Her One Mistake

by Heidi Perks

  “Oh God,” Charlotte muttered, and all she could picture was that Harriet was planning something stupid. “Okay, tell me where you are and I’ll come meet you. Are you nearby? I can be there—” Charlotte hesitated. She had already committed to be in two different places, but Harriet came first. She would call the school and ask them to keep Molly a while longer. No, she would call Tom. He would have to leave work and collect her. “I can come over straightaway, Harriet. Are you back at home or can you get there?”

  “No. I’m not there.”

  “So tell me where you are. I’ll come to you, wherever it is,” Charlotte said.

  “I’m in Cornwall.”

  “Cornwall? What the hell are you doing in Cornwall?”

  “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  Charlotte’s grip tightened around her phone. “What have you done?” she asked slowly.

  “I had to do it and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but she’s gone, Charlotte. I’m so scared. I don’t know where she is.” Harriet let out another sob.

  “Slow down. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I had to get Alice away from him, Charlotte, I had to. But it’s gone wrong and now I don’t know where she is.”

  “Harriet, what exactly are you saying?” Charlotte’s fingers were beginning to feel numb she was clenching the phone so hard.

  “I had to get Alice away.”

  “No.” Charlotte stared at her spiral staircase. “No,” she breathed again, shaking her head. “Did you . . . Did you have something to do with it?” With her spare hand she reached out for the hallway table, which shuddered under the strength of her hold.

  “I had to,” she begged through her sobs. “I had to get away from him. But it was never meant to be like this.”

  “No. This doesn’t make sense. You’re lying to me, Harriet.”

  “I’m not lying and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I don’t know where Alice is anymore. I did, but she isn’t here and I can’t find her—” Harriet’s voice trailed off.

  “But you made me believe she was abducted. You made me think a stranger had grabbed her.”

  “I’m sorry,” Harriet cried, but Charlotte wasn’t listening.

  “You made me think it was all my fault, that I wasn’t looking after her, but all along you did this?” she spat. “I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it.”

  “I know,” Harriet said. “I know everything you’re saying is true and I’m so sorry, but right now that’s not important.”

  “Not important?” Charlotte let out a shallow laugh. “Are you kidding me? Of course it’s important. I was accused of not watching her, Harriet,” she cried. “Jesus, how could you do that? What kind of mother would kidnap her own child?”

  “I had no choice,” Harriet pleaded.

  “Of course you had a choice!” she screamed. “No one abducts their own child.”

  Harriet was silent.

  “You must have known how guilty I’d feel,” Charlotte went on. “Surely you’ve seen what everyone’s been saying about me; you can’t ignore it. How could you have done this?”

  “Charlotte, please, I’ll explain it all,” Harriet cried, “but I really need you—”

  “Tell me what happened,” Charlotte said, cutting her off. Her body was shaking with rage. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” Harriet sobbed. “That’s just it, she’s supposed to be here but she isn’t.”

  Charlotte pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. She couldn’t understand what Harriet was telling her. It was unthinkable that her friend had done this.

  “He was supposed to have answered my calls but he didn’t,” Harriet continued. “That was two days ago, and now I’m here and there’s no sign of either of them.”

  “He? Who is he? The person who took her? I’m assuming you weren’t at the fair.” She tried to force herself into a state of calm so she could piece together the story that had so many holes in it.

  Silence.

  “Who took her?” she asked again, her voice rising.

  “My father.”

  “But he’s dead,” Charlotte said, incredulous.

  “No,” Harriet said quietly. “He never was.”

  “What?” Charlotte choked the word out. “But you told me he died. Right at the beginning. In fact, the first time we met you told me your dad was dead and I felt awful because I’d been going on about mine walking out.”

  “I always thought of him as dead because that’s what my mum used to tell everyone, but actually he left us. I hadn’t seen him in over thirty years, but he turned up one day last year.”

  “This is crazy,” Charlotte cried. “Why would you lie to me about something like that? Do you have any idea how this sounds?” Charlotte was trembling again and she had to sit down. Her balled fist lay gripped tightly in her lap. “This is—” she broke off. “Has anything you’ve ever told me been true, Harriet? Do you even know what that word means?” she shouted.

  “Please,” Harriet pleaded. “I know how it all sounds, I do.”

  “And he’s taken Alice?” Charlotte went on. “I can’t even believe this.”

  “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You don’t trust anyone with Alice,” Charlotte said. “Why did you trust him? Why did you do this, Harriet?”

  “We weren’t safe,” Harriet cried. “I had to get us away from Brian and he made it impossible for me to leave him.”

  “Brian? What do you mean, you weren’t safe?”

  “I was desperate, Charlotte. He tricked everyone. He would have taken Alice from me.”

  Charlotte recalled the first time Brian had turned up on her doorstep when he was worried about Harriet’s state of mind and Alice’s safety. She’d disregarded it completely. But what if Brian had been right? Just because Harriet didn’t behave how Charlotte supposed someone would with postnatal depression, it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of doing something stupid.

  “How come you never told me?” she asked slowly.

  “I was too ashamed,” Harriet said. “He was making it seem like I was crazy, and for a long time I thought he was right.”

