by Heidi Perks
I stood at the front window, my hands splayed against the net curtains as they pressed against the glass. My heart burned with the crushing realization that whatever happened now, Alice would undoubtedly be taken from me. But all I wanted was to see her—I would risk everything to know my daughter was safe.
“Come back, Alice,” I called into the silent room and, as if in response to my plea, a shard of sunlight pierced through the window and flickered onto the patterned carpet. In a moment of clarity, I knew I had to take back control and figure out what I’d say if the police arrived or it got to the point I needed to call them.
Searching in my bag for my notebook, I took out the Elderberry Cottage business card I kept in the back pocket. I turned it over and stared at the blank space. Then I grabbed a pen from a jar on the mantel and sat in the armchair, chewing on the end of the pen as I thought. Carefully, in an impression of my father’s loopy scrawl, I wrote a short note on the back of the card.
It was crude and doubtfully sufficient, but as I read over it I figured it was better than nothing. I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans as the grandfather clock chimed six o’clock.
If Charlotte had walked out of her door the moment we’d hung up, she would have been here by now. Sitting up straight, I set deadlines. I would go back to the pay phone and call Charlotte again if she wasn’t here by seven.
I would call the police and tell them everything if my father and Alice hadn’t returned by eight.
• • •
AT HALF PAST six I peered out the window again, but the same quiet, motionless scene lay outside. The little street lined with bushes, the tall trees with the sun now dappling only the very top of them as it dropped behind the house. I wished something looked different, just so I could see there was still life out there.
My stomach grumbled with hunger, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so I searched the sparse kitchen cabinets. There were a few tins and a loaf of bread, a half-eaten packet of crackers, and a variety box of cereal with three boxes missing.
I ran my fingers over the cereals, trying to work out which ones had been eaten. Had Alice had one that morning? When was the last time she’d been in the house? It could have been days ago, I thought, with a surge of sickness rising through my stomach and up into my throat. I slammed the cabinet door shut just as there was a loud rap on the front door.
Automatically I froze. It felt too good to be true that it could be Charlotte. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? The police?
Slowly I crept toward the front door, looking through its obscured window, but not even a shadow flickered behind it.
I opened the door a crack and looked out, pulling it open wider. With a plummeting sense of disappointment, I realized there was no one there and that deep down I had thought it would be my friend. Closing my eyes to stem the threat of tears, a heavy sense of despair told me I should never have expected Charlotte to come.
I began pushing the door closed when I felt the slightest puff of breath against the back of my neck. The hairs on my arms pricked up, goose bumps splattered across my bare skin.
Someone was behind me.
I felt him. I smelled the woody scent of his aftershave. He was inside the house, standing in the hallway, breathing against my neck. I would have screamed if the sound hadn’t frozen in my throat.
“Hello, Harriet,” Brian murmured, his mouth so close to my ear I could almost feel the brush of his lips.
My hand shook violently against the doorknob as he reached over my shoulder to gently close it. “Surprise,” he whispered.
Slowly I turned around. Brian’s face was almost pressed against mine, skewed into a smirk though it couldn’t hide the wrath emanating from his empty eyes.
“Brian? What—?” I tried stepping away from him but there was nowhere to go as he’d trapped me against the front door. He must have gone down the side of the house and crept in through the back.
“What am I doing here?” he asked with his head cocked to one side. “Is that what you want to know? But where did you think I would be, Harriet?” He reached up and took a lock of my hair, winding it slowly around his fingers as he stroked it with his thumb.
I shook my head with the slightest of movements. My heart pounded, reverberating in my ears. He must have been able to hear it too.
“Maybe I should be asking what you’re doing here, don’t you think?” he asked. He tugged gently on my hair, and even though it wasn’t hard, I could feel its pull on my scalp. “Haven’t found Alice yet?” He gave me a smile that felt like a knife through my chest.
“Where is she?” I exhaled the question in one tight breath.
Brian smirked. “What a funny question.” His eyes traveled up to the top of my head as he tenderly stroked my hair. “How do you suppose I would know what’s happened to my daughter?”
