Safe at Home

by Lauren North

The three bubbles roll across the bottom of the screen. Above my head Molly, Elise and Harrie squabble for their turn in the bathroom.

  Kat: Our Parish Council clerk has just resigned and we need a new one. Before you say no, it’s paid not voluntary! 5 hours a week. Good hourly rate!!! We’re desperate. PLEASE xx

  My heart sinks. I need to use my time to build my business and be both parents to the girls while Rob is away.

  But how can I say no? Kat is giving me a dishwasher for free. And now she’s offering me paid work.

  Me: What do I need to do?

  Kat: Not much! Attend the meetings and take the minutes. Keep the records in order. Answer email enquiries and send them on to the relevant member of the council. It’s boring stuff. Overgrowing hedges and cars parked in the wrong places, but we need your organization skills. Honestly, it’s a breeze and most weeks it probably won’t even take an hour and it’ll be money for nothing!

  Me: OK. Count me in xx

  Money for nothing. If only there was such a thing. But the idea of extra income is impossible to turn down. Already, I’m lying awake at night worrying about the cost of another Christmas. We save a little every month for the presents and we try to get everything on the lists the girls make, but it’s getting harder with the twins. Molly is still at that age of wanting the plastic crap – a new Barbie, a Lego set – but Elise is desperate for technology, and all Harrie wants is a dog. It’s all she talks about some days. Which breed would be best, how she’ll walk it every day, twice a day. ‘It doesn’t have to be a puppy,’ she said last week. ‘We could get a rescue dog. That wouldn’t be expensive, would it?’

  I said I’d think about it but I already know the answer. Insurance. Dog food. Vet bills. I can’t do it. I can’t add another burden to this family.

  Footsteps thud – a herd of elephants – on the stairs and Elise and Molly rush into the kitchen, laughing and jostling playfully with each other for who gets to sit where.

  ‘Where’s Harrie?’

  The smile drops from Elise’s face. ‘She’s coming.’ Her tone is defiant. Protective. It’s a reminder that however much I want to drag the truth out of Harrie, now is not the time.

  Harrie slides into a chair as I place the plates on the table. She’s tense, her face set in a scowl.

  Only when I jolly the conversation along over dinner, talking about gymnastics and school and our plans for the weekend, do Harrie and Elise relax a little.

  Molly delights in Harrie’s silence. Her voice is usually the first to be drowned out, ignored by her sisters, but she takes centre stage over dinner telling us all about the new girl in her class and why Molly thinks she’s going to be best friends with Alice. ‘They both like horses and they both have red hair,’ she explains.

  ‘Why do you keep looking at Harrie?’ Elise asks me when Molly is done with her story.

  ‘I’m not,’ I lie.

  ‘Yes you are.’

  ‘I’m worried about her. Are you OK, Harrie?’ I ask, trying to draw her into the conversation so she’s not listening to us talk about her like she’s not here.

  ‘Fine,’ she says, the one word bitten off and short. ‘Can I get down now please?’

  My gaze falls to her plate. She’s barely touched her food. One piece of chicken and one mouthful of mash. No peas.

  ‘Not hungry?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘There’s nothing else. No cereal or toast.’

  ‘I KNOW,’ she shouts, the words so loud Molly squeaks. ‘You always say that. We’re not babies, Mum. We get it.’

  I stare open-mouthed at Harrie. I know I should tell her off, but I still can’t wrap my head around who this child in front of me is. Harrie’s face is tilted up, she’s waiting for my response, but her eyes swim with tears that break my heart.

  It’s the doorbell that shatters the silence. My eyes are still on Harrie and so I see her freeze. I see her body tense, her eyes grow wide, and a terror draw across her features. She leaps up so suddenly that her arm knocks the place mat, and I watch helplessly as her plate flips to the floor in a clatter of broken china.

  CHAPTER 16

  Anna

  The air in the kitchen electrifies as Harrie’s fear zips around us. Elise jumps up too, chair scraping against the floor, sensing her sister’s terror. Molly is silent, staring between me and Harrie. It’s only a beat, a second when we all stand there, gravy seeping into the grout between the tiles.

  Harrie moves. Two quick strides to the back door, a shaking hand already on the handle when I find my voice.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I say. ‘It’s just Steve with a new dishwasher.’

