Her One Mistake(75)

“How could you have done this to me, Harriet?” He stood up and paced over to me, taking both of my wrists and pulling me up too. “I’ve always loved you, but that was never enough for you, was it?”

The sound of a car pulling up outside made us both jump. Was it my dad and Alice? Or Charlotte?

Brian grabbed my arms and pushed me against the wall, out of sight of the window so I couldn’t see who was coming. He arched his back to peer out, his eyes flicking back and forth. “Are you expecting anyone? I can see a woman in the car.”

It had to be Charlotte. She’d come for me, but now I regretted making that call, involving her further, and I wished there was some way I could stop her from coming any closer. If Brian saw her he’d never believe she had nothing to do with Alice.

“I don’t know,” I said, though he would know I was lying. Brian always knew everything, that was clear enough now.

He pursed his lips. With a jerk he leaned back and grabbed my handbag, which was sitting in full view on top of the side table. He pressed it into my chest, forcing me to take it. Then with one finger against my mouth he leaned in close to my ear and told me not to make a sound while we waited for the inevitable knock.

The loud rap on the door still surprised me. Silence. Then another knock. I waited for her to walk away, when all of a sudden a key was pushed into the lock. Brian’s face froze in panic as he gripped my arm, his fingers pinching my flesh hard.

It wasn’t Charlotte. It must’ve been the owner of the cottage. In seconds Brian was pulling me through the kitchen and out the back. Behind us the front door opened, but by then we were already making our way down the side path toward the front gate.

Brian wouldn’t stop running as he turned right and headed toward the cliff top. I yelped in pain as he raced down the hill, tugging on my wrist and making it burn. Each time I begged him to let go of me, his grip tightened. When we reached the cliff edge, he stopped.

The air was getting colder, the light beginning to fade. “Brian, tell me where she is,” I cried.

“I’ll do better than that,” he sneered, his fingernails piercing into my skin. The wind picked up from the sea as it carried his words toward me. “I’ll show you.”

But as he stared out at the sea I recognized the same flash of fear I’d seen that day he’d taken me for a picnic on the beach. I followed his gaze. The waves were choppy, encroaching onto the sand as the tide came in. Brian hated even looking at the water.

“You’re scaring me. Where are they?” I said.

With a shaking finger he pointed toward the horizon.

“Where are they, Brian?” I shouted. The feeling of helplessness almost drowned me.

“Out there,” he replied, and nodded toward the water.





Friday, April 21, 2017

When I spoke to my dad on the phone today he finally told me what Alice had said to him on Brownsea Island when they were looking at the peacocks. Now I get why he changed his mind about my plan.

Alice had told him she wasn’t a liar and my dad assured her of course she wasn’t. He asked whatever had given her that idea.

She said her daddy thinks she makes things up to make him angry. She told my dad about an incident with an ice cream that I had all but forgotten. On New Year’s Day, Brian had driven us to the New Forest. Alice hadn’t wanted to go, she preferred playing on the beach, but Brian had been adamant we walk in the woods. I had noticed by then how he liked to make plans for the three of us almost as if he were marking his place in the family.

I’d been walking ahead with Alice when I’d slipped into a rabbit hole and twisted my ankle. Brian had muttered in my ear that I’d done it on purpose. I told him that wasn’t the case, but despite his annoyance, I needed to go back to the car and rest it.

Alice hadn’t wanted to leave me because she didn’t like that I was hurt, but regardless Brian had dragged her over to the river to make her look at the fish. I’d watched through my side mirror for a bit as she agitatedly prodded the water with a stick. Eventually I’d looked away, the pain making me close my eyes and rest my head against the seat.

Fifteen minutes later they’d come back to the car and I’d noticed Alice’s eyes were red from crying. I’d asked her what was wrong and Brian had told me she was upset because she couldn’t have an ice cream from the van parked up the road.

I’d smiled and told her it was too cold for ice cream. My ankle was hurting and I’d been desperate to get home.

But Alice had given my dad her version of the story, which went more like this:

Brian told her if she looked a bit happier he’d get her an ice cream. As always, Alice wanted one that came in a cone and he told her she could even have sprinkles, too.

They’d watched the fish even though Alice wanted to ask me if my foot was better, just so she could have her treat.

But when he’d said that they were going home she’d asked again if they could go to the van, and Brian told her it was too cold.

She said he’d promised her an ice cream, but he told her flatly that he never had. Alice went on to say that he’d even said she could have sprinkles, but then her daddy crouched down until they were at eye level and snapped at her to stop making things up. He said that no one likes a liar.

Then he grabbed her arm and led her back to the car, telling her she was ungrateful. Before they reached me he turned to her and asked if she wanted him to tell me she was turning into a liar or if she’d rather they kept it between the two of them.