Now You See Her

by Heidi Perks

  ‘Oh, Charlotte.’ Audrey walked around the island and came to my side, folding her arms around me. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Maybe you’re right and Brian will be what she needs,’ she said, straightening up.

  I raked my hands through my hair. ‘I know you don’t believe that but I really don’t know what I can do when she doesn’t want me in her house. Harriet isn’t as weak as you think,’ I said, when Audrey reached for the coffee pot and refilled her mug. I held a hand over my own and shook my head.

  ‘I’ve never said weak. Fragile, maybe.’

  ‘I felt worse after being in their house.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Not just because it was so hard, but I felt this despair as I was driving home,’ I said, my voice breaking at the memory. ‘On the one hand they were both clawing at hope and desperate for me to tell them something that would give them an answer. But on the other hand it felt like there was no hope left. I walked out of there feeling like the worst had already happened.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘I know it doesn’t.’ I thought back to the dark oppressiveness of the living room and the way the walls had felt like they were closing in on me. ‘Oh God, Aud.’ I buried my head in my hands again. ‘How’s this going to end?’

  ‘Alice is going to be found,’ Audrey said, looking at me over the rim of the mug.

  ‘But what if she isn’t?’ I whispered.

  ‘She will be.’ Aud was resolute and I willed myself to believe her.

  ‘How was Tom?’ Audrey asked me after we’d fallen into a brief silence.

  ‘He’s … Tom,’ I said dismissively and then shook my head. ‘No, that’s not fair. He’s been very good, he just doesn’t always get it right.’

  ‘He’ll be trying his best,’ Audrey said and I knew I needed to change the subject.

  ‘I want you to be honest with me. Would you leave your children with me again?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’

  ‘I need you to tell me the truth,’ I insisted.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You know I would.’

  I didn’t answer as I sipped my coffee.

  ‘Charlotte,’ she said, her voice firm, ‘there are the friends you trust with your children and the ones you don’t. You are definitely one I would. You know that.’

  We had talked about it once at a barbecue at Audrey’s. She and I were both tipsy when Aud gestured towards Kirsten, a neighbour of hers who was never less than fifteen minutes late picking her children up from school.

  ‘I left the twins at hers the other day,’ Audrey told me. ‘When I went round to get them, her oldest, Bobby, was on the glass roof of the conservatory. He’d laid a mattress on the grass and was jumping on to it. Thankfully my two weren’t being so stupid. Or maybe I just got there in time,’ she laughed. ‘I won’t be leaving them with her again in a hurry. Even if my leg’s falling off I’ll wait for you to come round before I go to A & E.’

  Audrey smiled now and said, ‘I’d still wait for you first if I needed to go to hospital. If that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmured, though I wondered if she might be the only one.

  Harriet

  On Sunday morning Brian and Harriet sat in silence in the back of Angela’s car as she drove them to the hotel where they were to make a public appeal. Harriet’s stomach clenched in knots as they passed the familiar landmarks that blurred in a haze. She couldn’t have told anyone how they got to the hotel if they’d asked her. None of it seemed real.

  In the car park, Harriet looked out of the back window and saw the hotel was one of the generic boxes built away from the coast that always appeared to be filled with suited businessmen rather than holidaymakers.

  Her door was opened and she stepped out, shivering, even though it wasn’t remotely cold. Brian took her arm and with Angela on her other side she was led up the concrete steps and into the reception area.

  There was nothing attractive about the orange bricks or the mass-produced paintings that hung behind the reception desk, and the air conditioning blasted through the clinical whitewashed conference room, making her wish she had worn something warmer.

  The room was already filled with rows of people, chattering between themselves, oblivious to her and Brian. Angela pointed to the front and told her they would be sitting at the table where microphones were strategically placed and cameras facing.

  Harriet stood rigidly in the doorway. ‘I don’t think I can do it,’ she said in a whisper.

  She felt Brian move closer, could smell a fresh waft of his aftershave. ‘We can do this together,’ he said, not taking his eyes off the front of the room as he began walking her past the rows of people who lulled into silence when they saw them approach.

