Her One Mistake(39)

When Angela had left that evening, Brian turned on Harriet. “I’m not the only one who’s worried about you,” he said, shuffling far too close to her on the sofa, the smell of stale coffee drifting off his breath.

“What do you mean?”

“Other people have noticed, too,” he said. “I’m only telling you this for your sake.”

“What are you talking about, Brian?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down his jeans. “When you went out for a walk the other day, Angela specifically told you she didn’t want you going out on your own, but you ignored her and went anyway. Why are you doing this to me, Harriet?”

“Angela never said that,” Harriet said, slowly shaking her head as she thought back.

“Yes she did, my love.” Brian turned around to face her, furrowing his brow and cocking his head to one side as he studied her. His eyes drifted to her hairline and he reached out to gently push her hair back. “You said you needed to go out for a little walk, but Angela told you it wasn’t a good idea and asked you to stay in the house. Yet you were insistent. Even when she told you it wasn’t safe,” he said, his hand remaining on her scalp.

Harriet stared at her husband.

“I just need to understand why you’re doing this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you. Angela didn’t tell me I shouldn’t go out,” she said again.

“Oh, Harriet, you don’t remember, do you?” he said, inching nearer still. He took hold of her arms, rubbing his thumbs across the fleshy skin above her elbow. “I knew this would be the case,” he continued.

“Brian. I know Angela didn’t say that to me. I would have remembered. If she had told me not to go out, I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh, Harriet.” He shook his head again. “Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I’m trying to deal with Alice and I can’t worry about you, too.” He gripped her a little harder. “There are things you choose to forget.”

When Harriet didn’t answer, he carried on. “We’ll go back to the doctor. I’ll make an appointment for Monday morning.”

“I don’t need to see a doctor.” She would be firm over this. She would not have a doctor brought in again.

With one last squeeze he let go of her arms and stood up, pacing over to the window. Brian’s head hung low. She watched his shoulders heave slowly. Up, down, up, down.

When she couldn’t bear the tension any longer she said, “Fine. I’m sorry. I believe you. I remember it now; I know what you’re saying about Angela is right. So I don’t need to see a doctor again, Brian.”

“That’s good, my love,” he said, turning back and smiling at her, his dark, hooded eyes reflecting the light of the evening sun. “I knew you would.”





NOW


It’s clear Detective Rawlings has decided she doesn’t like me, as she looks at me with scrutinizing eyes that frown under her thinly plucked eyebrows. I am not the kind of mum she would want to be friends with, though I doubt she has children of her own.

She is interested in the differences between Harriet and me. Not the glaringly obvious ones like money and houses, but the little nuances that separate us.

“You were happy to share everything about your life,” she comments. “But Harriet didn’t do the same with you?”

She already knows the answers to most of her questions. I’m sure her intent is to point out my shortcomings.

“I don’t share everything,” I say in defense. “Many parts of my life are private.”

“But you talked about your upbringing and the intricacies of your marriage.”

“With Harriet, yes,” I say. “But Harriet is a friend, it’s what friends do.”

“Yet Harriet didn’t open up to you in the same way?”

“Look, I don’t really know what you’re getting at.” I don’t mean to snap, and wonder if I have overstepped the mark.

“Don’t you, Charlotte?”

“Harriet told me what she wanted to. I can’t force someone to talk about their home life if they don’t want to,” I reply.

“Or maybe you didn’t try,” she says, and leans back in her seat as if satisfied with her trump card.

My fingers stop fidgeting with my belt and instead clench tightly until I can’t stand the pressure. I know she thinks I wasn’t a good friend to Harriet, that I took more than I gave, but her judgment angers me. She has comfortably positioned herself on Harriet’s side, if there are sides to be taken. Before I even walked in this room she’d probably made her judgment.

“I’m going to have to take another break if you want me to answer more questions,” I say sharply.

“Of course, of course. Take as long as you need.” She gestures to the door but doesn’t smile, and again I wonder if I should tell her I’m not prepared to stay any longer.

Once I get out into the fresh air of the courtyard, I call Tom. “How are the children?” I ask before he has the chance to speak. “Are they asleep?”

“Of course,” he says. He sounds drowsy himself, as if I have woken him up, but if I have I don’t particularly care.

“What about Molly?” I say. “Has her temperature gone down?”