by Heidi Perks
The ten-minute drive to the school took us through our village of Chiddenford towards the outskirts where the small village green and quaint little shops made way for expansive areas of countryside. St Mary’s School grounds rivalled those of some private schools. On the opposite side of the road to the school sat its impressive field, which backed on to parkland.
It was here that I first met Harriet, five years ago, when she was working as a teaching assistant. I’d always thought she’d end up sending Alice to the school, but the drive from their house was a nightmare. It was a shame because it would have helped Alice’s confidence having Molly two years above.
It must have been well past midday by the time we finally arrived at the fete, joining the long snake of cars as they approached the corner of the field that had been cordoned off as a makeshift car park.
Underneath the brightly coloured bunting strung across the entrance, Gail Turner was waving cars through as if she ran the school rather than just the PTA. When she saw me she gestured at me to wind down my window, her white teeth flashing brightly in the sun. ‘Hello, lovely, how lucky are we with the weather?’ she called through my open window. ‘I feel like I’ve been personally blessed.’
‘Very lucky, Gail,’ I said. ‘Can I park anywhere?’ Four-by-fours and people carriers like mine were already squeezing into tight spaces they’d be unlikely to get out of easily. ‘Why’s it so busy?’
‘My marketing probably,’ she beamed. ‘I tried to speak to as many parents as possible to make sure they were coming.’
‘So where can I park?’ I asked her, flashing my own patient smile back.
‘Hold on, my lovely, let me see if I can find you a VIP space.’ She turned away from the window and I rolled my eyes at Jack who sat beside me. When Gail turned back she pointed at a spot at the far end. ‘Go over there,’ she smiled. ‘No one will block you in.’
‘Thanks, Gail,’ I said as I slowly pulled away. Being friends with her had some advantages.
It was the hottest day on record for May, the DJ on the radio had said that morning. As I climbed out of the car, the pink sundress I’d plucked from the wardrobe was already starting to cut into the skin under my arms and I regretted not wearing flip-flops. Lifting my hair up I tied it into a ponytail and rifled through my bag for my sunglasses, rubbing at a scratch on one of the lenses before putting them on, promising myself I’d look for the case when I got home. ‘Hundred-and-fifty-pound Oakley sunglasses should not be shoved to the bottom of your bag,’ Audrey had once sighed, and I agreed with her but still I had no idea where the case was.
‘Mummy? I need the toilet,’ Evie cried as soon as we made it into the field.
‘Oh, Evie, you have to be kidding,’ I muttered, grabbing my dress out of her hands. ‘And please don’t tug on my clothes, darling.’ I pulled the top of my dress back up and looked down to see if she’d revealed my bra. ‘I’ve asked you not to do that.’
‘But I need to go. I can go on my own.’
‘No, Evie, you really can’t,’ I sighed. ‘You are only three years old.’
‘I can go with Jack.’
I turned back to Jack who was dawdling behind me, his head still stuck in his iPad, brow furrowed in deep concentration as he fought dragons. Jack was ten now and had accomplished major skills in flicking and tapping and swiping anything that posed a threat. I knew I should make him spend less time on gadgets. I’d even been told it wasn’t conducive to the much-needed improvement of his social skills but despite all that I also knew my son was happiest when he was in his own private world.
He looked so much like Tom, with his thick, dark hair and the way his eyes scrunched up when he was trying hard. I smiled at him, even though he remained completely oblivious, and when I turned back to Evie I realised I’d lost sight of the other two. ‘Where are Molly and Alice? They were both right here. Evie?’ I cried. ‘Where have Molly and Alice gone?’
Evie pointed a chubby finger towards the cake stall. ‘Over there.’
I let out a breath as I saw them idly staring at the sugar-topped fairy cakes that had been delivered in hundreds by the mums. My daughter had a hand grasped tightly around Alice’s arm and was talking at her and pointing out cakes as if she were about to reach out and pinch one.
‘Girls! Stay with me,’ I called. Streams of people wove in and out of the stalls and Molly and Alice were momentarily lost behind a family – a large father with a T-shirt that read ‘Los Pollos Chicken’, and his equally large wife stuffing a doughnut into her mouth. I edged towards the cake stall, peering between the legs of the kids trawling behind the couple.
