Safe at Home

by Lauren North

  I open my mouth to reply and realize as I stare into Sue’s eyes that they are not the eyes of a woman who knows where her husband is. They are the eyes of worry and fear. The expression is one I recognize. ‘So it’s not true?’

  She shifts Timmy to her other arm and pulls out a ragged tissue from her sleeve. ‘Of course it isn’t.’ Timmy wriggles again and she sighs. ‘You might as well come in.’

  I slip out of my trainers on the doormat, aware of how rain-soaked I must look, and follow Sue through an old-fashioned kitchen with a huge Aga that takes up an entire wall. Timmy skitters around my feet, jumping at my hand as I bend down to stroke him.

  The house is smaller than I expected from the grand pink walls and huge black beams that stretch across the outside. It’s long but narrow, the rooms poky. Sue leads me into a fussy living room with floral sofas positioned around a fireplace. There’s a large framed photo on the wall of a younger Dean and Sue on their wedding day, and tiny dog ornaments on the mantelpiece.

  Sue points at one of the sofas and I sit. ‘Do you … can I make you a cup of tea?’ I ask, feeling stupid because this is her house not mine, and yet Sue looks like a woman who needs a strong cup of tea and a hug.

  She shakes her head and sits on the opposite chair. Timmy bounds on to her lap and curls into a ball, tail wagging softly as she pats his head.

  ‘Dean would never go to Scotland. He hates the weather up there this time of year,’ Sue says, reinforcing what I’d already suspected.

  ‘Do you have any idea where he is?’

  She shakes her head, freeing a stream of tears. ‘You said it yourself, something was bothering Dean. He’s been secretive with me in the last few months. But it’s more than that. Dean has always struggled with dark moods now and again. Bouts of depression, I suppose, although he never went to the doctor. He’d get them two or three times a year for a few weeks. They’d lift on their own eventually, but this time it kept on and on. He was worried about something happening to him and kept talking about what I should do if he wasn’t here any more. It was stupid stuff like where he keeps the deeds for the land and the wills. I thought he was just in a bad place but now I wonder if … I wonder if he was so depressed he thought about killing himself, and he called Luke that night because he felt like he might do it and when Luke didn’t turn up …’

  Sue reaches to a glass coffee table and plucks a fresh tissue from a box, dabbing at her eyes. When she looks at me again I see raw pain etched across her face. ‘I should’ve done more to help him, but I thought it would pass like all the rest. I kept telling myself that if I could get him away from this place and to Spain then he’d be happier. He’s a different person when he’s out there, like the weight of all this is left behind.’

  ‘Why haven’t you moved before?’

  ‘Dean kept saying it wasn’t the right time. He would come home from the office stressed and drained. He suddenly stopped talking about work, but I got the impression from a few things he said that Anthony was pressuring him to sell more of the business. Whatever was going on it made Dean secretive and unhappy.’

  ‘Unhappy enough to kill himself?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she shrugs. ‘His car hasn’t turned up. Did you know that?’ Sue asks. ‘The police checked local traffic cameras and they’ve got Dean driving home from work in the direction of the village and that’s it. Nothing more.’

  We fall silent for a moment and I can feel my time here winding up. Any minute now Sue will stand and show me to the door and I’ll be no closer to understanding what happened that night.

  ‘Sue,’ I ask. ‘Why did you tell me to be careful the other day? What do I need to be careful about?’

  ‘Not what, but who,’ Sue says.

  Frustration rears up inside me. I feel myself being dragged into a cryptic conversation I don’t understand.

  ‘Sue, please, tell me what you know. Something happened to my daughter the same night Dean went missing. She was home alone, but she may have left the house and whatever happened, I think it’s connected to Dean somehow. She’s eleven years old and I’m trying to help her. Please.’

  Sue swallows, her gaze moving from me to the tissue in her hand. She’s tearing it into tiny pieces – a pile of white on her lap.

  ‘Sue—’

  ‘We couldn’t have children,’ she says, cuddling Timmy closer. ‘We tried many times, but it just wouldn’t happen. We thought about adopting, obviously,’ she says, reading my mind. ‘But the last time I was pregnant we made it to twenty-eight weeks before Elizabeth was born. She lived for two hours, but her body wasn’t developed enough to survive and so we lost her. It destroyed us in a way I can’t begin to explain and I think neither of us wanted to get hurt like that again.’