  ‘Why is he bringing a dishwasher?’ Molly asks.

  ‘Our one has broken and they had a spare,’ I reply, my focus still on Harrie. ‘Who did you think was at the door?’ I ask her. Who are you so scared of?

  Silence.

  The doorbell rings a second time. Elise steps to her sister and pushes her towards the stairs.

  ‘Can I watch TV please, Mummy?’ Molly asks.

  ‘You know the rules,’ I tell her, dropping a kiss on to the top of her head. ‘No more technology. You’ve got half an hour until it’s time to get ready for bed. Go and play.’

  ‘All right, Anna,’ Steve says with a friendly smile as I open the front door.

  ‘Steve, hi. Thank you for doing this.’

  Steve wheels the dishwasher into the kitchen on a trolley, bumping it carefully over the lip of the door frame.

  ‘As if I had a choice,’ he says, but he’s smiling his crooked smile, letting me know he doesn’t mind.

  Steve Morris is every bit as handsome as Kat is beautiful. He isn’t broad like Rob, but his face is boyish despite being in his forties. He has a Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones look about him, but maybe that’s just the sandy colour of his hair. Steve is also the most easy-going person I’ve ever met. A go-with-the-flow type who’ll leap out of bed in the middle of the night to fix a leak and who never seems to complain when Kat announces there’s no dinner that night because she’s been drinking wine in the garden with me and can’t be arsed. Steve does as he’s told, and they both seem content with the balance in their relationship.

  ‘What happened to the old dishwasher?’ he asks, opening the door and peering into the empty racks

  ‘It’s been temperamental for a while now. But yesterday it gave up altogether.’

  ‘Do you know how old it is?’

  ‘Five years old. We got it when we moved in.’

  ‘You’ve done well then. They pretty much have a three-year lifespan now. Same as washing machines. Cost as much to fix as they do to replace most of the time, but it shouldn’t take long to swap these around.’

  I do a quick calculation in my head and feel queasy at the realization that our washing machine is three and a half years old.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re all right thanks, Anna. Been drinking the stuff all day. I swear I piss tea most evenings. I should be out of your hair in five minutes.’

  Steve sets to work and I clean away the dinner plates, the mess, feeling the drag of another job that I have no one to share with. If Steve notices the broken plate, the spilt dinner, he doesn’t comment.

  ‘Did you hear about Dean?’ I say, my tone casual. Just gossip. Nothing more here.

  ‘Yep, Kat just told me. I’m sure he’ll turn up, though. It’s not the first time he’s done a runner.’

  ‘Oh really? Do you know him well?’

  Steve laughs. ‘Everyone knows Dean well. He’s the Alan Sugar of the village. Got his fingers in all the pies, so to speak.’ Steve chuckles, easy and relaxed, and I wonder if we’re talking about the same person.

  Fingers in all the pies.

  I know about Stockton’s Builders and Contractors of course, but Dean never speaks about the business. We talk about the films we like and music and … and me, I realize. We talk a lot about me and the girls and Rob sometime
s too. My life. My troubles.

  As I cut the last of the chicken for tomorrow’s dinner, I think about how little I really know about Dean. The thought is unnerving.

  ‘All done,’ Steve announces a minute later, clambering to his feet. ‘Any problems, give me a shout.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

  ‘It’s what friends are for.’ He smiles and pushes the old dishwasher on to the trolley. ‘Did Kat tell you her news, by the way?’

  I frown, thinking back to my conversation with Kat this morning. Did she tell me anything new? ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘She’s been promoted to a sales manager.’

  ‘Oh wow, that’s great.’ I make a mental note to dig out a congratulations card for her. ‘She’s really good at selling those beauty products.’

  ‘She really is.’ Steve rubs his hands over his dirty overalls. ‘You know, when she first told me about it, I thought it was a scam. One of those pyramid-scheme things, but we’ve taken Ben on two amazing holidays this year thanks to her earnings. If you’re short of a few bob, you could sell the stuff too. I’m sure Kat could help you get started.’

  I tell him I’ll think about it as I walk him to the door, hiding the sharp smart of humiliation. Short of a few bob? That’s an understatement, but I’ve not got Kat’s selling sparkle, her ease. I’m too desperate.