“What have you done to her, Brian?” I cried. “Where’s Alice? Please, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring you?” he snarled. His face contorted into the pained shape I had seen so many times. Every one of my questions was angering him more.
I wanted to turn away but I resisted the urge, keeping my eyes on him. “If you’ve done something to her . . .”
“You’ll what?” he snapped. “Because the funny thing is, you’re the one who’s done something to her, aren’t you, Harriet?” With a sharp pull on my hair, Brian twisted my neck down with it. The pain shot through my shoulders and up into my head. “You let me believe my daughter was kidnapped.”
“Is she safe?” I pleaded. “Just tell me she’s safe.” The pain had shocked me because Brian had never been physical—but then I had never seen him this enraged before.
“Oh, isn’t she here?” he said, arching his eyebrows, leaning back and casually looking around.
“Please, Brian—”
“Shut up, Harriet.” He took his other hand off the door and pressed his palm flat against my mouth. “Stop your questions. Don’t you think I have a few of my own?”
The sound of my breath was unbearably loud as I was forced to breathe through my nose. I didn’t know how long I’d have to endure his torment before he’d tell me what had happened to my daughter. Or how he had found me.
When he removed his hand, Brian gently took hold of my bottom lip, squeezing it between two fingers. “And stop biting your lip,” he said. “You’ll make it bleed.” He rubbed his finger across it and then let go of me and casually strode off, sitting down on the sofa.
He knew I wouldn’t run; he knew I’d follow him and sit opposite in the armchair because he had things I wanted to hear and, as always, Brian was in control.
“I never thought you had it in you, Harriet,” he said. “You took Alice and made me believe the worst.” He shook his head, the light reflecting the moisture in his eyes. “Why did you do that to me? I was nothing but a good husband to you.”
When I didn’t answer, he carried on. “But it wasn’t just you, was it? It was your daddy. Come back from the dead.”
“How did you—?” I stopped. “Where’s Alice?” I said again. It didn’t matter how he knew so much, finding out what he had done to my daughter was more important.
“What did I ever do to make you hate me so much, Harriet?”
“You ruined my life,” I said, turning my head so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “You manipulated me and made me think I was losing my mind. You told me you’d take Alice away from me.” I couldn’t let him get away with it anymore. Not if he’d done something to her.
“No, Harriet. I never did,” he said firmly. “I would never do that.”
“You’re doing it now,” I murmured. “Please just tell me where she is.”
“I said if you ever left me I would find you, and look—” He gestured about himself. “I have.” He forced a smile that made him look incredibly pleased with himself as he clasped his hands together between his knees. “I won’t let you go, Harriet. I can’t ever let you leave me. I love
you. I love you both too much for that.”
“No. You don’t love me, Brian,” I said.
“You, you think you’re so clever,” he snapped, his hands unclasping and waving in the air. “Trying to get one over on me. Well, look around you, my love. You’re not really, are you? Because I’ve foiled your plan and look where you are now. Sitting in this god-awful cottage with no clue what’s happened to your daughter.
“Did you hope I’d get arrested for it?” he went on. I shook my head as he snorted. “But you will now, won’t you, Harriet? They’ll lock you up for what you’ve done. I could have told you your stupid idea would never work.”
“Where’s Alice?” I asked him again. I knew by now I had no chance of fighting for my own freedom.
“Don’t you want to know how I found them?” Brian said, still ignoring me. “Your notebook. A little bit stupid,” he said, pinching his fingers together to emphasize the word, “to write so many things in there.”
But I had never written my plan in the notebook. I’d only kept a record of the things Brian had told me and the way I believed them.
“I have to say, I’m quite surprised you allowed him to bring her here.” He screwed his nose up as he looked around the living room. Then he turned and smiled at me. “Ah, you’re wondering how I found the book, aren’t you?”
I shook my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Of course I wanted to know, I just needed to see my daughter first. “Just tell me what you’ve done to her. Tell me you haven’t hurt them.”