  My hand moves involuntarily towards my stomach as I think of my beautiful children and how lucky I am to have them. My desperation to help Harrie feels suddenly sharp, heightened. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘The reason I’m telling you this is so you understand the next bit. Life goes on, sometimes cruelly so, and we began to socialize again. We saw our group of friends in the village. People I’m sure you know well. It took some years but the grief changed me. I no longer felt as though I fitted in. I became more of an observer and that’s when I realized there was a sort of subset of people within the friendship group – a group within the group – who stayed later than everyone else at the parties.

  ‘I’m not much of a night person so I was often one of the first to leave. And Dean was one of the last. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home until three or four in the morning. As time went on I began to think there was something else going on. I withdrew from the village crowd, but I knew without children to cement our marriage that I had to – or perhaps I chose to – turn a blind eye to whatever Dean was doing, or risk him leaving me.’

  ‘What do you mean a subgroup? Who are you talking about?’

  She shrugs. ‘Your friend Kat for one. Bev and Mike Pritchett. There are others, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘What kind of things do you think—’

  ‘Sex.’ Sue hisses the word like a naughty whisper. ‘Or drugs, although I’ve never seen Dean anything other than a bit tipsy. Whatever it was, something changed in the last few months. Dean went from seeing his friends every week to not seeing them at all. Like I said, I thought he was having a spell of depression.’

  ‘And you think whatever was happening has something to do with Dean going missing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she cries. ‘I don’t have the answers, Anna. I wish I did. All I know is that he left the office last Wednesday and was seen driving towards the village. He told me he had a stop to make, but never made it home. He texted Luke and said he was in some kind of trouble. I keep turning it over in my mind. But if he killed himself, if he jumped in the river or however he did it, where is his car?’

  Sue’s voice chokes, her body trembles and I move to sit beside her, rubbing her back as she cries.

  ‘Will you call me if you find out anything about Dean?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened that night.’ We stand and for a moment neither of us knows whether to hug.

  Sue shows me out and it’s as I’m leaving the garden that she rushes after me. ‘I’ve just remembered something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There was a man here a couple of months ago. I was upstairs cleaning, but the windows were open and I heard Dean arguing with someone on the driveway. I looked out and saw this man shouting at Dean, and then out of nowhere the man punches Dean in the face.’

  ‘Was it someone you knew?’ I think of Anthony. Always in control. Was he angry that Dean wouldn’t sell more of the business to him?

  Sue shakes her head. ‘I don’t think so. He was average-looking but I didn’t think I’d seen him before. I wanted to call the police but Dean said not to. He told me it was a carpenter who used to work with Stockton’s and was angry at Dean for letting him go. The man said something,
some phrase that I thought was odd. Oh, what was it?’ A pained expression crosses her face before she shakes her head again. ‘I can’t remember. At the time, I accepted Dean’s explanation, but now I think about it, his dark mood started straight after that.’

  On my walk home I turn over in my mind what Sue told me about the parties. A group within a group. What is it? Sex? Drugs? Something else?

  Anthony and Tracy.

  Kat and Steve.

  Gina and Martin.

  Bev and Mike.

  Jack and Sandra.

  Anna and Rob.

  I add our names in my head and cast my mind back to the few occasions I’ve socialized with these people, but I can’t remember anything out of the ordinary. I only went when Rob was home, and only to the odd child-friendly BBQ at Tracy’s house.

  What-ifs float around my thoughts like lost helium balloons, but I still can’t see how Harrie fits into this.

  What am I missing?

  CHAPTER 47

  The night of the crash, 8.31–9.10 p.m.

  Harrie

  The desire to run throbs through Harrie’s body but there’s nowhere to go. No escape. Why hasn’t Kat called the police? The answer sends a sickening wave of fear crashing into her thoughts. Kat is helping the man, not Harrie.