  When the kitchen is clean again and the new dishwasher is humming in the silence, I head upstairs, my heart in my throat, preparing myself to talk to Harrie again. This can’t go on.

  CHAPTER 17

  Friday, eight days until Halloween

  Harrie

  ‘This isn’t going to—’ Elise starts to say, staring at her reflection in their bedroom mirror and pinching the silky material of Harrie’s football shirt.

  ‘It will,’ Harrie cuts in. ‘It has to.’

  Their school clothes are piled on the floor by their feet beside a scattering of other clothes and two of Harrie’s footballs. Their beds are on either side of the room. Elise by the wall, Harrie by the window. They have their separate sides, their separate drawers and bedside tables, half a wardrobe each, but still their things seem to drift towards each other – like magnets – the same way they do. One of Elise’s gymnastics trophies is nestled next to a football medal of Harrie’s. Man of the Match is inscribed on the front. Their mum said it should say woman, but Harrie doesn’t care.

  ‘Can you at least tell me why we’re doing this?’ Elise asks. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I told you.’ Harrie steps beside her twin, catching sight of the pink jumper she’s wearing and frowning at the sight of it. How does Elise wear this colour? Harrie feels like a tub of candyfloss. ‘I have to leave the house. I won’t be long. Ten minutes max. You’re the only one allowed out on your own and only to go across the road to see Mr Pritchett. So I have to be you.’

  ‘But Mr Pritchett gave me my work for the weekend at school today. What if Mum asks him about it?’

  ‘She won’t,’ Harrie replies with more conviction than she feels. She stuffs her hands in her pockets so Elise can’t see them shaking.

  ‘But why do you need to go out? Where are you going?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’ Harrie shakes her head, wishing she could. They don’t keep secrets from each other, but this is so much bigger than them. So much bigger.

  Elise sighs, flopping on to her bed so hard it wobbles. Her leg brushes against the cluttered bedside table, knocking a snow globe to the floor with a small thud. There are dozens of them around the room. Big and small, all filled with different scenes – Christmas trees, and the Eiffel Tower, a car, a house, a tabby cat. Elise used to have more, but she gave the babyish ones to Molly last year.

  Elise lies flat, then pushes her body up into a perfect bridge. ‘You know we’re leaving for gymnastics in like an hour, right? You can’t be me for that.’

  ‘I know. Don’t do that,’ Harrie hisses. Their bedroom door is closed, their mum downstairs making dinner, but if she walks in right now, everything will be ruined and Harrie will be stuck here and that can’t happen. Ten minutes, that’s all she needs, just to see, just to check.

  The thought makes her heart race and her breath catch as though she’s running.

  Elise drops the bridge and hops across the floor to Harrie’s bed. ‘Better?’ she asks.

  Harrie nods.

  ‘It’s weird being on this side of the room,’ Elise says, pulling a face. ‘I wish you’d tell me why we’re doing this. Is it because of—’

  ‘No,’ Harrie shakes her head. Elise is talking about yesterday and the car. It has everything to do with that, but it’s better Elise doesn’t know.

  ‘He was an idiot,’ Elise says.

  ‘Yeah. He thought you were me because of—’

  ‘My coat. I get that, but why did he want to talk to you?’

  Harrie? She can still hear the growl of his voice, his anger in her head, and the way his eyes had narrowed as he’d looked between them. That strong hand reaching for Elise – even now the thought of it makes Harrie’s heart pound with a fear that steals her breath.

  ‘Nothing,’ Harrie mumbles.

  ‘Something happened the other night.’ Elise crosses her arms and looks at Harrie, her face a mix of pleading and knowing. ‘I know it did. You totally freaked out when Tyler pushed you yesterday. You looked really scared.’

  ‘I can’t talk about it.’ She wants to. So badly. But the threat still has its nails dug deep inside her. She has to keep quiet.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Harrie asks.

  ‘It’s not going to work though. Mum has never ever been fooled by a swap and she isn’t going to buy this. You do realize that?’

  ‘She will. We just need—’

  ‘A distraction,’ Elise finishes.

  ‘Molly,’ they say at the same time.

