by Heidi Perks
‘George is asleep,’ Harriet says, frowning as she nervously checks her watch. ‘He’s already been down two hours. He’ll probably wake soon.’ Charlotte remembers those days like they were yesterday – she can’t tell if Harriet’s desperate for George to wake up or desperate for him not to. ‘I was pleased to hear from you,’ Harriet goes on. ‘But now you’re here I have a feeling this isn’t a friendly visit.’ She tries to laugh but it is a nervy sound that comes out.
‘No, maybe not,’ Charlotte admits. ‘I’m struggling.’
Harriet nods. ‘Because of what you said to the police?’
‘That’s part of it.’
‘Do you think you did the wrong thing?’ Harriet’s gaze drifts away as she prods a slice of cake with a small fork, sending tiny crumbs flying across the plate.
Charlotte sighs. ‘I never thought I was capable of what I did. It makes me feel guilty. And afraid. I’m afraid that one day it will all catch up with me.’
‘That can’t happen now,’ Harriet says.
‘No, maybe not, but it doesn’t stop me thinking it. I don’t even know who I am any more.’
‘What do you mean? You’re still the same person.’
‘No. I’m not,’ Charlotte replies flatly. ‘I’m not the same person at all. I do things now that are so out of character,’ she says. Tom wouldn’t believe her if she told him how she’d almost interfered in that couple’s argument. ‘I’m so far from that person and it scares me because I liked the old me.’
‘But what’s actually changed?’ Harriet asks. ‘Your life’s still the same. You have the same group of friends and live in your lovely house with your amazing kids. What’s so different?’
Charlotte lays her hands flat on the table and fiddles with the corner of a paper napkin. She imagines Harriet buying them especially for her visit and feels a flash of pity for such a futile effort. ‘Everything is different, Harriet. None of it is real. It feels like everything I do is a lie and I can’t talk to anyone about it. My best friend doesn’t even know what I’ve done.’ She doesn’t mean to but she finds herself emphasising the words ‘best friend’.
‘You want to tell Audrey. Is that what this is about?’
‘Yes, I’d love to tell Audrey, but that’s not what this is about. It’s about me feeling so angry all the time. I have this rage inside me that has nowhere to go,’ Charlotte says, holding a hand against her stomach. ‘Can you imagine how that feels?’
‘Of course I can. I felt exactly the same when I was told my dad was dead. I felt that way for most of my marriage.’
Charlotte looks down. She knows how upset Harriet was about her father but that wasn’t why she’s come here and she refuses to be pulled into Harriet’s world today. ‘I’m sorry about your dad,’ she says. ‘But you need to tell me what to do with this anger.’ She can feel the heat bubbling inside her. ‘I’m angry with you, Harriet,’ she says bluntly. ‘I’m angry that you seem to have moved on and set up such a nice life for yourself.’
Harriet glances around the room with its tiny window and minimal cupboards, the gas hob with its rings that look dirty no matter how much she scrubs them.
‘You have the life you always wanted,’ Charlotte says.
‘The life I always wanted? What do you imagine my life is?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlotte admits. ‘But you’ve started again and meanwhile I’m left—’ She isn’t sure how to finish the sentence.
‘You’re left what?’ Harriet asks.
Charlotte sighs. ‘I don’t know. Dealing with it all.’
‘You think I’m not?’ Harriet says. ‘Every day I expect to see Brian turn up on the doorstep. I open the door and imagine him standing there, that look in his eyes, his head hanging to one side, and I can hear him as clear as day: “Hello, Harriet. Surprise.”’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘His body was never found,’ Harriet says. ‘So it might be unlikely but it’s not impossible. The years of dreading him coming home, fearing I’d done something wrong or said the wrong thing. Wondering what I was going to be quizzed about next – none of that leaves me. I don’t know if it ever will.’
‘Are you telling me that, after everything that’s happened, it’s no better?’ Charlotte asks.
