by Heidi Perks
Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Now
Charlotte’s story
Before
Now
Before
Now
Before
Now
Before
Now
Before
Now
Before
Now
Before
Harriet’s story
Now
Before
Now
Before
Now
One Year Later
Acknowledgements
Copyright
About the Book
She was your responsibility. And now she’s missing.
Charlotte is looking after her best friend’s daughter the day she disappears. She thought the little girl was playing with her own children. She swears she only took her eyes off them for a second.
Now, Charlotte must do the unthinkable, tell her best friend Harriet that her only child is missing. The child she was meant to be watching.
Devastated, Harriet can no longer bear to see Charlotte. No one could expect her to trust her friend again.
Only now she needs to. Because two weeks later Harriet and Charlotte are both being questioned separately by the police. And secrets are about to surface.
How far would you go to put things right?
About the Author
Heidi Perks worked as a marketing director for a financial company before leaving to become a full-time mother and writer. She is a voracious reader of crime and thrillers and endlessly interested in what makes people tick. Heidi lives in Bournemouth with her family.
For Bethany and Joseph
Dream big and believe in yourselves
NOW
‘My name is Charlotte Reynolds.’ I lean forward as I speak into the tape recorder, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it just feels imperative that I at least get my name across clearly. Reaching out for the glass in front of me I grip it between my fingertips, pushing it slowly in anticlockwise circles, watching the water inside it ripple into tiny ridges. I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath until I let it out in a large puff.
The clock on the otherwise bare white wall flashes 21:16 in bright red lights. My children will be in bed by now. Tom said he will stay the night and sleep in the spare room. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told me when I called him earlier. ‘I won’t go anywhere until you’re home.’ This isn’t what I’m worrying about but I don’t say as much.
Home feels so far away from this airless whitewashed room with its three chairs and desk and the tape recorder balanced on one end of it, and I wonder how long I will be here. How long can they keep me before they decide what comes next? Ever since the fete I have dreaded leaving my children. I’d do anything to be tucking them into their beds right now so I can breathe in their familiar smells, read them that one more story they always beg for.
‘They’re not holding you there, are they?’ Tom had asked me on the phone.
‘No, they just want to ask me a few questions.’ I brushed off the fact I was in a police station as if it were nothing. I didn’t tell Tom that the detective had asked if I wanted someone to be with me, that I’d refused and had assured her as breezily as I could that I didn’t need anyone as I’d happily tell her what I knew.
My fingers begin to tingle and I pull them away from the glass and hold them under the table, squeezing them tightly, willing the blood to rush back in.
‘So, Charlotte,’ the detective starts in a slow drawl. She has asked me if she can use my first name but hasn’t offered me the privilege in return. I know her name is Suzanne because she said as much into the tape, but I expect she knows I won’t call her that. Not when she introduced herself as Detective Inspector Rawlings. It’s a small point but it reinforces who is in control.
My breath sticks tightly in my throat as I wait for her to ask me what I was doing there tonight. In many ways the truth would be the easy option. I wonder if I tell her she’d let me leave now so I can go home to my children.
The detective is interrupted by a knock on the door and she looks up as a police officer pokes her head into the room. ‘DCI Hayes is on his way from Dorset,’ the officer says. ‘ETA three hours.’
Rawlings nods her thanks and the door closes again. Hayes is the Senior Investigating Officer in what has become the Alice Hodder case. He has become a constant fixture in my life over the last two weeks and I wonder if this means I will be kept here until he arrives because I assume he will want to speak to me. The thought that I could be cooped inside this room for another three hours makes the walls close in deeper. I don’t remember ever feeling claustrophobic but right now the sense of being trapped makes me feel light-headed and my eyes flicker as they try to adjust again.
‘Are you OK?’ DI Rawlings asks. Her words sound rough. They give the impression it would annoy her if I weren’t. She has dyed blonde hair scraped back into a tight bun, which shows the black of her roots. She looks young, no more than thirty, and has plastered too much bright red lipstick on to her very full lips.
I hold a hand against my mouth and hope the feeling of nausea will pass. I nod and reach for the glass of water to take a sip. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Thank you, I’ll be OK. I just feel a little sick.’
DI Rawlings purses her red lips and sits back in her chair. She’s in no rush. She may want it to appear that the evening’s events have disturbed her plans but her pregnant pauses betray she has nothing better to do.
‘So,’ she starts again and asks her first question but it isn’t the one I’m expecting. ‘Let’s begin by you telling me what happened thirteen days ago,’ she says instead. ‘The day of the fete.’
Charlotte’s story
BEFORE
Charlotte
At dead on ten o’clock on Saturday morning the doorbell rang and I knew it would be Harriet because she was never a minute late. I emerged from the bathroom, still in my pyjamas, as the bell rang a second time. Flicking back the curtains to be sure it was them, I saw Harriet hovering on the doorstep, her arm tightly gripped around her daughter’s shoulder. Her head hung low as she spoke to Alice. The little girl beside her nodded as she turned and nestled her head into her mother’s waist.
