Her One Mistake(27)

She nodded. “How were they?”

I sighed, stretching my arms in front of me, my hands wrapped around the mug of coffee Aud had pushed in my direction. “Brian took over, really. He was the one asking all the questions and getting angry.”

“Really?” Audrey asked. A teaspoon of sugar hovered over her mug as she looked up at me.

I nodded. “It frightened me. I know that’s a daft thing to say, given what he’s going through. I suppose I should have expected it.”

“And Harriet?”

“Harriet,” I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. “You put sugar in mine?”

“I thought you could use it.”

I frowned but took another sip anyway. “Harriet very obviously didn’t want to see me in the first place.”

“I thought she asked for you to come?” Audrey said.

“She did. The detective made a point of telling me she’d changed her mind and was asking for me. I don’t know, maybe she changed it again, or maybe just seeing me was too much for her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t bear to look at me.” I winced at the memory, still raw with its ability to slice through me as if it were happening now. Audrey sucked in a breath. “What is it?” I asked, looking up.

“I just can’t begin to put myself in her shoes,” she said softly. “The first time she’s ever left that little girl and the unthinkable happens.”

“I know. And I was always encouraging her to let me have Alice. That’s what makes it so much worse,” I added.

“She must be thinking she was right to be so bloody paranoid all along.”

“Aud, she wasn’t paranoid.”

“Oh, she was. The poor woman is plagued by worries. She makes me nervous just talking to her.”

“She was never that bad,” I sighed. “You just didn’t know her, didn’t want to know her.”

I could feel Aud staring at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up. “I never disliked Harriet,” she said. “You know that. I just wondered why you two got so close. She’s very different to us. She never wants to do the same things.”

I didn’t want to get into this now. How Harriet had genuinely wanted what was right for me and I could tell her anything. How she’d never judged me. But right now it was Audrey I needed, and I was so very grateful she was here.

“Harriet might not know it right now, but she’ll want to see you again.”

“No.” I gave a short laugh and shook my head. “I’m the last person she needs and I can’t blame her.”

“Charlotte.” Audrey leaned across the countertop. “You can’t give up trying. Tell me honestly who you think is going to get her through this?”

I sank my head into my hands. “Brian? You could see how much he was trying to protect her.”

“She’s going to need a friend as well as her husband.”

“I know,” I cried. “Don’t you think I realize I’m the only friend she has? And that that’s what makes all of this so much worse? The guilt that I have because Harriet left Alice with me,” I sobbed, placing a hand over my heart. “Me,” I said, balling it into a fist, this time slamming it hard against my chest. “She’d never wanted to leave her before, you’re right, but I was always telling her she should, and I know she has no one else, Aud, but what can I do about it when I’m the one who’s done this to her in the first place?”

“Oh, Charlotte.” Audrey came to my side, folding her arms around me. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry. Maybe you’re right and Brian will be what she needs,” she said, straightening up.

I raked my hands through my hair. “I know you don’t believe that, but I really don’t know what I can do when she doesn’t want me in her house. Harriet isn’t as weak as you think,” I said, when Audrey reached for the coffeepot and refilled her cup. I held a hand over my own mug and shook my head.

“I’ve never said ‘weak.’ Fragile, maybe.”

“I felt worse after being in their house.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Not just because it was so hard, but I felt this despair as I was driving home,” I said, my voice breaking at the memory. “On the one hand they were both clawing at hope and desperate for me to tell them something that would give them an answer. But on the other hand it felt like there was no hope left. I walked out of there feeling like the worst had already happened.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.” I thought back to the dark oppressiveness of the living room and the way the walls had felt like they were closing in on me. “Oh God, Aud.” I buried my head in my hands again. “How’s this going to end?”

“Alice is going to be found,” Audrey said, looking at me over the rim of the mug.

“But what if she isn’t?” I whispered.

“She will be.” Aud was resolute, and I willed myself to believe her.

“How was Tom?” Audrey asked me after we’d fallen into a brief silence.

“He’s . . . Tom,” I said dismissively, and then shook my head. “No, that’s not fair. He’s been very good; he just doesn’t always get it right.” I needed to change the subject. “I want you to be honest with me. Would you leave your children with me again?”