Her One Mistake(26)

“Shhh. There’s no bad man,” I said, though by then I was certain there was, and he’d been feet away from my children.

“What’s happened to Alice?” she asked innocently.

I put a finger over my lips and gestured toward her sleeping siblings. Molly stirred and rolled over but didn’t wake. “I don’t know, honey, but the police are doing everything they can to bring her home.”

“Will she come back today?”

“I don’t know, my darling. I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Did someone take her?” she asked, solemnly looking up at me with wide eyes. I furiously fought back tears. How I wanted to reassure her that Chiddenford was still a safe place to live and she had nothing to worry about, that her dream was just a nightmare she could forget about by the time she’d finished breakfast.

“I don’t know what happened, but I promise you—” I inhaled a lungful of air that burned my chest as it sank through my body. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

I had no right to make such promises, but I knew I would never take my eyes off my children again. I would never let them run through the trees where I couldn’t see them or play hide-and-seek in the sand dunes where the grass was so high it devoured them. I would never trust anyone not to be lurking a breath away from me, ready to snatch my children.

? ? ?

AUDREY CAME BACK to the house when I was making breakfast, at a point when we had temporarily fallen into a chaotic normality. When I opened the door to Aud, I realized how it must have looked.

“Oh, Aud,” I blustered. “I’m sorry, we were just trying to get breakfast sorted and the kids, well, you know what it’s like.” I stepped aside to let her in, taking in the view of my hallway. Molly sat crying at the bottom of the stairs, while Evie hovered in the doorway to the kitchen, dangling a sodden night nappy in one hand. The TV blared out from the playroom, where Jack had turned up the volume to drown out his sisters.

“It’s how it should be,” she said as she gave me a hug and carefully folded her cardigan on the hallway table. “I should have brought the boys round to sit with Jack. Anyway, you mustn’t stop their lives going on as normal.”

“I know but—”

Audrey held up her hand to stop me. “I’ll make us both a coffee while you sort out whatever this is about.”

I smiled gratefully and waited for Aud to head into the kitchen. “Now, Molly, what’s wrong?” I asked, crouching next to my daughter on the bottom step.

“Evie kicked me,” she sobbed.

“Evie? Is that true?”

“You forgot this,” Evie said, hurling the wet nappy across the hallway.

“Jesus, Evie, come pick that up.”

“I want my breakfast!” she said, balling her fists against her hips.

“I said come and pick this up, Evie.” I pointed to the nappy, rising to my feet.

“I want Shreddies, not toast.”

“Evie!” I shouted. “Do as you’re told. And tell me why you kicked Molly.”

“She kicked me first.”

“I didn’t, Mummy, I promise,” Molly cried.

“God!” I clamped my hands over my ears. “Will you stop arguing? What is wrong with you both? Do you really think any of your petty squabbles are important right now?”

Jack glanced over from the sofa and then back to the TV. “And will you turn down the volume, Jack?” I shouted. “I can’t hear myself think.”

“Why do you need to?” Molly asked.

“What?”

“Hear yourself think.”

I gripped the banister so tightly my knuckles went white. “Don’t talk back at me, Molly.”

Her bottom lip wobbled, and then she flung her hands over her head, dramatically curling herself into a ball and crying.

“Come and have a coffee,” Audrey said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. “Girls, why don’t you go watch some TV with your brother? I’ll bring you breakfast in there today.”

“Really?” Evie’s eyes shone as she skipped into the playroom, and eventually Molly unfurled herself and followed her in.

“Have you eaten?” Audrey asked as we went through to the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifted from the pot. “I’m making you toast if you haven’t,” she said, popping two slices of bread into the toaster.

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“I will later.” I smiled at her gratefully and realized how good it was to have her here again, taking control. We hadn’t done this enough in the last couple of years, and we’d drifted apart since Tom and I hadn’t been together. Audrey had been supportive throughout our separation but had always made it clear she thought we should stay together for the children, so I’d stopped confiding in her. Not like I did with Harriet.

We sat on stools at the island in silence. She had folded back the doors to the backyard and a light breeze blew in, the sun shining daggers of light across the stone tiles.

“So tell me more about last night,” Audrey asked after a while. I’d called her once Tom left but had only given the briefest details.

“It was awful.”