‘Of course it’s better. But it doesn’t turn magically wonderful. I’m happy once I’ve reassured myself he’s not going to walk in the door any moment. Then I breathe again and I go back to living my life with the children. But I’m still dealing with it. And I doubt I have the kind of life you think I lead.’ Harriet smiles sadly. ‘I don’t do much with it but it’s fine. It’s what we need right now and that’s what matters. Alice needs to feel safe. They both do.’
Harriet places her fork carefully on the plate. ‘There’s not a day passes that I don’t look back and wish I could change what happened. But at the time I was so desperate, I didn’t know what else to do. I was living in a trap that Brian created and honestly couldn’t see any way of escaping him.’
‘But why didn’t you ever tell me?’
‘It took me a long time to realise what he was doing,’ Harriet says. ‘By then I felt like he’d convinced everyone around us that I was crazy. When I started writing my notebook I was already wondering if I was myself. I didn’t—’ She stops.
‘You didn’t trust me?’
‘No, maybe not,’ she admits. ‘But only because I was so frightened. I didn’t trust anyone. I believed him when he said he’d have Alice taken from me and I thought that if I’d fallen for it for years then how could I expect you not to. Can you honestly say you would have taken my word over his?’
‘Of course I would,’ Charlotte says, but Harriet hears the beat, the moment’s pause that’s just a fraction too long.
‘Do you regret what you said to the police?’
Charlotte looks down at her untouched cake. ‘No. Actually I don’t,’ she admits. ‘Because I don’t think the alternative was a better option. But there’s something else—’ Her heart is beating hard. She isn’t even sure she wants to hear the answer any more. ‘I know you can swim, Harriet. Alice told me when we were on the beach. She said you used to take her swimming but that it was a big secret. She actually told me so I wouldn’t worry about you in that boat.’
Harriet continues to look at Charlotte and gives a barely perceptible nod. Her hand is shaking as it grips the fork again.
‘What happened to Brian?’ Charlotte says as a cry erupts from above them. ‘Did you – did it happen on purpose?’
Harriet looks up to the ceiling but doesn’t move. The cry stops and she glances back at Charlotte, eyes wide in shock, and now Charlotte really doesn’t want to hear her answer.
The crying starts again, this time in a persistent wail, and Harriet pushes her chair back and hurries out of the kitchen. Charlotte slumps back in her seat. She shouldn’t have asked.
When she comes back Harriet is holding her baby, tightly swaddled, against her chest and when she sits down she gently peels the blanket away and moves forward so Charlotte can get a better look.
Baby George has a head of dark hair and tiny features and when he opens his brown eyes Charlotte sees the resemblance immediately. The baby is the image of Brian. She hopes she hasn’t shown a reaction as she runs a hand over his soft hair but for a moment she can’t breathe. ‘He’s lovely,’ she says eventually, because of course he is, whether he looks like his dad or not.
Harriet presses her lips against her son’s head and continues to watch Charlotte, who in turn is wondering if Harriet can see the similarities or whether she only sees her son. She prays it’s the latter.
‘The first time I felt protective over George was when I was on that boat with Brian,’ Harriet says. ‘Before then I’d tried to ignore the fact I was pregnant. I couldn’t imagine bringing another child into our family the way it was.’
Charlotte keeps looking at George as she strokes his tiny head.
‘Brian had sta
rted controlling Alice too,’ Harriet says. ‘I couldn’t let him do any more damage.’
‘I shouldn’t have said anything—’ Charlotte starts but Harriet interrupts her.
‘Tell me what I should have done,’ she says softly. ‘He could have killed me. He would have taken me from Alice and once he knew he had a son—’ She pauses and closes her eyes as she nestles deeper against her son’s head. ‘Children are our priority, aren’t they?’
Charlotte shuffles nervously in her chair, looks towards the door, then back at Harriet and her precious baby.
‘Tell me what you would have done, Charlotte?’ Harriet murmurs.
‘I really don’t know,’ she says honestly. She’d never have been able to consider that she could be capable of murder, but then being a mother can make you go to extraordinary lengths.
‘I know I’ve asked so much of you already and I have no right to ask any more.’ Harriet shakes her head as tears escape from the corners of her eyes. ‘But I beg you—’
‘Don’t,’ Charlotte says. Her heart feels as if it’s in her mouth. ‘You don’t have to ask, I’m not going to say anything.’
