suggested, and I wondered if I could hear the tiredness in my friend’s voice or if I was imagining it. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d called her in the last few days.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” I said. “I’m sorry, Aud.”

  Instead I focused on chores that didn’t require thinking between taking Molly and Jack to school and picking them up again. I bought a new mop, a packet of dusters and spray for every surface, and I cleaned my house from top to bottom. I scrubbed the back of cupboards, emptied, cleaned, and refilled the fridge, and scraped away remnants of stickers that were still stuck to the insides of windows I’d replaced two years ago. I sorted through the children’s clothes and bought Jack a new pair of pajamas.