by Heidi Perks
But then Harriet told me hers had died when she was five and I immediately felt a pang of guilt because surely that was so much worse than what I had gone through?
‘It was years ago,’ she said as she pressed her hand into mine. ‘Please don’t feel bad.’
But despite her smile and the way she looked at me so assuredly, I had seen a glimmer of tears in her eyes and knew she was just trying to convey that I hadn’t upset her. Deep down I could sense she was still hurting at the loss and even then, right at the start of our friendship, I’d felt guilty.
‘Time is a great healer, isn’t it?’ Harriet said. ‘Don’t they say that?’
‘They do, but I’m not entirely sure I agree,’ I mumbled.
‘No,’ she smiled. ‘I’m not sure I do either.’
It was only after the briefest of pauses that I found myself asking her to join me and my mum friends for coffee the following week. Harriet looked taken aback and I assumed she would turn me down.
But instead she thanked me and told me she’d love to and while I smiled at her and said that was wonderful I immediately wondered if I’d been too hasty with my invite. The other mums wouldn’t like that they couldn’t talk freely about the school, and Harriet would be my responsibility and I didn’t think I needed any more of those.
When I told Audrey what I’d done, she raised an eyebrow.
‘Give her a chance, I think you’ll like her,’ I said. ‘Besides, she doesn’t know anyone else in the area.’
Harriet hadn’t any other friends, I realised early on. Tom called her another of my pet projects, which had disproportionately annoyed me, but there was something about Harriet that made me want to take her under my wing. I decided I could help her. First step – she needed to meet more people.
‘Harriet had only moved to Dorset a few months earlier,’ I tell DI Rawlings now. ‘I wanted her to feel welcome.’
‘And how did she settle into your group?’ the detective asks me.
‘Well.’ I pause. ‘She didn’t really. Whenever she came along she always looked uncomfortable so in the end I stopped inviting her. I didn’t want her to feel awkward when it obviously wasn’t her thing.’
DI Rawlings’s eyebrows flicker upwards and I fidget on my hard seat. ‘I knew she didn’t want to be there,’ I protest. ‘I knew she wasn’t that keen on some of them.’
‘But you carried on your friendship with Harriet?’
‘Yes, although not so much at the start. I still chatted to her whenever I saw her but it wasn’t until she had Alice and I had Evie that we started meeting up regularly. By then all my other friends had school-age children and were doing different things with their days. Harriet and I kept each other company.’
Harriet stopped me from going crazy. She became a friend at a time when I needed someone like her more than ever. When everyone else I knew could go back to work or to the gym or spend hours in coffee shops without feeling drained from a night of no sleep and very quickly forgot what it was like to have a newborn.
‘I wasn’t happy after Evie was born and Harriet was a good listener,’ I say. ‘On top of that my marriage was struggling and I used to offload on to her.’ Much more so than Audrey back then, as Harriet had always been so keen to help.
‘So you became close. You shared things?’ DI Rawlings asks.
‘We talked as friends do.’
‘Would you consider yourself best friends?’
‘She’s one of my best friends, yes,’ I say, thinking of Aud and how the two of them couldn’t be more different. But don’t friends play different roles in our lives?
‘How would Harriet answer that?’ she asks.
Harriet would say I’m her only friend.
‘She’d say the same,’ I tell her.
I imagine what Rawlings must be thinking but she doesn’t ask the question that hangs on the edge of her lips.
What would Harriet say now?
BEFORE
Harriet
Brian and PC Shaw’s murmured voices blended into the background as Harriet stared at her back garden through the kitchen window. She’d always loved the garden. It was nothing like Charlotte’s – it didn’t have space for a wooden climbing frame and double swings, or a fourteen-foot trampoline and playhouse. But previously she had only ever known a life of living in flats and making do with strips of balconies.