My own children’s screams erupted from downstairs. The two girls’ voices battled to be heard over one another. Evie was now drowning out Molly with a constant, piercing whine and, as I ran down the stairs, I could just make out Molly crying at her younger sister to shut up.
‘Will you both stop shouting,’ I yelled as I reached the bottom. My eldest, Jack, sat obliviously in the playroom, earphones on, zoned into a game on the iPad that I wished Tom had never bought him. How I sometimes envied Jack’s ability to shut himself into his own world. I picked Evie off the floor, wiping a hand across her damp face and rubbing at the Marmite smeared upwards from both corners of her mouth. ‘You look like the Joker.’
Evie stared back at me. At three she was still suffering from the terrible twos. She had at least thankfully stopped bawling and was now kicking one foot against the other. ‘Come on, let’s play nicely for Alice’s sake,’ I said as I opened the door.
‘Hi Harriet, how are you doing?’ I crouched down next to Alice and smiled at the little girl who continued to bury her head into her mum’s skirt. ‘Are you looking forward to the school fete today, Alice?’
I didn’t expect an answer, but I ploughed on regardless. Besides, once Molly took her under her wing, Alice would happily follow her around like a puppy. In turn my six-year-old would have an air of smug superiority because finally a younger child was looking up to her.
‘Th
ank you again for today,’ Harriet said as I straightened up.
I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s a pleasure. You know it is. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve begged you to let me have Alice for you,’ I grinned.
Harriet’s right hand played with the seam of her skirt, balling it up then pressing it down flat, and for a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I expected her to be apprehensive, I’d even thought she might have cancelled.
‘But with four of them, are you sure—’ she started.
‘Harriet,’ I cut her off. ‘I’m more than happy to take Alice to the fete. Please don’t worry about it.’
Harriet nodded. ‘I’ve already put sun cream on her.’
‘Oh. That’s good.’ That meant I now had to find sun cream for my own. Did I have any?
‘Well, it’s so hot and I don’t want her burning …’ she drifted off, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
‘You are looking forward to your course today, aren’t you?’ I asked. ‘Only you don’t look like you are. You should be, it’s exactly what you need.’
Harriet shrugged and looked at me blankly. ‘It’s bookkeeping,’ she said.
‘I know, but it’s what you want to do. It’s great that you’re planning your future.’
I meant it, even though I’d originally turned my nose up at the fact it was bookkeeping. I’d tried to convince Harriet to do a gardening course instead because she would make a brilliant gardener. I could picture her running around town with her own little van and told her I’d even design a website for her. Harriet had looked as if she was mulling the idea over but eventually said that gardening didn’t pay as much.
‘You could do my garden for me,’ I’d said. ‘I need someone to come and give me some new ideas. I would—’ I stopped abruptly because I’d been about to say I’d pay her more than the going rate but I knew my good intentions weren’t always taken in the right way when it came to money.
‘How about teaching?’ I’d said instead. ‘You know how wonderful you’d be. Just look at the way you were with Jack when I first met you.’
‘I’d have to train to be a teacher and that won’t get me a job this September,’ she’d replied and averted her gaze. I knew her well enough to know when to stop.
‘Then bookkeeping it is,’ I’d said, smiling, ‘and you’ll be great at that too.’ Even if it wasn’t what I’d do, at least Harriet was thinking about a time past September when Alice started school and she could concentrate on something for herself. I had another two long years until Evie started and I could get back some semblance of a career instead of two days a week working for the twenty-something upstart who’d once reported to me.
‘Oh, I haven’t packed a picnic or anything,’ Harriet said suddenly.
‘I’m not bothering with picnics.’ I brushed a hand through the air. ‘We can get something there. The PTA invest more in food stalls than anything else,’ I joked.
‘Right.’ Harriet nodded her head but didn’t smile, after a moment adding, ‘Let me get you some money.’
‘No,’ I said firmly, hopefully not too sharply. ‘No need, let me do it.’
‘But it’s not a problem.’
‘I know it isn’t,’ I smiled. ‘But please, let me do this, Harriet. The girls are excited Alice is joining us and we’re going to have a great day. Please don’t worry about her,’ I said again, holding my hand out towards Alice, though she didn’t take it.
Harriet bent down and pulled her daughter in for a hug and I watched the little girl melt into her mother’s chest. I took a step back feeling like I should give them some space. There was such a tight bond between Harriet and her daughter that felt so much more raw than anything I had with my children, but I also knew what a big deal today was for her. Because, despite Alice being four, Harriet had never left her daughter with anyone before today.
I’d been thrilled when I’d first left Evie overnight with my friend Audrey, and she’d been barely two months old. I’d had to coax Tom into coming to the pub with me and even though we were home by nine-thirty and I had crashed out on the sofa half an hour later it was worth it for a night of undisturbed sleep.
‘I love you,’ Harriet whispered into Alice’s hair. ‘I love you so much. Be a good girl, won’t you? And stay safe.’ She lingered in the hug, her arms pressing tighter around her daughter. When she pulled back she took hold of Alice’s face in her hands and gently pressed her lips against her daughter’s nose.
