Her One Mistake(11)

Harriet drove home, wondering if she’d done the right thing. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving the class, but as soon as she’d walked into the fresh air of the parking lot she was relieved to be out of the hotel. After a twenty-minute journey home, she could plug in her phone again.

The drive passed quickly, but as soon as she turned onto her street, her foot slammed hard on the brake. Blue and red lights flashed ahead, and even though the road was long and lined with cars on either side, she knew the bursts of light were directly outside her house because they were immediately in front of her neighbor’s wretched van.

Cautiously she eased her foot onto the accelerator until forced to stop again to let a car pass. “Come on,” she muttered, craning her neck to see if she could see anyone outside the house. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the wheel. The other car slowly trundled by. She could feel her heart pounding and pressed a hand against her chest. One. Two. Another missed beat.

Eventually Harriet pulled into the small space between the police car and Brian’s silver Honda and saw her husband standing in the front garden, one hand clutching tightly around his fishing rods, the other roughly rubbing his stubbly chin.

A policewoman stood on the grass beside him. Harriet could see her lips moving, but her face was impassive. She held up both her hands and indicated with one toward the house, but Brian stayed stubbornly rooted to the spot.

Now Harriet could only see the back of his head, but he was shaking it and had raised it high, looking up to the sky, his shoulders clenched tight.

Harriet didn’t move. She didn’t want to get out of the car. She could hear her breaths filling the silence, too deep, too fast, but as soon as she stepped out she’d have to listen to what Brian had been told. She didn’t need to see her husband’s face to know the policewoman had told him something bad. Just the way his body was arched, taut with tension, she knew.

Harriet’s fingers shook against the key as she slowly turned it and the engine cut out, the policewoman and Brian turning to look at her. Still she didn’t move.

Brian mouthed her name slowly, as if it suddenly dawned on him that whatever he had just learned he was going to have to pass on to his wife. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared at her, before he slowly walked down the sidewalk toward the gate, dragging his fishing rods behind him.

Harriet shook her head at him from behind the safety of the glass. Don’t say it, don’t you dare say it, because if you don’t then I don’t have to hear it.

The day she’d turned up at the hospital and saw her mum’s empty bed, she’d run from the ward and huddled in the corner of the hallway with her hands clamped over her ears. She knew her mum had passed away. Harriet had been told to expect it for weeks, but still she didn’t want to think it had finally happened. And she figured if no one actually told her, then she just might be able to believe her mum was still alive.

Harriet hadn’t taken her eyes off Brian, yet the click of the car door still startled her when he opened it.

She closed her eyes. “What’s happened?”

“Come out, my love.” His voice was lifeless but unnervingly calm. “Please come out of the car.”

“Tell me what’s happened. What is she doing here?” Harriet nodded toward the policewoman.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, holding out his free hand.

“No. Tell me now.”

“Mrs. Hodder?” The policewoman appeared by his side. “I think we should go into the house.”

“I don’t want to,” Harriet cried, but she took Brian’s hand and allowed him to pull her out of the car.

He gripped her tightly, brushing his thumb across the top of her hand. “Darling, I really think we should just get inside,” he said, managing to get her onto the front stoop before Harriet stopped. Her legs felt like they would give way beneath her if she carried on.

“Will one of you just tell me what’s happened?”

The policewoman stopped beside her. She had a pudgy face and small eyes that flicked nervously between her and Brian. Harriet looked up at her husband. Over the years she had learned to read him well. She knew every expression by heart. Before he’d even opened his mouth she’d known when something was worrying him, but never more so than in that moment.

“Mrs. Hodder.” The policewoman cleared her throat as she spoke again. “I’m afraid we’ve had some bad news. Mrs. Charlotte Reynolds has reported that—”

“Alice is missing,” Brian interrupted, throwing the words out. Harriet could almost see the letters spilling out of his mouth, reshaping in the air, making no sense. Then slowly her husband’s words trickled down until one by one they landed on her.

“No.” Harriet’s voice was a whisper. “No, don’t say that.” She shook her head almost manically, even though her body was so tense it pained her to move.

“Let’s go inside,” Brian said quietly.

“Alice,” Harriet said, looking about as if she might find her in the front yard and all of this was some sick joke. “Alice!” She cried her name, this time in an earsplitting wail, and with it her legs buckled and she fell to the ground. To anyone watching it looked like the air had been sucked out of her in one breath as she crumpled into a ball on the hard concrete of her front path.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Hodder,” the policewoman was saying.