‘Thank you,’ Harriet whispers. ‘Oh God, thank you.’
‘Mummy, I’m hungry!’ Alice runs into the room and falls against her mum dramatically, dropping a kiss on to her baby brother’s head. ‘Can I have another piece of cake?’
‘No,’ Harriet smiles, rubbing her daughter’s tummy. ‘You’ll spoil your tea. Will you stay?’ she asks Charlotte.
‘Thank you, but I need to get going.’ Charlotte pushes her chair back and gets up from the table. She’s booked a hotel for the night so she doesn’t have to go straight home but for now she needs to be on her own.
‘Did you know that when you told me you and Tom were splitting up, I was envious of you?’ Harriet says as she gets up too and waits for Charlotte to gather her bag and the flowers Alice had given her. ‘I know it sounds mad but it summed up everything I wanted. I was also sad because I knew Tom was a good man but you weren’t happy and you did something about it. I craved having the ability to make a choice and live with it.
‘I’ve started a gardening course,’ Harriet goes on.
‘Really?’
She nods. ‘One evening a week. I have an elderly neighbour who comes to sit with the children. You gave us this security,’ she says. ‘And I’m sorry for the way I did it, I really am. It was wrong on so many levels but I won’t ever stop paying for it.’
Harriet steps aside and follows Charlotte into the hallway. ‘I’m glad you came,’ she says. ‘I miss you.’
Charlotte stops at the door, as Harriet reaches past her to open it. ‘I know you’re sorry,’ she says. ‘I do know that.’ It would be so easy to tell Harriet she forgives her. Maybe one day she will, but for today she feels – well, a little bit lighter, she supposes. A little bit more like she can go home to those amazing kids she has and give them a big hug. Tell Aud she wants to dress up and go out for a few drinks, and, sod it, she’ll even call Tom and say thank you. Because, even though they didn’t make a very good husband and wife, he’s been a wonderful friend to her over the last year. She is lucky, she realises. She’s always been one of the lucky ones and she doesn’t need more than what she’s got.
Charlotte bends down when Alice runs into the hallway behind them, allowing the little girl to come crashing into her legs for a hug.
‘Alice is doing fine,’ she says quietly to Harriet when she pulls herself up. ‘She’s doing absolutely fine.’
Harriet nods, biting her lip, willing the tears not to start again, though she knows they will anyway.
‘Bye, Harriet,’ Charlotte says eventually and steps off the doorstep.
‘Charlotte,’ Harriet calls out. She wants to ask her friend not to go but she knows she doesn’t have the right. ‘Take care of yourself,’ she says.
Harriet watches Charlotte walk away, knowing she has no choice but to let her go. Just like she did with Jane. When Charlotte disappears around the corner she closes the door, thinking it’s unlikely she’ll hear from her again, but hoping that one day she might.
She can’t imagine how Charlotte thought she could be living the life of Riley but then she supposes no one can really understand.
I see Brian watching me from the bottom of the garden, Charlotte.
I see him every time I look into my son’s eyes.
Whenever the phone rings I expect someone to tell me Brian’s alive, found washed up on some beach.
My father’s dead and it’s all my fault.
Some nights she wakes up drenched in sweat and reminds herself that, apart from her children, she has lost everyone who has ever been important to her. She tells herself that for some reason she must deserve it and hates herself for what she’s done.
Then Harriet creeps into her daughter’s bedroom and sees Alice, her blonde hair fanned around her on the pillow, an innocent smile on her lips, and knows in a heartbeat that she’d do it all again if she had to.
And now there is George too. Whose little fingers grab on to her hand, wrapping tightly around her, letting her know she is his world and nothing else is important to him.
She took his father away before Brian knew he’d have the son he always wanted – the boy he hoped would turn out like him – and now she can only hope she’s saved her son in time. That there’s nothing more in George than his father’s brown eyes, but only time will tell her that for sure.
‘Mummy?’
Harriet is still standing by the front door when she feels a hand on her arm. She looks down at Alice.