I waited awkwardly on the step for Harriet to eventually pull herself up. ‘Do you want to go and play with Molly in her bedroom before we go to the fete?’ I asked Alice, then turned to Harriet. ‘Do you still want me to drop her back at your house at five?’
Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, making no move to leave.
‘Please stop thanking me,’ I smiled. ‘I’m your best friend, it’s what I’m here for.’ Besides, I wanted to have Alice for her; Harriet had been there for me enough times over the last two years. ‘You know you can trust me,’ I added.
But then maybe we were a little more on edge than usual since a boy had been taken from the park last October. He was nine – the same age as Jack had been at the time – and it happened only the other side of Dorset. Close enough for us all to feel the threat, and still no one had any idea why he’d been taken or what had happened to him.
I reached out and took hold of my friend’s arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll take good care of her.’ And eventually Harriet stepped off my doorstep and I took Alice’s hand and brought her into the hallway.
‘You’ve got my number if you need me,’ Harriet said.
‘I’ll call if there’s a problem. But there won’t be,’ I added.
‘Brian’s fishing; he has his phone with him but he rarely answers it.’
‘OK, well I’ll get hold of you if need be,’ I said. I didn’t have Brian’s number anyway; there was no reason for me to. I wanted Harriet to hurry up and go. I was conscious I was still in my pyjamas and could see Ray from the house opposite staring as he mowed his front lawn in painfully slow stripes. ‘Harriet, you’ll be late,’ I said, deciding I needed to be firm with her now or I’d find her dithering on my doorstep for the rest of the day.
When Harriet eventually left I closed the door and took a deep breath. There was a time when I would have called out to Tom that Ray was watching me and we would laugh about it. It was at the oddest times that it struck me I had no one to share those moments with since we’d separated.
‘Ray caught me wearing my pyjamas,’ I said, grinning at Jack as he emerged from the playroom.
My son stared at me. ‘Can you get me a juice?’
I sighed. ‘No, Jack. You’re ten. You can get your own juice and can you say hello to Alice, please?’
Jack looked at Alice as if he had never seen her before. ‘Hello Alice,’ he said before disappearing into the kitchen.
‘Well that’s as good as it gets, I’m afraid.’ I smiled at Alice who had already taken Molly’s hand and was being led up the stairs. ‘Everyone, I’m going to have a shower and then we’ll get ready for the fete,’ I called out, but my words were met with silence.
When I reached the bedroom my mobile was ringing and Tom’s number flashed up on the screen. ‘We agreed seven p.m.,’ I said when I’d answered the phone.
‘What?’ he shouted over the noise of traffic.
I sighed and muttered under my breath for him to put the damn car roof up. I spoke louder. ‘I said seven p.m. I assume you’ve forgotten what time you were coming to sit with the kids tonight?’ Even though I’d only told him yesterday.
‘Actually I just wanted to check you definitely still need me.’
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. ‘Yes, Tom, I’m still planning to go out.’ I didn’t ask him often; I didn’t go out enough to have to. In the two years since we’d separated I had gradually realised I didn’t need to show him I was still having fun, an
d most of the time I wasn’t anyway. Now I was comfortable enough in my single life to only go out when I wanted to. Though, if I were being honest, I didn’t really fancy drinks with the neighbours tonight but I wasn’t going to give Tom the satisfaction of letting me down at the last minute.
‘It’s just something’s come up with work. I don’t have to go but it would look better if I’m there.’
I rubbed my hand over my eyes and silently screamed. I knew what my night would be like: awkward conversation over too much wine with neighbours who I had little in common with. Yet I felt I should go. Not only had I promised them, but I’d let them down the last time they had a drinks party and probably the time before that.
‘You told me you were free,’ I said flatly.
‘I know, and I’ll still come over if you really need me. It’s just that—’
‘Oh, Tom,’ I sighed.
‘I’m not backing out if you still want me. I was just checking you definitely want to go, that’s all. You never usually want to.’
‘Yes, I want to go,’ I snapped, hating that he still knew me so well. I wouldn’t get this hassle if I used a babysitter but I knew the kids loved having him over.
‘OK, OK, I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Seven o’clock.’
‘Thank you. And come on your own,’ I said, before I could help myself. I knew he would never bring his new girlfriend; he hadn’t even introduced her to the children yet.
‘Charlotte,’ he said. ‘You know you don’t have to say that.’
‘I’m just checking,’ I said sharply before putting the phone down and feeling irritatingly guilty. I didn’t have to say that because, despite the way he still annoyed me, I couldn’t fault Tom’s parenting. And we muddled through surprisingly well.
As I turned on the shower I tried not to think about why I was rattled by his latest relationship news. It wasn’t as if I wanted him back. Fifteen years of marriage hadn’t ended on a whim; by then we had gradually grown too far apart. Maybe I just didn’t like change, I thought, stepping into the shower. Maybe I had got too comfortable with the easy flow of my life.