“You see, no one knows you like I do, Harriet. Since Alice went missing, there’s been something about your behavior that hasn’t quite fit. It was more than Alice; you were acting strangely, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then two days ago I saw you pouring a pint of milk down the sink before telling me we’d run out and you needed to buy more.”
I slumped back into the chair. Brian was always loitering in the last place I expected to find him.
“I followed you. I waited until you’d turned the corner at the end of the road and I came after you. When you went into the phone booth and came out again ten seconds later, I knew you couldn’t have made the call you wanted. So as soon as you disappeared around the corner, I went in after you and hit the redial button.”
My fists clenched tightly at my sides. How could I have been so stupid? I played back the memory in my head, but I knew I’d been so intent on calling my father I would never have noticed Brian following me.
“He answered thinking it was you. ‘Hello Harriet,’ ” Brian said with a snarl, failing to imitate my dad’s voice. “ ‘I’m sorry I didn’t pick up, but Alice was hanging upside down on a tree at the end of the yard.’ When I said nothing, he spoke again, a lot more nervously this time. ‘Harriet, is that you?’ ” Brian laughed and shook his head. “Eventually he hung up, and when I called back he didn’t answer. So that, my love, is how I found out you knew where our daughter was.”
“What makes you think it was my dad?” I said.
He chuckled. “Are you going to pretend it wasn’t? Alice was calling out in the background. I knew it was her, I just couldn’t work out what she was saying at first. Then I played it over and over in my head until I was convinced she was calling out ‘Grandpa.’ ”
I held a hand over my mouth to stop myself from crying out. My need to see my daughter was so desperate.
“It made me think that whoever had her was some sick old man trying to make her think he was her grandfather, because supposedly she didn’t have a real one, did she, Harriet?” Brian spat. “My father is dead, and allegedly so is yours,” he said. “But then I wondered, what if yours wasn’t? After all, you never went into much detail about him. Always clammed up when you mentioned his dying. Never gave me any detail; I’d no clue what had supposedly finished him off. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that he could still be alive.” Brian paused. “Anyway, I did a quick online search and found there was every possibility of it because there was no record of his death.
“I knew I wouldn’t get the truth out of you, so I watched you even closer. You don’t always know when I’m watching you, do you? When you came back with your milk you protested you felt ill and asked me to get you a glass of water, which I kindly did. But when I left the room, after you accused me of swapping the photo of Alice, I didn’t go downstairs like you thought. I waited for a while to see what you did next, how deep your deception ran.”
“God!” I cried. “My deception?”
“I saw you fussing around on the floor next to the bed, moving your bedside table, then pulling out a notebook. You hid it under a floorboard, didn’t you, Harriet? I found it when I looked there later. When you were downstairs I pulled it out for myself and read everything you’d ever written. I knew then for certain your dad was alive and it was clear you wanted to get away from me.
“I found the card for the cottage and called the number. I told the woman a friend of mine, Les Matthews, had recommended the place, and do you know what she said, Harriet? She said, ‘How funny. Les is staying in the cottage at the moment.’ That’s your dad’s name, isn’t it, Harriet?” He tapped the side of his head with his finger, leaning in closely, teeth bared in a smile. “See, I remember the things you told me. The ones you don’t lie about.” He leaned back, savoring his words.
“I went to see your best friend that night,” Brian said in a sudden change of conversation.
“Charlotte?” I asked, stunned.
“I thought she must’ve been involved too, but the poor cow doesn’t have a clue what you’ve done, does she? I paid a visit to my old fishing buddy yesterday too, Ken Harris. What happened there, Harriet? Your dad manage to have a word with him and get him to withdraw his alibi?”
“No,” I said. “No, my dad knows nothing about any of your fishing buddies.”
“No, well, the man’s a drunk anyway,” he said eventually. “Doesn’t have a clue who he sees and who he doesn’t. The good news is he’s making another statement for me. They’ll soon know I was there after all that day, though it won’t really matter now, will it, my love? Very soon everyone will know this is all down to you.
“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.