  Harrie opens the bedroom door and shouts for their little sister. A second later her head pops out of her bedroom.

  ‘What is it?’ she asks.

  ‘Quick.’ Harrie beckons. ‘We need you in here. It’s top secret.’

  A wide smile spreads across Molly’s face and she scurries across the landing.

  Elise stands up. ‘We need your help.’

  Molly’s eyes narrow. Her gaze moves from Elise to Harrie and back again. ‘Why are you wearing Harrie’s football kit?’ she asks Elise.

  ‘I told you.’ Elise rolls her eyes. ‘This isn’t going to work.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ Molly asks.

  ‘We’re playing a joke on Mum,’ Harrie says. Desperation grips tight. Elise is right. They can’t even fool Molly. How are they going to trick their mum?

  Molly giggles and claps her hands. ‘Goody. Can I help?’

  ‘Yes. You’re the star,’ Elise says, before telling Molly the plan.

  Five minutes later they gather on the stairs. ‘Ready?’ Harrie whispers to Molly.

  ‘Ready,’ Molly nods.

  ‘Go on then.’ Elise gives Molly a gentle push and she moves, jumping the final step and rushing into the kitchen, a teddy bear squished in her arms.

  ‘Mummy,’ Molly wails. ‘Arthur Le Blanc has a hole in his side. Can you sew him up?’

  ‘Sure,’ their mum says. ‘I’ll do it tonight when we’re back from taking Elise to gymnastics.’

  ‘Can you do it now? I think he’s in pain.’ Molly begins to cry. Perfect pitiful tears.

  Elise looks at Harrie and they share a smile. It’s now or never.

  ‘Mum,’ Elise calls out from the stairs. ‘Mr Pritchett said I could pop over and collect some extra homework tonight. Can I go now?’

  ‘Now?’ comes their mum’s reply, her voice almost lost behind Molly’s tears. ‘All right, Molly,’ she soothes. ‘We’ll sew him up now. Elise, can it wait until tomorrow? Dinner is almost ready and we’re leaving for gymnastics after that.’

  ‘But he said tonight and it will be too late when I get back,’ Elise replies. ‘Please?’
/>   ‘Fine, but don’t be long and look both ways before you cross the road.’

  ‘I will,’ Elise shouts.

  ‘Where’s Harrie?’

  ‘Upstairs reading,’ Elise replies, nudging Harrie to go.

  Harrie moves, keeping her head down as she passes her mum. She holds her breath, expecting her name to be called, but Molly is still sniffling and their mum is digging in the drawer for the sewing kit. She glances up for a second just as Harrie reaches the front door and pulls on Elise’s coat.

  ‘Don’t be long, Elise,’ her mum says.

  Harrie nods, not daring to speak. She shoots out the front door and into the early evening, feet hitting the pavement. The cold wind burns her lungs and whips her hair as the dark closes in around her.

  The fear is almost choking as she draws near, like thick smoke she can’t breathe through. Every part of her body wants her to turn around, to run away, but she can’t, just like she couldn’t two nights ago.

  Interview with Gina Walker, Chair of Barton St Martin Primary School Parent–Teacher Association

  Interview conducted by Melissa Hart, The Daily Gazette, 2 November

  Gina: None of it makes sense. I just wish I knew what happened. My daughter, Clarissa, is absolutely distraught. You just don’t expect things like this to happen here. These were people we saw almost every day. Thank God it’s half-term or she’d be missing school. I was going to speak to Mike Pritchett, the head teacher, about having a special parent-and-child assembly, but he’s retiring so I don’t know what will happen there.

  MH: Where is Clarissa now? Do you think she’d mind having a quick word with me?

  Gina: Oh no. I’m sorry but I don’t want to upset her any more. She’s at a friend’s house right now.

  MH: Could you give me a bit of background? You were in the same friendship group as Anna James. Is that correct?

  Gina: Yes, I suppose so. The twins and Clarissa played together, but that stopped when Harrie went off the rails. You know she was violent, don’t you? She got in trouble for hurting other kids. As for Anna, we weren’t that close. She kept to herself. It’s Kat or Tracy you should speak to. They were closer to Anna than I was, although I got the impression there might have been a falling out last week.