‘Molly! Come back here, now.’ The two girls finally appeared. Meanwhile, Evie was bouncing from one foot to the other and tugging on my dress again.
‘When can we get candyfloss?’ Molly asked. ‘I’m starved.’
‘And I really, really need the toilet now, Mummy,’ Evie shouted, stamping a little pink shoe into the grass. ‘Urrrgh, I’ve got mud all over my feet,’ she cried, shaking her foot and kicking me in the leg.
‘It’s a bit of soil, and I did tell you those shoes weren’t the most practical footwear for a field,’ I said, wiping the dirt from her foot and my shin. ‘And try and watch what you’re doing, Evie. You hurt Mummy.’
‘I’m dirty,’ Evie screamed, falling into a pile on the ground. ‘I need the toilet.’ I looked around me, praying no one was watching. A couple of mums glanced in my direction but turned away again quickly. I could feel the heat spreading rapidly to my cheeks as I decided whether to walk away and leave her writhing on the ground or pick her up and give in just to save face.
‘Oh Evie,’ I sighed. ‘We’ll go behind that tree.’ I waved my hand towards the side of the field.
Evie’s eyes lit up.
‘But do it subtly. Try not to draw attention to us,’ I said as I pulled her over to the tree. ‘And then we can go and get candyfloss,’ I called to the others behind me. ‘And we can find the bouncy castles too – would everyone like that?’ I asked, but if they answered I didn’t hear them above the noise of the crowd.
Despite the start of a niggling headache, I ordered myself a coffee from the candyfloss stall. It felt inappropriate to get a glass of Pimm’s when I had four children to watch and coffee was almost the next best thing. I looked around and waved at friends I spotted in the distance. Audrey tottered across the field, wearing ridiculously high-heeled sandals. Her hair was piled high on her head, a shawl draped over her shoulders, and a long satin skirt swished behind her as she walked. Audrey was completely not dressed for either the weather or a school fete but she didn’t care. She waved back at me, grinning and gesturing at all the children huddled beside me with a look of mock horror. I shrugged as if I couldn’t care less that I was on my own with so many children to look after.
I saw Karen and smiled to myself as she stood outside the beer tent waving her arms dramatically, no doubt desperate to get the attention of her husband who’d most likely tried to hide but would never get away with it for long.
‘So the bouncy castles next?’ I asked, when each of the kids were happily picking at the sticky pink floss. We began walking towards the furthest side of the field where I could make out the tip of an inflatable slide. ‘Look how big that one is.’
‘I want to go on that one instead.’ Molly’s eyes widened as she pointed to a huge inflatable that stretched back to the very edge of the field. It was bright green with inflatable palm trees swaying on the top and the words ‘Jungle Run’ plastered down the side. Molly ran over to look inside its mesh windows, and for once Jack was close at her heels.
‘It’s awesome,’ she cried. ‘Come and have a look, Alice.’ Obligingly, Alice ambled over behind her and peered through the window. My heart went out to Alice, as it often did, seemingly happy to go along with whatever the others decided, but sometimes I wished she would speak up and say what she wanted to do. I rarely knew if she was happy or simply didn’t have the confidence to say ot
herwise.
‘Can we go on, Mum?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes, of course you can.’ It was the kind of thing I would have loved as a child, and would have revelled in dragging my sister through.
Alice pulled back and looked up at me.
‘You don’t have to go on it if you don’t want to,’ I said.
‘Of course you want to, don’t you, Alice?’ Molly piped up.
‘Molly, she can make up her own mind.’ I pulled out my purse to count out change. ‘Would you rather stay with me?’ I said to Alice.
‘I’m not going,’ Evie interrupted. ‘I’m going on the slide.’
‘Would you like to go on the slide with Evie?’
‘No, I’ll go with Molly,’ she said quietly, and I realised those were the first words she’d said to me all day.
‘Right, well stick together all of you. And Jack, watch out for the girls, won’t you?’ I called to him, though I doubted he heard me. He was already halfway up the side of the Jungle Run.
I passed the money to a mum I didn’t recognise and, when I looked back, they were already out of sight.
‘Come on, Mummy.’ Evie tugged at my dress again.
