Her One Mistake(6)

“You’ll be fine,” I said, rubbing her elbow. “Where’s Alice?”

“I thought she was behind me.”

“Well she isn’t, Molly, she’s probably stuck somewhere and she might be scared. One of you’ll have to go in again.”

“I’ll go,” Jack said, already sprinting around the side, eager for another turn.

“Me too.” Molly disappeared just as quickly, both of them out of sight again. I waited. I glanced around the field, marveling at the amount of people, noticing Audrey again, but she was too far away to call out to. I needed to ask her if she could take Jack to football for me that Monday, so I’d try and catch up with her at some point.

Jack appeared over the tip of the slide again. “She’s not in there,” he called, landing at my feet.

“What do you mean she’s not in there? Of course she’s in there.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t see her. I went all the way through, and she wasn’t in there.”

“Molly? Did you see Alice?” I called out to Molly, who had now appeared at the end too. Molly shook her head.

“Well, she has to be. She can’t have just disappeared. You’ll have to go back on again, Jack,” I said, pushing him around the back. “And this time make sure you find her.”





HARRIET


Harriet was told to switch off her phone at the start of the class. She looked around the room and wondered why no one else seemed reluctant as they clicked off their cells and carelessly tossed them into bags and pockets. Surely there were others there who had children?

Of course Harriet knew it was unusual that her internal reaction to turning off her phone bordered on neurotic. But I’ve never left my daughter with anyone before, she protested silently. How can you possibly expect me not to be reachable when someone else has Alice?

In the end she decided to switch her phone to silent and balance it carefully on top of her handbag so she would catch it flash if anyone called or texted. With the decision came a tiny burst of relief that she had gotten around this small issue. She pulled out her own notepad and placed it in front of her so she could take notes.

As she listened to the teacher, Yvonne, make her introductions to the world of bookkeeping, Harriet considered that maybe she should have listened to Charlotte and done something she was interested in. Her friend was right, after all. Harriet would make a good teacher and it’d be nice to put her English degree to better use. But this is about the money, she reminded herself as she tried to focus.

? ? ?

THE MINUTES SLOWLY ticked into hours, and by early afternoon Harriet felt like she’d been folded into that small desk for most of her life. The room was incredibly stuffy, filled with too many people, making it difficult to breathe. Fanning herself with her notebook, she wished Yvonne would open a window, but the woman seemed oblivious to her mounting discomfort. Now Harriet’s right leg was cramping, and even though they were surely due another break, she wondered if she could escape to the bathroom and dampen her forehead with cold water. Then she could check her phone, too. It had somehow slipped into her bag and without making a fuss of looking for it, she couldn’t easily see if there were any missed calls.

Making a snap decision, Harriet picked up her handbag and squeezed past the people at the next table. Keeping her head down, she left the room for the bright, airy corridor. Already she felt herself breathing more easily.

“You had enough too?” a voice rang out behind her.

Harriet turned around to see a young girl from class had followed her out.

“Sorry?”

“I’m done with it in there. It’s too hot, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.”

“And too dull.” The girl sniggered. “So I’m leaving.” She stared at Harriet, her gaze drifting toward her mouth.

Harriet brushed a hand across her mouth self-consciously, but the girl continued to stare under thick false eyelashes, barely blinking.

“I can’t listen to that woman, Yvette, for one more minute,” the girl carried on.

“Yvonne,” Harriet said before she could stop herself.

“Right.” She shrugged. “You should leave too, unless you’re enjoying it.” The corners of her mouth twitched up.

No, Harriet wasn’t enjoying it, but she also knew she could never leave. She couldn’t possibly walk out before it had finished.

With one last smirk the girl trotted off down the corridor, disappearing around the corner, and Harriet slipped into the bathroom.

Letting out a deep breath as she ran the cold water over her wrists, Harriet stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were red from the heat and her neck was blotchy. Her hair was escaping from its bun, and as she scraped it back she caught sight of the gray hairs glistening at her hairline.

Harriet frowned. At thirty-nine she was aging fast—though it’s not like she did much to help herself. She didn’t wear makeup and her haircut was shapeless. Charlotte was always suggesting places to get it trimmed, but thirty-five pounds seemed far too excessive. Though maybe a bit of mascara would highlight the fact she had eyelashes and make her look less tired. Still, her clothes did nothing for her. Her entire wardrobe was gray or dark brown. She’d borrowed one of Charlotte’s bright pink scarves once, winding it around her neck to keep the chill out at the park, and she couldn’t believe the difference it made.