Her One Mistake(32)

I picture Brian standing in my backyard, running his hand across the oak table on the deck as he looked around, and I couldn’t tell if he admired my yard or loathed it.

“I’m very worried about my wife,” he’d said. “What I’m particularly worried about is that she puts Alice in danger. Yesterday she walked off and left Alice in the car on her own. She forgot she was in there.”

Brian stopped running his fingers along the wood and turned to look me in the eye, and I instinctively took a step back.

“Harriet was so preoccupied with getting to the post office to renew her passport before it closed, that she completely forgot about her daughter. Charlotte, anything could have happened,” he’d said. “My little girl could have been taken.”





BEFORE


HARRIET


Can I help you with that?” Angela pointed to the dishes on the draining board, taking a tea towel off the oven handle. “I always preferred drying when I was forced to help as a kid.” She smiled.

It had been twenty-four hours since Alice had disappeared. Harriet had been trying to keep herself busy so she didn’t have to think about how their appeal for their daughter had gone. “I don’t mind washing. I’ve always liked looking out onto the garden while I’m doing it. I think I’d live outdoors if I could.”

“Really? Where would your most favorite place to live be?”

Harriet liked that Angela was taking an interest in her, even though she understood the detective’s underlying reasons. “By the sea,” she said. “When I was little I dreamed of living in a house at the edge of the beach. It had an open porch at the front where I could sit and read and look at the water, and a wooden path that led through the dunes to the water’s edge.”

“Wow.” Angela rested the towel on the draining board. “That sounds wonderful.”

Harriet shrugged. “I used to draw it in my mind. I have a picture of it that’s crystal clear, and if I close my eyes I can see every bit of it. The shimmering water, the ripples on the sand, the gaps between the boardwalk I can look through. I would picture myself sitting in a chair on the porch, looking out at the sea, imagining.” Harriet smiled. “I can imagine anything when I look at the sea.”

“I know what you mean,” Angela said. “Though I love the forest, too. So is that why you moved to Dorset, to live by the sea?”

“Supposedly.” Harriet quickly grabbed the scouring pad and began scrubbing the pan. If she rubbed much harder, the enamel would start chipping, but she didn’t relent. Brian had wanted boiled milk and it had left a white layer of skin on the bottom. It was easier to use the microwave, but it wasn’t a compromise Brian was prepared to make. He preferred it heated in a pan.

“So do you swim much?” Angela asked.

Harriet stopped scrubbing. She had momentarily lost her picture of the sea house and replaced it with the mundanity of Brian’s milk. She’d almost forgotten they’d been talking about it. “No,” Harriet replied after a beat. “I can’t swim.”

“Really?”

She knew this would surprise Angela. Who would want to live by the beach if they were afraid to go in the water?

“Tell me more about moving here,” Angela persisted, but Harriet didn’t know how to open up that can of worms. She wasn’t sure this was even the right time—after all, she’d only known Angela since yesterday.

“You don’t have to do this,” Harriet said instead, nodding at the mugs and plates that were slowly piling up on the draining board.

Angela shook her head and flicked out the tea towel. “No, I want to help.” She picked up one of the mugs and started to dry again. “Did you always live in Kent when you were a child?”

“Yes, I was born there. It’s pretty, have you ever been?”

“Yes, I have an aunt who lives in Westerham.”

“I know it. It’s lovely.”

“And it was just you and your mum, then? After your dad died?”

Harriet nodded. “Yes, just me and Mum since I was five. It was all I ever knew.”

“That must have been hard,” she said. “Your dad dying when you were still so young.”

“Yes.” Harriet paused. “I do wish I’d had him in my life,” she said. “Somehow I think I would have liked him a lot.”

Angela smiled sadly. “And what about Brian’s mother?” she asked. Harriet looked over as Angela casually put the tea towel down and started wiping a cloth across the draining board.

“I only met her once,” Harriet said. “Brian took me to her house a month after we met. He was so excited. He said he wanted to show me off, but his mother had no interest in me. When I left the room I overheard him telling her I was the girl he was going to marry and she laughed, told him marriage was a waste of time, and then said he had to leave because she needed to get ready for bingo. I never saw her again, and as far as I know, Brian hasn’t either.”

“That’s very sad.”

Harriet shrugged. “My own mum was different.” She gazed out of the window. “We used to live in a two-bed flat that overlooked a park. We didn’t have a garden and Mum hated that park. She said it was an accident waiting to happen. We saw a child fall off the monkey bars once and he laid at an angle that wasn’t right at all.” Harriet cocked her head to one side and stuck out her arm to show how distorted the boy looked. “Mum raced down there, screaming for someone to call an ambulance, shouting, ‘Where the hell is this boy’s mother?’ Thankfully he was okay, but whenever we walked past the park after that, Mum grabbed my hand and sped past it. I don’t think I ever went in it again.” Harriet stopped and looked up at Angela. “She was a funny one, my mum. I was everything she had and I thought the world of her, but she didn’t let me do a lot of things. She was always yelling at me to get down from walls that were only three bricks high in case I fell.” Harriet raised her eyebrows.