The garden was the only thing Harriet had liked about the house when they first moved in. Five years ago, when Brian had pulled up outside the thin semi he’d bought for them, her heart had plummeted. Their move to Dorset had been sold to her as her dream – the house on the coast, where Harriet had imagined opening the windows in the morning and smelling the sea air. Hearing the squawk of seagulls circling overhead, maybe even glimpsing the water from a bedroom window.
Harriet hadn’t actually wanted to leave Kent but it was Brian’s portrayal of life in Dorset that finally persuaded her. It was, after all, what she’d always wished for as a child. So as they followed the removal van south-west, Harriet warmed to the idea enough to allow herself to get a little excited.
Besides, it was their chance to start afresh. Brian was trying to put the past behind them. He’d procured a new job in Dorset and found them a house. Her husband was making an effort so the least she could do was try and put her heart into it too, and on the drive down Harriet considered that relocating her whole life might not be such a bad idea. So she’d have no friends and would have to find another job but maybe none of that really mattered. And if it meant them being together in her house by the sea then it had to be worth it.
When they’d stopped outside the house, Harriet thought the removal company had made a mistake. They’d turned off from the coast road at least ten minutes earlier. She couldn’t even walk to the beach from where they sat in the parked car, let alone see it. She’d peered up to the house and back to Brian, who’d unclicked his seat belt and was beaming at her.
The house was nothing like the picture in her head – the one with its large windows and wooden shutters. All the houses on this road looked like they had been squeezed in and no one had bothered finishing them. The house itself looked embarrassed by its appearance, with its peeling paint and roof tiles stained with yellow moss.
Brian squeezed her hand. ‘This is it. The next chapter in our life together. What do you think?’
It crossed her mind her husband must have known this wouldn’t be the house she’d dreamed of. But then she looked at his face and immediately felt a rush of guilt, pushing aside her worries that he was still upset with her and telling him she loved it.
She didn’t.
Brian led her inside and showed her each of the rooms while Harriet held back the urge to scream. Everywhere was so cramped and dark. She wanted to rip down the walls of the characterless, square rooms just to let the sunlight in.
Yet the house was still bigger than what she’d grown up in. As a child Harriet had lived with her mum in a twobed, first-floor flat that overlooked a concrete park. The flat could have tucked quite nicely inside the semi twice over. So she knew she shouldn’t have anything to complain about, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d never be happy here.
The back garden was her haven, though, kept immaculately by its previous owners. Harriet soon learned the names of all the flowers that ran up the left-hand side along the fence that still needed repairing. It had blown inwards during the winter winds and Brian was adamant it was the responsibility of the neighbour, though she knew he would end up repairing it rather than get embroiled in a disagreement with him.
Then once Alice was born Harriet began taking her first coffee of the day on the patio bench while her daughter played in the sandpit at the far end of the garden. ‘I’ve made you a sand pie, Mummy,’ her little girl would call out.
‘Wonderful, darling, I’ll enjoy that with my coffee.’
‘Do you want a blueberry on top?’
‘Oh, yes please.’
Then A
lice would totter across the grass, fixed concentration on the pile of sand, making sure it reached her mum in one piece. And Harriet would take the pie and pretend to eat it, rubbing her tummy as she laughed.
The memory hit Harriet with a surge of dread that made her double over at the kitchen sink. She could see her baby so clearly – and yet she was gone.
PC Shaw’s voice broke her thoughts and the image of Alice fractured into a thousand pieces before dissolving completely.
‘Mrs Hodder, are you OK?’ the policewoman persisted.
Harriet turned to see the woman waving a photo of Alice that Brian had plucked out of an album. She took the photo and traced a finger over her daughter’s face.
‘This isn’t a good picture of her. She wasn’t happy here.’ Harriet remembered that Alice had dropped her ice cream and Brian had stopped Harriet from getting her another one. Alice had to be persuaded to smile for the camera, which meant her eyes weren’t sparkling like they usually were.
‘Well, we just need one to circulate. Is it a good likeness of your daughter?’
Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, but—’ She was about to say she’d prefer to find a better one when the doorbell rang. She looked nervously at the officer and then through to the hallway, where Brian was already emerging from the living room.