  A flash of light made Harriet startle as journalists began snapping photos of them before they’d even sat down. ‘Come and sit over here,’ Angela told her as she directed Harriet to a chair.

  ‘Are you going to be next to me?’ she asked.

  Angela shook her head as she gestured for Brian to sit on Harriet’s right. ‘No, DCI Hayes will be,’ she said and crouched down. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she added quietly. ‘Just remember what we spoke about earlier.’

  Harriet nodded and glanced over at the young media officer who had come to the house that morning. Kerri had told Harriet she was there to advise them both about the appeal and confidently reeled through a list that Harriet was only half-listening to.

  ‘We should find you something to wear,’ Kerri had said, looking pointedly at Harriet who in turn waved her hand towards the wardrobe. Kerri could choose something and she’d wear whatever it was. Though now she felt exposed in the thin white blouse that clung to her skin and wished she hadn’t been so vague earlier in her attempt to shut out what was happening.

  The magnitude of the next hour was overwhelming, absorbing all her thoughts. Harriet knew exactly how important this appeal was. She’d been the one sitting at home watching Mason’s parents last October and had seen the mother’s raw grief seeping from every bone in her body. But then she’d listened to the journalists who picked apart the parents’ gestures, twisting them and making suggestions. His father hadn’t looked worried enough, according to one website. His eyes had shone bright with fear as far as Harriet saw but it didn’t take long for the trolls to see him as aggressive. The mother was caught smiling at her baby when they left the news conference. Surely that meant she wasn’t affected by her son’s disappearance, one paper said.

  People who knew nothing of Mason or his family wondered anyway, ‘Do you think it was one of them?’ How frightening that the media can turn on you in an instant. So Harriet knew exactly how important their appeal for Alice was and knew it was about much more than looking for her daughter.

  Brian fidgeted next to her as she watched the room. The journalists had started chattering amongst themselves again as they waited for someone to start. A burst of laughter arose from the back before the room descended into a guilty silence.

  Brian continued to squirm in his chair as he tried to make himself more comfortable. His hands were splayed wide on the desk in front of him as if he were trying to ground himself. A night of no sleep, and his usually pristine stubble had turned into the clumsy start of a beard. The grey hairs near his mouth glinted pure white in the false light of the hotel. Her eyes drifted to his hair that tufted up on the top of his head and then down to his eyes, heavy from a night pacing the house. Despite everything he still looked effortlessly handsome, she thought. The public would like that.

  Harriet looked down at her blouse, one of its buttons straining slightly where it was too tight. She could feel herself sweating where the underwire of her bra cut into her and feared she might see a damp streak across her chest. Everyone watching would notice the difference between them. Brian had told her she looked beautiful as they all left the house that morning but she knew she didn’t. They’d see he was well turned out bu
t she had no idea what they’d make of her appearance.

  How did Brian still look the same as when they first met? She’d overheard Charlotte talking about him to Audrey once. Her friend had said she found Brian handsome but in a way that she’d easily get bored of, whereas Harriet just thought he was conventionally attractive.

  In the bookshop in Edenbridge Harriet hadn’t expected to meet the man she would marry eleven months later. Least of all the one browsing the fishing section. But when Brian asked her if she came there often, Harriet had laughed at his awkward line and was immediately drawn in by his large brown eyes and cheeky grin.

  After their first date he walked her home, taking hold of her hand and smoothly manoeuvring around her until he was on the side of the kerb. He made her feel safe and she realised she’d been yearning for a man who would take care of her. Brian was rapidly filling the hole in her life her father had left.

  ‘You are so beautiful, Harriet,’ he told her under the street light outside her flat. ‘I could shout from the rooftops about how lucky I feel.’ He pretended he was going to leap on to a concrete bollard but she tugged him back, laughing, before he made a fool of himself. She had never met anyone before who was so effusive about her.