  ‘It’s all right. You’re all right.’ Kat’s voice is far away, floating above Harrie’s head. Harrie wants to push Kat away, to shout at her to help, but her body isn’t listening to her head any more.

  There’s blood on Harrie’s hands and her clothes. It’s drying cold and sticky. She can’t stop looking at it. She can’t breathe properly.

  ‘Calm down.’ Kat’s arms wrap around Harrie. ‘Breathe slowly, in through the nose and out through the mouth. In, two, three. Out, two, three.’

  Harrie does as she’s told, counting in her head, and she blinks, her focus returning to the room.

  Kat fetches something from the sink and returns with a dishcloth. She takes one of Harrie’s hands in hers and wipes away the blood as though Harrie is a little toddler with ice cream all over her. Kat’s touch is gentle, mothering. Tears roll down Harrie’s cheeks. Her nose runs too, teeth chattering.

  ‘I want to go home now,’ Harrie says in a voice that sounds more like Molly’s than her own.

  ‘You will,’ Kat says, giving Harrie’s hand a squeeze. ‘We just need to sort this out. I’d better call your mum. She’ll be worried.’

  Kat pulls a phone from the pocket of the grey cardigan she always wears and frowns. ‘Anna’s texted,’ she says, looking to the man. ‘There’s been an accident on the road. She’s stuck in traffic. It’s going to be a few hours by the looks of it. She’s asked me to go round and check on Harrie. What should I reply?’

  The man looks at something on his own phone – checking the time, Harrie thinks, because a second later he nods. ‘Don’t say anything. Pretend you didn’t see the message. Let’s sort this mess out, shall we?’ he says before turning to Harrie. ‘Why are you here?’

  Harrie takes a gulp of the water Kat has placed on the table beside her. The cold liquid slides too fast down her throat and she chokes.

  The man laughs. ‘What have you given her? Vodka?’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Kat hisses back. ‘Can’t you see she’s terrified?’

  Harrie flinches, waiting for the man to retaliate. Kat has called him an idiot. He’ll be mad. He’ll hit them both, but instead he laughs again. Harrie forces her eyes up from the blood on her knees to Kat’s face. She thought Kat was scared, she thought they were both trapped here, but now she isn’t so sure. Kat doesn’t seem scared any more, she seems angry.

  ‘Harrie,’ Kat prompts, her eyes searching Harrie’s face in a way that makes her feel exposed. ‘Why did you come here tonight?’

  ‘I wanted …’ Harrie touches the hard plastic of the phone still hidden in her pocket. ‘I wanted to ask Ben a question about the homework.’ Harrie picks up the glass and takes another sip, this time slower, hoping Kat won’t ask what homework.

  ‘Ben’s not here. He’s gone to watch West Ham play with Steve. And this homework question, it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’

  ‘I didn’t know Ben wasn’t here. I thought it would be fun to come at night while Mum was out,’ Harrie lies. Nothing about this has been fun, but at least she’s got Ben’s phone. It doesn’t seem important any more, but she knows it still is.

  Harrie thinks about Elise and how badly she wishes her sister was here. How will she tell Elise about the mess she’s in? About the man bleeding on the floor and the other one, standing over her.

  That stupid video. She hates Ben. This is all his fault.

  CHAPTER 48

  Anna

  I watch Harrie scoop up a football from the floor of her bedroom, hugging it like a teddy. Molly is downstairs in front of the TV. Elise is at the kitchen table doing homework and Harrie is here, not talking.

  I sit beside her, trying so hard to be patient, to be two parents in one – good cop, bad cop – supportive but firm. I push at a discarded T-shirt with my foot and feel like I’m failing at both.

  ‘I don’t care about the fence or the toilet roll. I’m on your side. I just want you to tell me what happened.’

  ‘It wasn’t me. Why don’t you believe me?’

  ‘I do believe you.’ My words lack conviction and Harrie knows it. ‘But let’s not pretend that something hasn’t been going on with you since that night I left you. You can deny it all you want, you can lie to my face, but I know something happened that night. So I think you can understand why I have to ask about the vandalism.’

  ‘I’m telling the truth. It wasn’t me.’

  There’s a noise from outside the door.

