Her One Mistake(19)
At seven o’clock on Saturday evening I had a call from Captain Hayes. He phoned to say Harriet wanted to see me, despite telling me earlier she was refusing to.
“Of course I’ll go,” I said when he asked if I was prepared to see them at their house, even though I’d been through every possible scenario of meeting Harriet, and none of them came out well. “I’ll just need to get someone to look after the children.”
“Of course,” he said. “I can send an officer round.”
“There’s no need,” I told him. A policeman babysitting the children would only frighten them. “I can be there in an hour, if that’s okay?” I told him and hung up. I’d called Tom as soon as we’d gotten home after the fair, so I knew he’d come over when I needed him to.
? ? ?
I’D MET CAPTAIN Hayes earlier that afternoon after Audrey had insisted I leave the fair and she’d driven me and the children back in my car. I’d stared out the car window as she shunted the gears into reverse, muttering under her breath that she “wouldn’t be able to get out of the sodding parking lot.”
“I shouldn’t be leaving,” I said. “I should be searching with everyone else.” Makeshift groups of parents were forming in clumps on the field despite police requests not to get involved.
“No, you need to be with your children,” she said. “They need you more than ever right now and this isn’t a place for them to stay.”
I knew she was right, but as Audrey negotiated her way between the parked cars, I felt as empty as the extra car seat wedged behind me. The space between Molly and Evie was a gaping reminder that I’d not only lost Alice, but I was now walking away from her too.
We drove out of the car park, turning the corner with the field on our right, the tips of the inflatable palm trees on the Jungle Run no longer swaying. No one would let their children near it now since it had become a crime scene.
“And there are enough people out there,” Aud continued. “The police don’t even want them looking. Look at this place,” she said in a whisper. “No one must want their children here now.” Two more police cars passed us, their blue lights silently flashing. “Let’s get you home,” Aud said quietly.
Hayes arrived at my house at 4:30 p.m. That was when he told me Harriet was refusing to see me.
“I’ve tried calling her,” I said. “I tried as soon as I got home, but her phone must be switched off.” I picked up my phone and stared at its screen, a photo of my children smiling back at me. I’d tried Harriet a number of times. Each time I held my breath until her voice mail kicked in and I could hang up, able to breathe again.
“She must have questions,” I said to the detective. “She must want to hear from me what happened. I know I’d want to.” I’d want to scream at me if I were her, pound fists against my chest until I broke down. Demand an explanation, beg me to find her daughter or to turn back time and change what happened.
“Everyone’s different,” he said, and I nodded because it couldn’t have been more true.
When Hayes phoned again at 7 p.m. I was in the middle of running the girls a bath. I finished the short call, turned off the water, and dialed Tom’s cell.
“Any news?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I told him.
“Oh, Charlotte. Are you sure there’s still nothing I can do?”
“Actually, I need to go see Harriet. Can you come sit with the kids?”
“Yes, of course. How is Harriet?”
“I haven’t spoken to her yet. When can you get here?”
“I don’t know, um, half an hour?”
“That’s fine,” I said.
“So you’ve heard nothing about Alice at all?” he asked again.
“No, nothing.”
“It’s been on TV. I just saw it on the news.”
“God,” I sighed. I’d already had two calls from journalists, but as Captain Hayes advised me, I told them both I had nothing to say.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte—I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just come round so I can get over there.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and waited for Tom as the bath water slowly went cold in the bathroom next to me. My phone flashed again with another text message from a class mum. “Is there any news? Is there anything I can do to help?” I threw the phone behind me. Sooner or later I was going to have to respond to all the messages I’d had since I’d left the fair, but I couldn’t do anything until I got through this evening. With the curtains pulled, I was in semidarkness as I brooded over one question: What the hell did I say to Harriet?
I would have to look them both in the eye and tell them I had nothing that could make it any easier. No explanation, no excuses. Not even one suggestion that might bring them relief. They’d ask me what happened to Alice and I’d have to confess I didn’t have a clue.
She ran behind the Jungle Run with Molly.
Then what? they’d ask.
I don’t know. I just don’t know what happened to your daughter then.
Molly and Jack had since told me they’d taken their shoes off behind the inflatable, but in their excitement neither of them stopped to help Alice, waited for her, or even noticed whether she’d gotten on. “You’re ten, Jack,” I’d cried earlier. “Why didn’t you check the girls were safely on it like I’d asked you to?”