‘Five minutes, Evie,’ I said. ‘They’ve got five minutes on this and then we’ll go on the slide.’ I needed to sit down in the shade. My head was starting to thump and the coffee wasn’t making it any better. ‘Let’s go and watch that magic show being set up and then I promise you can go on it.’
Evie was absorbed in watching the magician, which meant she was momentarily silent. I pulled my phone out of my bag as a matter of habit and checked my messages, reading a text from my neighbour about the drinks party that night, asking everyone to come round the back so we didn’t disturb the baby.
I looked at my emails and pressed a link that took me to Facebook, reading some inane quiz and then scrolling through posts, getting caught up in everyone else’s lives.
I glanced over and saw the children tumbling down the small slide at the end of the Jungle Run and then running around the back again before I or anyone else had the chance to tell them their time was up. I commented on a picture of a friend’s holiday and updated my status that I was enjoying the hot weather at the school fete.
When I eventually got up and told Evie she could go on the slide, we went back to the Jungle Run, laughing as Jack hurled himself over the edge at the end and fell on to his back at the bottom.
‘That was awesome,’ he cried, picking himself up and coming to stand next to me.
I threw an arm over his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug and for once I didn’t feel him tense. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Where are the girls?’
Jack shrugged.
‘Oh Jack, I told you to look out for them.’
‘They should have kept up with me,’ he said smugly.
We watched Molly throw herself over the top of the slide and plummet down. ‘Ha, I beat you by a mile,’ Jack laughed.
‘That’s because you pushed me at the start. Mummy, Jack hurt my arm.’
‘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, marvelling 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 on Monday, so I had to 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, throwing himself over the edge and 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 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 course. She looked around the room and wondered why no one else seemed reluctant as they clicked off their mobiles 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 have never left my daughter with anyone before, she protested silently. How can you possibly expect me not to be contactable when someone else has Alice?
In the end she decided to switch her phone on to silent and balance it carefully on top of her handbag so she would catch it flashing if anyone called or texted. With the decision came a tiny burst of relief that she had overcome the problem. She pulled out her pad and placed it in front of her so she could take notes.
As she listened to the teacher, Yvonne, making 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 room 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 soon, she wondered if she could escape to the toilet and dampen her forehead with cold water. Then she could check her phone again 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 beyond. Already she felt herself breathing more easily.
‘You had enough too?’ a voice rang out from behind her.
Harriet turned round to see a young girl from the course 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 towards 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, of course.’ 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 round the corner, and Harriet slipped into the toilets.
Letting out a deep breath as she ran cold water over her wrists, Harriet stared at her reflection in the mirror. 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 grey strands glistening at her hairline.
Harriet frowned. At thirty-nine, she was ageing fast – though it was not as if she did much to help herself. She didn’t wear make-up 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. And her clothes did nothing for her. Her entire wardrobe was grey or dark brown. She’d borrowed one of Charlotte’s bright-pink scarves once, winding it round her neck to keep the chill out at the park, and she couldn’t believe the difference it made.
Once she had cooled down, Harriet grabbed the phone out of her bag and tapped the button to light up the screen. When nothing happened she pressed the side button to turn it on but the screen remained black.
‘Come on,’ she muttered, her stomach clenching by reflex. She pressed it again and again, but nothing came on. The phone must have run out of battery, but she didn’t know how. She’d plugged it in the night before, as she always did when she went to bed. Harriet remembered doing so because she knew she needed it today more than ever.
Maybe she had forgotten.
No, she definitely didn’t forget. She’d made a point of charging it, just before making a cup of tea to take to bed. She remembered because she’d checked it again on her way out of the kitchen. Yet somehow the phone was dead.
Harriet threw it back into her bag. Now she had no idea what was going on at the fete and no one had any way of telling her. And suddenly the stupidity of the phone’s lack of battery made her want to burst into tears.
She gulped back a sob. It pained her to be away from Alice. It made her heart burn, but no one understood that. So Harriet had learned to play down how much she wanted to hold on to her daughter, how she hated the thought of letting her out of her sight. She saw the way Charlotte’s friends glanced at each other when she admitted she’d never been away from Brian or Alice overnight.
‘She’d cope without you,’ Charlotte would say. ‘Doesn’t Brian want you all to himself for the odd night?’ Harriet tried imagining what Brian would say if she ever suggested it. He’d probably be thrilled at the idea.