  Harrie leaps up, slamming her hand on the wood. ‘Go away, Elise. This is nothing to do with you.’ I jump at the sharpness to Harrie’s tone. It’s Elise who snaps at Molly, not Harrie at Elise. They’ve never spoken to each other like that before.

  ‘Harrie?’ I cry out.

  ‘What?’ She spins back to me. ‘She was eavesdropping.’ Tears roll down Harrie’s cheeks. Her face is blotchy red. She kicks the football in the air with her foot. Tap, tap, tap.

  ‘Do you know who did cause the damage at the school?’

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  ‘Harrie? Answer me, or there is no trick-or-treating for you tomorrow.’

  Harrie sighs, letting the ball drop and roll across the carpet. ‘It was Ben, OK? Ben did it. But everyone is blaming me for everything. It’s not my fault.’ Harrie throws herself face down on to the bed.

  ‘I believe you,’ I tell her, meaning it this time.

  I find Elise slumped on the stairs, tears streaming down her face. ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘It’s OK. Harrie didn’t mean to shout.’

  ‘I know,’ Elise sniffs. ‘Can you help with my maths now?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Mummy.’ Molly appears at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Since we’re not going to gymnastics tonight, can we play hide and seek?’

  I nod. ‘But I just need to help Elise first, OK baby? Can we play in twenty minutes?’

  ‘I’ll play with you,’ Harrie says from her bedroom doorway. Harrie looks at Elise and something passes between them – a silent apology, I think.

  ‘Yaaay! I’ll hide first,’ Molly shouts.

  ‘Let’s play in the garden,’ Harrie says.

  We troop downstairs. Me to the table with Elise, and Harrie and Molly to play in the garden.

  ‘Just until it gets dark,’ I say as they rush outside into the dusky late afternoon.

  ‘Mum?’ Elise says. ‘Is Harrie OK?’

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart.’

  I explain dividing fractions to Elise and as she bends her head over her books I replay Harrie’s words over and over in my mind.

  It was Ben.

  So why does the whole village think it was Harrie? I’ll speak to the school and Jack Briggs and find out what they know.

  ‘Mummy.’ M
olly’s voice drags me back to the kitchen. ‘I can’t find Harrie,’ she says from the back door.

  I’m about to stand and help Molly when Elise pushes her book towards me. ‘Mum, I don’t think this one is right. Was I supposed to make the bottom numbers the same? It’s so hard. I’m never going to do well enough for the scholarship, am I?’ Fresh tears brim in Elise’s eyes and I take her hand and squeeze it in mine.

  ‘You can do this,’ I tell Elise. ‘You’ve been working so hard.’

  ‘Mummy?’ Molly calls again.

  ‘Keep looking, Molly,’ I call out. ‘It’ll be cheating if I help you. Try the shed.’

  Molly spins around and races down the garden and I try to help Elise with the maths I barely understand myself.

  CHAPTER 49

  Harrie

  Harrie sobs as she stares at the cage. Why isn’t he moving?

  ‘Dean?’ She sniffs and the putrid smell makes her gag. ‘Wake up.’

  There’s something wrong with the way Dean is sitting, Harrie thinks. He’s upright against the back of the cage like he always is, but the top half of his body is slumped to one side and his head is drooping so far down to his chest it’s like it’s not even connected to his neck any more.

  ‘Dean?’ Her voice trembles. Her mouth is dry and she wants to run away and never come back to this place, but her feet are rooted to the spot.

  The only reply is the slow lazy hum of a fly hovering nearby.

  She wished he was dead but she didn’t mean it.

  It’s all her fault.

  She should never have taken the phone. The wrong phone, it turns out.

  It was supposed to be Ben’s. It looked exactly the same as Ben’s one. Black cover. White face. But when Ben came into school that Thursday he still had his phone. He still had the video. And the stupid thing – the unbelievable thing – is that when he told them again that he was going to share it and Harrie said, ‘Go on then,’ instead of pressing send, Ben shrugged and told them he’d only been messing around.

  Everything she’d done was for nothing. And now a man is dead and she could’ve saved him. Tears blur her eyes and she turns away, walking on legs that don’t feel like her own.