‘I expect it’s Angela Baker,’ the officer said. ‘She’ll be your FLO. Family Liaison Officer,’ she added when Harriet looked blank.
Brian opened the door, stepping aside to let the visitor in. The woman introduced herself as Detective Constable Angela Baker, telling Brian he could call her Angela, a fact she repeated when she came into the kitchen and saw Harriet.
Angela had a sensible, neat brown bob of hair that didn’t move when the rest of her did. She wore a grey suede skirt, flat brown shoes, and a cardigan that she took off and carefully laid over the back of a kitchen chair. ‘I’m here for you both,’ she explained. ‘You can ask me anything and I’ll be your main point of contact so it doesn’t get too confusing for you.’ She smiled again. ‘Maybe I can start by making us all a cup of tea?’ Angela gestured to the kettle. ‘And we can go through everything that will help us find your daughter as soon as possible. Will you come and sit down?’
Harriet obligingly sat at the table, watching PC Shaw who had murmured a goodbye and was leaving the kitchen. She wondered what the arrival of a new detective meant for them. Meanwhile Brian had insisted he would make a cup of tea for everyone as he pulled out a chair for Angela.
‘Thank you very much, Brian,’ she smiled at him, and Harriet immediately wondered if she shouldn’t have been so ready to let their new guest make the drinks but at the same time she had no desire to do it.
‘So you’re a detective?’ Brian asked her.
‘I am,’ she said. ‘I’m here to update you on progress and if there’s anything you need you can ask me. We find families prefer having one person to speak to, someone they can get to know.’
‘But ultimately you’re a detective?’ Brian asked again.
‘Yes. I’ll be liaising with the officers who are looking for Alice,’ she said.
Harriet knew that wasn’t what Brian meant but he didn’t respond as he dropped teabags into mugs and took the milk from the fridge, giving the bottle a little shake as he did by habit before carefully pouring it in. They both knew Angela was also there to gather information from inside their four walls that could be fed back to the officers at the station.
‘I don’t feel like we know anything,’ he said when the tea was made and he carefully placed mugs in front of Angela and Harriet. ‘PC Shaw didn’t tell us much. We don’t even know who’s looking for Alice.’
Brian always had a light tan on his face and his cheeks usually wore a ruddy tinge above his neatly trimmed stubble, but right then they were drained of colour. Harriet was grateful for him making conversation. If she opened her mouth she was afraid she might break down again and that wouldn’t get them anywhere.
‘Well, right now there are many officers looking for her,’ Angela said as Brian pulled out a chair and joined them at the table.
‘Where are they looking?’ he asked. ‘How many people have you got out there?’
‘As many as we have. We’re treating your daughter’s disappearance as the highest priority.’
‘Will you find her?’ he asked, his words cracking as they left his mouth.
‘We will,’ Angela replied and she looked so certain that for a moment Harriet believed they would.
‘But you haven’t found the other one,’ Brian continued. ‘He’s still missing after months.’
‘There’s no reason to think that the two cases have anything to do with each other at this stage.’
‘But they might,’ he persisted. ‘That kid went missing exactly like Alice, so of course they could be linked.’
‘Mason,’ Harriet said quietly. ‘His name is Mason.’
They both paused and glanced at her. It felt like they’d both forgotten she was there. Angela’s features softened even further, looking at Harriet with what she hoped wasn’t pity. But Mason Harbridge wasn’t just a kid; he was a boy with a name and a mother who publicly fell to pieces. Harriet knew everything about the case, having pored over the news, becoming obsessed with the story as it unfolded bit by bit. The fact he had gone missing from a village like theirs in Dorset made it feel so close to home.
More than once fingers had been pointed at the parents, but Harriet didn’t believe they were involved. Her heart went out to them when she saw the press invading their lives, exposing everything about their family for the world to see. No one thought that seven months would pass and there’d still be no news of little Mason.