  DCI Hayes introduced himself as the crowd settled. Brian’s leg juddered up and down beside Harriet, knocking against her thigh, forcing his plastic seat into hers. She had never seen him so nervous.

  One of his clammy hands reached for hers under the desk and she could feel its wetness on her palm. He took her hand and laid it on top of the table, clamped inside his. She wanted to prise it away and put it back into the comfort of her lap, out of sight, but she couldn’t do that with everyone’s eyes on them. Did you see the mum pull away from him? they’d say.

  Instead she let his hand clutch hers tightly, burning into her skin until Brian eventually pulled away himself and placed his hands palms–down on the table. She half-expected to see a pool of sweat seep out from under them. DCI Hayes had introduced him now. It was time for Brian to speak, just as they’d agreed he would earlier.

  ‘I’ll do this, Harriet,’ he’d said firmly as he speared a piece of bacon that Angela had cooked for them. She had pushed hers away. Even the smell of it made her feel sick. ‘I will speak for the both of us so you don’t have to worry about it.’

  ‘Actually, it would be good to hear from Harriet too,’ Kerri said.

  ‘No, I’ll do the talking,’ Brian continued. ‘It’s what we’ve agreed.’

  ‘Harriet?’ Angela asked with a sideways glance at Kerri, who Harriet could see shaking her head.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Harriet said honestly. ‘I don’t know if I can—’

  ‘I don’t think you can either,’ Brian interrupted.

  Harriet looked up at Angela who raised her eyebrows at Kerri. Did none of them think she was capable? That Brian should be the one to appeal to the public? ‘I still think she needs to say something,’ Kerri had muttered.

  Brian’s voice now boomed into the room, making Harriet jump. ‘Yesterday afternoon our beautiful daughter, Alice, disappeared.’ He cleared his throat, straightening his tie with one hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said much quieter. ‘This is very hard for me.’ He glanced over at Hayes who nodded at him to continue.

  ‘One minute she was having fun at a school fete and the next she vanished.’ His voice was much calmer now as he carried on speaking and Harriet felt herself relax, ever so slightly, until he stumbled. ‘Harriet, my wife, she’s, er, well we …’ Brian hesitated, looked down at the table and then back at the sea of faces. ‘We are begging anyone who knows anything about what happened to Alice to come forward and tell the police. Anything. Please. Because we miss her so much.’ His voice broke and he bowed his head again, shaking it from side to side. ‘We want her back. We just want our little girl back.’

  Harriet stared at him, willing him to carry on speaking. That couldn’t be it. She had a lump the size of a football lodged in her throat but she knew she needed to say something, because as soon as Brian had left the kitchen earlier, Kerri had implored her to. ‘You need to speak,’ she said. ‘It’s so important they hear you too. As soon as Brian finishes you need to talk about Alice. Regardless of what he thinks is best,’ she had added pointedly.

  At the far end of the table Kerri was nodding at her. Harriet looked back at Brian, then at the crowd of strangers in front of her that were becoming uncomfortable in the silence, no doubt wondering if they could ask their questions yet.

  ‘I want Alice back,’ Harriet blurted, echoing her husband’s words as a bolt of heat flashed through her body. She could feel tears running down her face in hot, damp streaks. She didn’t know where they’d come from but now they were flowing furiously, her body heaving and jolting as she sobbed.

  Brian looked at her in alarm and for a moment both of them froze until he eventually reached an arm around her shoulders and leaned across her, telling DCI Hayes they couldn’t say any more.

  ‘We are now open for questions,’ Hayes announced, and the commotion of hands shooting into the air took the pressure off them as Brian’s grip softened.

  A tall man in the front row stood up and introduced himself then asked the detective the question they’d been told to expect. ‘Are you linking Alice Hodder’s disappearance to Mason Harbridge?’

  ‘We’ve no reason as yet to suspect that the two cases are linked,’ Hayes said, ‘but of course we are looking into the possibility.’

  ‘Have you got any other leads?’ a female journalist piped up from the back row. She had shoulder-length bobbed hair and cold eyes that hid beneath layers of make-up. She didn’t look at Harriet and seemed only interested in the detective. ‘By the sound of it there’s nothing solid.’