  Yet you’ve just kidnapped your own daughter, Charlotte thought, remembering Brian telling her he was worried because Harriet had left Alice in the car and forgotten all about her.

  “You have to believe me,” Harriet begged.

  Charlotte rested the back of her head against the wall behind her. How could Harriet expect her to believe anything she said now?

  “I’ve got no one else I can ask and I’m sorry but please, you have to help me find Alice.”

  Harriet’s fear sounded genuine, but Charlotte didn’t have any idea what to do. She listened as Harriet told her about her dad not answering her calls and the empty cottage where Alice should be.

  “But they could be anywhere. How long have you waited?” Charlotte couldn’t believe she was already trying to placate her friend, but the pain in Harriet’s voice was very real.

  “I know something’s not right,” Harriet said. “I can feel it.”

  “You need to call the police, Harriet. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “I can’t,” Harriet cried. “If I call them I have to admit this is all my fault. If I do—” she broke off. “I could go to prison. Brian would have custody of Alice, and that can’t happen, Charlotte. You have to understand, I cannot let him have my daughter.”

  “What are you asking me to do?”

  “Come here. Help me find her.”

  “Seriously—” Charlotte broke off and gave a short laugh. She couldn’t get embroiled in Harriet’s plan any further. The very idea of driving to Cornwall to aid a friend who’d betrayed her was ridiculous.

  “I’m in a place called West Aldell,” Harriet was telling her, and began reeling off the address of Elderberry Cottage. “I’ve already looked at the beach, but I’ll wait at the cottage for you.”

  “No, Harriet. You need to tell som
eone who can help you and it’s not me.”

  “There is only you.” Harriet sounded almost hysterical at the other end of the line. “Charlotte, I know you don’t know whether to believe me or not, but you have to know by now that I would do anything for Alice.”

  “Please don’t ask this of me,” she said. There was silence at the end of the phone, and for a moment Charlotte thought Harriet had hung up. “Harriet? Are you listening to me?”

  “I can’t not ask,” she whispered. “If I don’t, then it’s over.”

  CHARLOTTE

  Charlotte pulled out of her driveway and to the end of the cul-de-sac. Her shoulders ached with tension. She’d have thought the weight of her own responsibility would have shifted now that she knew it hadn’t been her fault, but if anything it was worse.

  She couldn’t get her head around the degree to which her friend had betrayed her. Her life had been pulled apart, everything she thought she knew about herself had shattered. Her friends didn’t trust her, hell, she didn’t trust herself anymore. Charlotte’s happy existence had been ripped at the seams and it was all Harriet’s fault.

  She had only ever been a good friend to Harriet, taking her under her wing when Harriet needed it most. And this is what she did in return?

  Everything rooted deep inside Charlotte told her to call Captain Hayes. She needed to extricate herself from this mess she’d already been unwittingly caught up in. As soon as everyone knew the truth, Charlotte’s name would be cleared. And it was all Harriet deserved.

  Charlotte pulled up at a red light and waited for it to turn green, slamming her hand hard against the steering wheel. She was already fifteen minutes late picking up Molly, but hopefully her daughter wasn’t as ill as the school had implied.

  She pressed the telephone button in her car, ready to redial Hayes’s number, playing out the conversation in her head. He’d suck in his breath loudly as he listened to her tell him it was Harriet who had abducted her own daughter. Then he would badger her with questions she didn’t have answers to while signaling for a raid of the cottage in Cornwall. Charlotte shuddered. She could picture Harriet waiting for her at the window, but instead of seeing her friend, Harriet would watch as a police car pulled up and officers marched to the door, ready to handcuff her and drag her to the station.

  There had been a case recently where a father had escaped to Spain with his son. He’d pleaded that the mother had abandoned her child and he was taking him back to his own country to live with his parents. Regardless, the dad was locked up for seven years. Her heart went out to him when she saw a picture of the mother. She didn’t seem remotely bothered by what her son had been through.

  Charlotte tapped the steering wheel as she waited for a mother and daughter to cross in front of her, debating what to do. Charlotte’s chest tightened as she took deep breaths. She knew as soon as she told Captain Hayes the truth, Harriet’s life would be over.

  Was that what she deserved?

  In the crossing, the little girl had stopped, letting go of her mum’s hand to pick up a gray teddy she’d dropped. The mother turned and scooped her into her arms, kissing the girl on the head as she carried her the rest of the way. Images of Harriet with Alice filled her head.

  Charlotte could hear her friend begging her to believe her about Brian.

  He’d been acting so odd two days earlier when he’d turned up at her house, and his focus on Harriet rather than his daughter had concerned her.

  But could he really be the man Harriet had described? Capable of such hidden abuse, bad enough to make her stage such an elaborate plan.

  And then there was the story Brian had told when he’d visited months earlier. When he’d calmly explained how Harriet had left Alice in the car while she renewed her passport at the post office.

  Charlotte shuffled forward in her seat, rolling her shoulders. There was something niggling her, she thought, as she absently watched the mother and her little girl. Something in the corner of her mind, a fragment of a conversation that felt important. But she couldn’t quite reach it.

