Her One Mistake(21)

But Harriet had seemed to be placated when she said, “Yes, I’m very lucky that Brian never works late.”

I turned off the main road out of town to where the houses were packed much tighter together. “Crammed in,” Tom would say. Even at that time of night, Harriet’s road was busy. I was forced to drive past the house to find a parking space between two dropped curbs on the other side of the road.

There were a handful of journalists hanging around outside Harriet’s front lawn, so I’d been given the number of the liaison officer to call when I arrived, who would come out to meet me. I looked back at the house, its windows darkened by pulled curtains. The thought of them sitting inside, engulfed in a misery that I had created, made me want to restart the engine and speed off. But I didn’t have that luxury. Swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, I tapped out the number and told the woman who answered, Angela, that I was there.

? ? ?

AS SOON AS I walked into the room the air felt heavy with misery. Inside the boxed walls, its stuffiness did nothing to suppress the shiver running the length of my spine. “Someone has stepped on your grave,” Tom would have said.

Angela maneuvered me toward an armchair in the corner of the room that faced the sofa. On that, Harriet and Brian were glued together. In his lap Brian had his hands protectively wrapped around one of Harriet’s. His fingers played, pressing into her hand, splaying then scrunching like a nervous child.

As I stumbled across the room and awkwardly perched in the seat, Brian’s eyes followed me. His body was curved around Harriet’s, a wall of protection to shield her from me. Within his enclosure, Harriet was deathly immobile. Her glassy eyes stared out of the window and didn’t once venture in my direction.

The silence was cold until Angela broke it. “Can I get you a cup of tea, Mrs. Reynolds?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No thank you.” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“Maybe it would help if you could tell Harriet and Brian what happened,” Angela said softly. “What was going on when Alice went onto the Jungle Run?”

I nodded. I could sense Harriet and Brian both tensing, and my own muscles ached as I hunched uncomfortably in the chair. I had no idea how to start.

“I, um—” I broke off and swallowed loudly, inhaling a large gulp of air that hissed through my teeth. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know nothing I say will mean anything.” I paused again. Brian’s eyes continued to bore into me as if he could see right through my skin, but still Harriet wouldn’t look over.

The skirt of my dress was damp beneath me. I shifted on the leather chair, the wetness of my thighs making it squeak, though any extra embarrassment wouldn’t show on my already blotchy face.

“I’m sorry—” I started again.

“Sorry is not going to bring back our daughter,” Brian interrupted, his voice quietly controlled. “So we don’t want to hear your sorries. We want to know what happened today. How you lost Alice.” His fingers continued to unfurl and then clamp back around Harriet’s hand. Beside him she took a deep breath.

Brian leaned forward, moving his weight toward the edge of the sofa. I could see his eyes more clearly now, red lines creeping out from the edges. He must have been crying, but now he just looked angry.

“What happened?” he growled. “Because we need to know how you lost our daughter.”

I felt my breath stagger in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Brian. I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t know?” He gave a short laugh, one of his hands flinging into the air, which made Harriet jump. Brian moved his body, wrapping himself around Harriet more tightly, and despite how awful I felt for him, I wished he would get out of the way so I could see my friend.

“I don’t mean it like that,” I said. “It’s just that everything happened so quickly. It was a split second. Alice went around the back of the inflatable with Molly and Jack, but then she didn’t—” The words caught in my throat, making me gulp down another large breath. “She didn’t come off it. And as soon as I knew that, I went on it looking for her myself. The children came with me, but”—I shook my head—“she wasn’t there.” I knew I sounded too shrill and my excuses hung awkwardly in the air as I waited for Brian to answer.

But it was Harriet who spoke, her voice rupturing into the room like it had no place being there. “How long had she been gone before you noticed?” Still she continued to stare out the window. It was a question I’d expected.

“I think it was maybe five minutes,” I said quietly, willing her to look at me around her husband’s shoulder. I inched forward in the seat, the squeak of leather making another unpleasant noise. My hand flinched as if it wanted to reach out for her, but almost by instinct she withdrew farther into the sofa. Eventually she turned her head and found my eyes.

“Five minutes doesn’t seem very long,” she said. “She can’t have gone far in five minutes.”

“I—well, maybe it was a little longer. I’m not sure exactly, but it wasn’t long, I promise you.”

Harriet turned away again, staring out the window once more.

“I don’t know where she went; I’m so sorry,” I said. “We looked everywhere and—”