  ‘There are a couple of lines of enquiry we’re looking into but nothing we can divulge at present,’ Hayes said.

  Harriet’s head snapped round. She knew nothing about other lines of enquiry. What weren’t they telling her? But the questions moved on. This time a man at the far end of the room stood, introducing himself as Josh Gates who worked for the local newspaper, the Dorset Eye. ‘Mrs Hodder, I wonder if you could tell me how you feel about the fact your friend was posting on Facebook instead of watching your daughter at the fete?’

  ‘What?’ Harriet said, barely audible. She felt winded, as if someone had come along and punched her in the stomach.

  He held up his iPad as if to prove a point. ‘At the precise time your daughter went missing she left comments on friends’ posts and even wrote one of her own. Her attention was obviously elsewhere,’ he went on. ‘So, I just wondered how you felt about that, given she was supposed to be looking after your daughter.’

  She felt Brian’s body press forward, nudging against the table, certain he wanted to know more. Because if Charlotte had been on Facebook it was proof she wasn’t watching Alice and was therefore a careless mother whose children ran feral. Just like he had said.

  ‘I’m interested in what you think about your friend’s actions, Mrs Hodder,’ Josh Gates said.

  ‘I, erm, I don’t know anything about that,’ she said hoarsely, tugging nervously at her blouse. Charlotte had admitted she’d looked at her phone, but this man’s assertions made her distraction seem so much worse.

  ‘If Mrs Reynolds was—’ Brian started but DCI Hayes was already shutting the interview down, holding up his hand to stop the journalist and any more questions. Harriet wished he’d let Brian continue. She would have liked to know what her husband wanted to say.

  They were shuffled out of the hotel and back into Angela’s car where she told them it had gone as well as they could have hoped, but Harriet wasn’t listening. Her head was spinning with what the last journalist had said, and now her window of opportunity to reach out to the world was over. Harriet didn’t know if she was supposed to feel something, know if she had done enough even, but she just felt numb and exposed, and had no idea what would come next.

  NOW


  The air conditioning whirs slowly in the corner but it doesn’t generate enough breeze to cool down the room, yet instead of taking my cardigan off I find myself wrapping it tighter around my body. I don’t want DI Rawlings seeing the vibrant blotches of red on my chest: the unmistakable marks of nerves. Pulling the woollen belt around my waist, I hold its ends between my fingers, rubbing them the way I did with my comfort blanket as a child.

  ‘Let’s talk a little more about your friendship with Harriet,’ the detective says. ‘You said that even though you were close friends you didn’t get together with your partners?’

  I shake my head. ‘Hardly ever. There was only one occasion I remember Brian coming to my house and that was when they came to a barbecue.’ I don’t offer any more. I barely spoke to Brian as I played host, skirting around groups of friends with offers of drinks and platters of kebabs. I didn’t rest until everyone had eaten and by then Harriet and Brian had already left.

  I wonder if DI Rawlings is sceptical we didn’t do more together, because it is hard to read her. Her blank expression could be disbelief or dislike for me, I have no idea. But this was the case. Harriet and I met up during the day when we had the little ones, which suited us both. I had no need to integrate my new friend into the beginnings of my failing marriage and I liked that I had someone I could talk to who didn’t know Tom. It meant she was solidly in my corner. With Harriet I could tell her how it was and I wasn’t judged. I was listened to and sympathised with and on occasion I would make it a whole lot worse than it was just because it was nice having someone tell me they felt for me.

  And yes, I admit I had no desire to spend time with Brian. I recoiled when Harriet told me that every night after Alice had gone to bed they would sit down together in the kitchen and discuss their days. How he would tell her the intricacies of his job in insurance and in return show much interest in her day with Alice. I couldn’t tell you what Tom’s job actually required him to do and I doubt he had any idea if I’d taken the children swimming in the last week or if it was months ago. Harriet and Brian’s marriage always felt a little too twee for me.