Her One Mistake(47)







HARRIET


It was Wednesday, eleven days after Alice had disappeared, and Harriet knew she had to get out of the house again. She called to Brian and Angela that they needed milk, but before she got to the front door Brian appeared at her side. Where he had sprung from this time she wasn’t sure, but he was making a habit of skulking around corners, then pouncing out at her.

“But we don’t need milk, my love,” he said. “We only bought some last night.”

“No, it’s all gone,” she assured him, standing her ground. “You can check if you like.”

Brian’s tongue whipped out, licking his bottom lip as he was about to protest, when Angela called from the kitchen. They both turned to see her shaking an empty plastic bottle. “Actually, we do need some,” she said, and while Brian was looking the other way, Harriet took the chance to slip out.

She didn’t look back as she hurried down the path, which meant she didn’t notice him still waiting on the doorstep, watching her. When she returned half an hour later, he was still standing in the open doorway. Had he been there the whole time? She couldn’t care less, she thought, as she tried to push past him. All she needed was to get inside so she could lie down, because all of a sudden she was feeling dreadful.

“And how was your walk?” He didn’t budge as he held his ground, his eyes crawling over her face as he didn’t let her pass.

“I was just getting milk,” she muttered. Her hands were trembling and amid the hot flushes that ran through her, Harriet felt surprisingly cold. She hoped she’d be able to pass it off as coming down with something—Brian was already looking at her strangely.

“Are you okay?” he said, eventually stepping back so she could get inside. “You look very white.” He reached out and took the milk from her.

“I don’t feel well.”

“Are you sick? You look as if you’re going to be. I hope nothing’s happened while you’ve been out?” His smile vanished.

“No,” she whispered. “Nothing’s happened, I just really don’t feel well and I need to lie down.” She slipped off her shoes and pushed them into the corner with her foot.

“Okay, let’s get you up to bed. I’ll come and lie down with you.”

Harriet took hold of the banister. “No,” she said. “I’ll go on my own.” She started to walk up the stairs when he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“Everything okay?” Angela asked, stepping into the hallway. Her handbag was slung over her shoulder and a cardigan draped over her arm. “You don’t look well, Harriet.”

“She’s not,” Brian said. “But I’m taking care of her. Aren’t I, my love?”

“Can I get you anything before I go?”

“No,” Brian said. “We’re fine. I can get my wife what she needs. Thank you, Angela,” he added as an afterthought, or maybe because Brian was never one to forget his manners.

? ? ?

ALL HARRIET WANTED was to be left alone, but as she climbed the stairs Brian was right behind her. When she got to the bedroom, she asked him for a glass of water just so he had to reluctantly go down again. Curling up on top of the covers, Harriet found that every time she tried closing her eyes, they sprang open. The swirling patterns on the wallpaper danced in front of her until they blurred into one large fuzzy shape.

Harriet knew every inch of those walls by heart. Every change of color in the paper, all the bits that didn’t quite match. She had loved it when she’d picked it out, her tummy swollen with her baby, wondering if they were having a girl or a boy. Brian was adamant he wanted a son. An heir, someone just like him, he was always saying, and in turn Harriet found herself praying they’d be blessed with a girl.

Now she hated the wallpaper. Its swirling patterns made her feel even more nauseous, until Harriet thought she actually would be sick. She pushed herself up and held a hand over her mouth, waiting for the feeling to pass.

How happy she had been when she was expecting Alice. What a lifetime ago that felt like, wandering the aisles of Buy Buy Baby, promising herself she would always protect her baby. She could never have foreseen this. The terror of not knowing where her daughter was and whether she was safe coursed through her veins until it paralyzed her. And for a moment, Harriet didn’t register that something wasn’t quite right in their bedroom, even though she was staring right at it.

When her eyes finally refocused, the silver frame on her dressing table eventually became clear. “Oh my God.” Harriet shuffled to the end of her bed and reached out to pick it up. The day Brian had bought her the frame three years ago, he had put a photo of her and Alice in it. He’d taken the picture on a beach in Devon and given it to Harriet as a present. It was a beautiful picture of her baby girl, their cheeks pressed against each other’s, Alice’s wide eyes bright blue as they reflected the light. Her yellow dotted sunhat skewed at an angle on top of her head, tufts of baby blond hair poking out beneath it.

But now Harriet was looking at a very different picture. It was a photo of their wedding day, one she’d never liked because her eyes were half closed and she was looking away from Brian while he stared intently at her. “Look at you,” the inexperienced but cheap photographer had said with a laugh. “You adore her.”

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