‘What’s for tea?’
‘Oh honey, I don’t know. What would you like?’
‘Pizza. Have you been crying?’
Harriet rubs her sleeve across her face and smiles at Alice. ‘Mummy’s fine,’ she says. ‘Didn’t we have pizza yesterday?’
Alice looks at her in the way she does when she knows something isn’t right. ‘Grandpa let me have pizza every day at the cottage,’ she says quietly. ‘Are you happy sad?’
‘Yes,’ Harriet laughs. ‘I’m very happy to have such a wonderful daughter.’ She crouches down and pulls Alice into her. ‘I’ll make you a sandwich in a minute.’
‘And ice cream too? Grandpa also let me have ice cream every day.’ Alice pulls her head away. ‘You’re making my hair wet, Mummy.’
‘I’m sorry!’ She laughs through her tears as she tickles her daughter. She hopes Alice won’t ever stop talking about the two weeks she spent with her precious grandpa.
‘Mummy, can we paint a picture?’ Alice asks. ‘Can we paint a big seaside to go in my room?’
‘My darling,’ she says. ‘You can do absolutely anything you want to do.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
When I began writing this book I had no idea how it would end, whether it would be any good or even if I’d finish it. I just knew I wanted to write it and if no one else liked it, well then I suppose I would have started something new. It’s been a three-year journey and one that’s had a few bumps along the way, but it’s thanks to many people that I’ve been able to reach this point. I know without doubt I wouldn’t have succeeded without them.
I can clearly remember the day Harriet and Charlotte’s story started as a seed of an idea. Holly Walbridge, that was down to you. Thank you for endlessly listening during trips to the park as I made you think dark thoughts about how it would feel if your children went missing. I hope I haven’t scarred you!
The idea then turned into a first draft and I owe huge thanks to Chris Bradford, who let me quiz him about all things police related, and for directing me towards an alternative – much better – ending than the one I’d originally written. Chris, your knowledge is immeasurable, and any mistakes are entirely my own.
I am very lucky to have such amazing friends who not only read early copies of my book but also read subsequent ones, and under very tight deadlines! Donna Cross and Deborah Dorman, you’re the best. Thank y
ou for reading so quickly and for your invaluable feedback. And as ever, Lucy Emery and Becci Holland, who read early copies and who are always there with support. To all my other friends and family who have shown a huge interest in what I am doing – it means so much to be asked how the book is going and to see your genuine excitement when there is good news.
To my wonderful group of writers who have become lifelong friends: you picked me up when things weren’t going so well and celebrated with me when they were. Cath Bennetto, Alexandra Clare, Alice Clark-Platts, Grace Coleman, Elin Daniels, Moyette Gibbons, Dawn Goodwin and Julietta Henderson – writing would not be the same without you all.
Then along came Nelle. You picked my book off the slush pile and told me we were going to work hard and, yes, we certainly did! It took a year of rewrites until I finally heard you utter those magical words – your book is ready to fly. Nelle Andrew, I would not be allowed enough pages to harp on about how fantastic you are. I could not have wished for a bigger champion. Thank you so much for believing in me and for taking me on this incredible journey. And big thanks also to the wider team at PFD including my wonderful step-agent Marilia Savvides, and the fantastic rights teams: Alexandra Cliff, Jonathan Sissons, Zoe Sharples and Laura Otal. You have all worked so hard to make this a success.
When we did let my book finally fly I was fortunate that two incredible editors fell in love with it. Emily Griffin at Cornerstone and Marla Daniels at Gallery in the US – I am thrilled to be working with you both. Your observations and direction are spot on and between you, you have taken the story to another level. Also at Cornerstone many thanks to Clare Kelly, Emina McCarthy and Natalia Cacciatore. You have all been so enthusiastic and determined to make this a success.
Finally to my wonderful family. Mum, ever since I was eight you have been telling me I can write and you have never stopped supporting me since. I have never lacked love or encouragement. Whatever choices I have made you have always remained unconditionally by my side and these are things that matter the most. I know how proud you are, and I know how proud Dad would have been too.