  • • •

  CHARLOTTE CHECKED FOR traffic cops as she pulled up outside the school. She didn’t expect to see any at this time of day, but it wouldn’t be the first time she got caught parking illegally.

  “I’m sorry, I got held up,” Charlotte said as she ran into the office. Molly sat on a plastic chair at the far side of the room, with a bowl on her lap and a teaching assistant’s arm loosely around her shoulders. Her face was ashen, apart from the skin under her eyes that in contrast made her look like a panda.

  “Oh, Molly.” Charlotte had obviously ignored how bad she’d been that morning in her rush to get out of the house. Her daughter fell into her arms, crying louder as she did. Charlotte hugged her tight and then, holding her at arm’s length, looked into her face and wiped a stray tendril of hair away from Molly’s eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  “She hasn’t been sick,” the teaching assistant said, “but she feels very hot. You can take this with you,” she added, handing her the empty bowl.

  Charlotte placed a hand against Molly’s forehead and agreed she was very hot to the touch. “Is there anything going around?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “I’ll call the doctor,” she said. She’d usually wait twenty-four hours, but Charlotte was leaving nothing to chance anymore. Not where the children were concerned. Picking Molly up, she carried her back to the car, snuggling into Molly’s warm hair. She couldn’t leave her like this.

  On the way home Charlotte called the doctor’s office and a nurse had rung back by the time she pulled into the driveway. “Just a bug, I expect. Give her some Tylenol and get her to rest, but keep an eye on her,” the nurse told her. “If she gets worse, call back.”

  At home Charlotte laid Molly on the sofa, covering her with a crocheted blanket, and stretched out on the other one so she could watch over her for a bit while she decided what to do about Harriet. But no sooner had she lain down than her cell started ringing.

  “Charlotte? It’s Angela Baker.”

  “Oh, Angela, hello.” She’d completely forgotten to cancel her appointment with Captain Hayes. “I’m sorry. I meant to call and say I wouldn’t be able to come in.” She looked over at Molly. “My daughter’s sick.”

  “I’m sorry, I hope it’s nothing too serious?”

  Molly was sleeping soundly already. In fact, some color had already returned to her pallid cheeks. “No, I think she’ll be okay. I just need to keep an eye on her,” Charlotte said, realizing she’d need to go back to the school in a couple of hours to get the others. Maybe Audrey could bring them home.

  “Well, I hope she’s better soon. I’ll let him know you can’t make it, but he’ll probably want to call you.”

  “Of course.” Charlotte’s heart was beating so loudly she wondered how Angela didn’t hear it. She knew if she was going to say anything about Harriet, this was the time. Any later and she’d be—

  “So, can I arrange another time for you to speak to Captain Hayes? Maybe he could come to your house if you aren’t able to leave your daughter?” Angela said, interrupting her thoughts.

  She needed to tell her now. If she ended the phone call without admitting what she knew, she’d be withholding evidence.

  Yet there was still that thought niggling at her. Something wasn’t right, and if she let them take Harriet away, then what would happen to Alice? What if her friend was telling the truth?

  “That’s fine,” Charlotte said, her heart banging so hard it almost cracked through her skin. “I’ll be able to come in later.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Before I go, have you ever heard of a friend of Harriet’s named Tina?” Angela asked. “Harriet knew her in Kent.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Angela didn’t answer, and Charlotte couldn’t help asking, “Has she heard from Harriet? Do you think she knows where she is?”

  “Possibly. She may have gone back to K
ent. Somehow I don’t think she’s gone too far.”

  “Really?”

  “She hasn’t left the country, at least,” Angela said.

  The memory she’d been trying to grip on to felt closer. “How do you know?” Charlotte asked, but in that moment she already knew.

  “Harriet’s never had a passport,” she murmured at the same time Angela spoke the words.

  HARRIET

  I waited at the cottage like I’d told Charlotte I would, though I didn’t know if she would come. Five years I’ve had to confide in my only friend and I didn’t, so I doubted I’d gotten across what I’d needed to in five minutes. I didn’t know if she believed me—I couldn’t blame her if she went straight to the police—but I had no other choice except to wait.

  Had I made another grave mistake by calling her? My plan was already so feebly held together. I had proved that by the frantic way I was ripping it apart. I was becoming my own undoing and now that I’d reached out to Charlotte, I may as well have handed her the rope that would hang me.

  But I needed help, and the only person I hoped I could trust was possibly the one person I should have confided in at the start.

  The minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock as rhythmically as the metronome that had sat on my music teacher’s piano at school. Back then it had lulled me into a trance where I’d waste large chunks of the class staring out of the window, dreaming of a different life. Now with each sharp tick, a fraction of hope evaporated.

  Tick. You still don’t know where Alice is.

  Tock. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.

  I fidgeted impatiently in the armchair in the living room. I got up and paced the floorboards in the kitchen. I went upstairs and looked out the front window onto the lifeless road below. Everything was morbidly still. Even the branches of the trees were immobile, captured in a moment of time.

  How long would I wait? Hours? Days? There would come a point when I would need to do more than patter about the inside of an empty cottage. When I would need to call the police myself.

  What would be the tipping point?