‘Like I said, there’s nothing at all linking Alice’s disappearance to Mason’s,’ Angela was saying. ‘As far as we know at this stage, your daughter walked away from the fete of her own volition and is lost.’
‘I just can’t believe no one saw anything,’ Brian cried, shaking his head as he pushed himself back in his chair. ‘There must have been crowds of people there.’ He looked from Angela to Harriet. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘I don’t get it at all.’ He stood up and walked to the sink, holding his hands together in front of his lips as if in prayer. ‘God, I mean why, Harriet?’
‘Why what?’ she asked, although she knew exactly what he meant.
‘You know what I mean,’ he said, turning round. ‘Why was Alice with Charlotte? Why wasn’t she with you? Where were you?’
Harriet bit her bottom lip. She felt Angela’s eyes on her.
‘I was on a course,’ she said.
‘A course? What do you mean, a course?’ He took his hands and rested them on the counter either side of him as if he was trying to steady himself. ‘Harriet,’ he said again, ‘what course are you talking about?’
‘A bookkeeping course,’ she said finally.
He stared at her, his whole body frozen, until his lips eventually moved but without making a sound. When they did, his voice was soft. ‘I knew nothing about a bookkeeping course,’ he said. ‘You never mentioned it to me.’
‘I did,’ Harriet said slowly, keeping eye contact with him. ‘I told you about it last week.’
Brian’s eyebrows furrowed deeper as he came back to the table and sat down again. She could sense his confusion but she also wanted to remind him that none of this mattered.
‘No, my love,’ he said as he held out his hands to her, palms upturned on the table. ‘No, you definitely didn’t.’ Harriet lowered her hands into his as his fingers curled around them. ‘But it’s not relevant right now, is it? Finding Alice is paramount.’ He turned back to Angela. ‘I want to be out there looking for my daughter,’ he said. ‘I feel useless sitting here.’
‘I understand your need to be out there, but honestly this is the best place you can be right now. So, Harriet,’ she said, ‘tell me about Charlotte. Do you leave Alice with her often?’
‘No,’ Harriet said. ‘I’ve never done
it before.’ Her hands felt hot and sticky as she pulled them away from Brian’s and ran them down the front of her skirt.
‘So who would you usually leave her with?’
‘I’ve never left Alice with anyone.’
‘Never? And your daughter’s four?’ Angela looked surprised. It was a reaction Harriet was used to.
‘Harriet doesn’t have any need to leave Alice with anyone,’ Brian interjected. ‘She’s a full-time mother.’
Angela gave Brian an inquisitive look but she didn’t respond. Harriet presumed that if Angela had children herself then she probably left them a lot, especially with such a demanding job.
‘But today you needed someone to look after her?’ Angela asked. ‘Was Charlotte your first choice?’
‘Yes,’ Harriet said. She didn’t add that her friend was her only choice.
‘So is Alice happy with Charlotte? Does she know her well?’
‘She’s known her since she was born,’ Harriet said. ‘I met Charlotte before I was pregnant.’
‘And, Brian,’ Angela turned to face him. ‘You were fishing today? Where do you go?’
‘Chesil Beach,’ he said. ‘But why do you need to know this? Surely I’m not under any suspicion?’
‘No, you’re not. It’s just crucial we build up a complete picture of everyone close to Alice. But Chesil Beach is a lovely spot,’ Angela said. ‘My dad always went there. He said there was nothing better than sitting alone on the beach with a bottle of beer and a fishing rod. Do you go alone?’
‘Yes. And I don’t drink.’
‘My father used to go out on a boat too. There’s a lovely spot just past—’
‘I never go on boats. I don’t leave the beach. But if you need the name of someone to verify I was there you can ask Ken Harris,’ Brian said. ‘He was out on his boat today. He would have seen me.’
Her husband had never mentioned anyone he fished with before. She’d always presumed he kept himself to himself.
‘Thank you, Brian,’ Angela smiled. ‘And I’d like some details about your course too if that’s OK, Harriet?’