Now You See Her Page 10

  ‘Yet you must have talked to each other about your home lives?’ the detective asks. ‘Isn’t that what friends do?’

  I bite my lip as I think about what I should say. Exhaustion hasn’t just crept up on me, it’s surging towards me like a tsunami, and I worry that soon I will say whatever I need to in order to finish this interview.

  Rawlings’s eyes look red; she must be tired too. Possibly she’d agree to me leaving. Or maybe she knows more than she’s letting on and as soon as I show signs of failing to comply she’ll arrest me and leave me no choice. In the end I decide it’s not worth the risk.

  ‘Of course. We talked about plenty of things,’ I say.

  ‘Like what?’ Her words sound aggressive even if that’s not her intention.

  ‘Well, I talked about my marriage a lot. Even though Tom and I separated two years ago things hadn’t been good for a while.’

  I am sure she isn’t interested in the state of my marriage but my flagging mind is drifting in and out of memories. When I see Harriet and me sitting on our usual bench in the park, the discussion that keeps invading my thoughts is the time I told her Tom and I were splitting up.

  ‘Are you sure it’s what you want?’ Harriet had said. ‘You can’t try counselling or anything?’

  ‘We have,’ I told her. ‘Well, once anyway. But I found out there’s someone else. It’s not an affair,’ I added. ‘At least not yet, but he’s got close to someone, sending her messages; you know, ones that are inappropriate if you’re married.’

  I told Harriet that I’d asked Tom outright about the texts, my heart in my mouth, my body hot, desperate for him to tell me they were nothing. But Tom has always been too honest and the flush that engulfed his face forced him to stammer an apologetic explanation that, while nothing had happened, he had been flirting with someone else.

  ‘How come you look so sad?’ I joked to Harriet when the mood had darkened.

  ‘I always thought Tom was a good man,’ she replied.

  ‘He is in many ways. Just not one I can be married to any more,’ I smiled.

  Harriet reached over and took hold of my hand. ‘The children will be fine,’ she said. ‘They have two wonderful parents who love them and that makes them incredibly lucky. Besides, it’s better to come from a broken home than live in one,’ she said. ‘Someone once told me that.’

  I was conscious of the tears running down my face but I let them fall. Just to have her total support was all the strength I needed.

  ‘Not many people have what you and Brian have,’ I told Harriet. It was the first time I realised there were benefits to her type of marriage.

  DI Rawlings is asking me if Harriet talked about her own marriage and I tell her she didn’t.

  Rawlings stares at me, waiting for me to continue. When I don’t she suddenly says, ‘So tell me about the times you met up with Brian on your own?’

  I look up, sitting a little straighter. I hadn’t been expecting her to ask that. I hadn’t expected her to know. ‘It was just the once,’ I say eventually. ‘Or twice,’ I add when she continues to watch me carefully. ‘It was only two times.’

  ‘And what did he come to talk to you about?’

  I take a deep breath and release it slowly. I don’t know which time I should discuss. It’s probably better to focus on the second. ‘Brian came to my house two days ago,’ I say. ‘I told Angela Baker,’ I add defensively. ‘She’s the liaison officer on the case …’ I drift off because of course she already knows this. She probably knows about every conversation I’ve had with Angela and DCI Hayes over the last two weeks.

  ‘Tell us about the other time,’ Rawlings says. ‘When was that?’

  My fingers reach out for my empty glass, twitching as I grab hold of it. My mouth is dry, I need to ask her for more water but surely she’ll know I’m playing for time, most likely think I’ve got something to hide. ‘Six months ago,’ I tell her.

  ‘And why did you meet up?’

  ‘Brian came to see me because he said he was worried.’

  ‘About what?’ The detective leans forward and nods at me to continue.

  ‘He said he was worried about Harriet.’ I shrug. ‘It was nothing much.’ I rub the heel of my hand against my right eye and glance up at the clock again. ‘Do you know how much longer you need me here?’ I ask. My voice is hoarse.

  ‘It would be helpful if we could carry on,’ she says, cocking her head to one side. The room falls into an apprehensive silence.

  Eventually I nod. ‘Brian said he was worried that Harriet was getting things wrong and forgetting things.’

  ‘Forgetting things?’

  ‘Yes, like where she had been. It didn’t seem to be anything major.’ I give a thin smile but she doesn’t smile back.

  ‘So tell me what Brian said specifically.’

  I chew the inside of my mouth until I bite too hard and can feel the metallic taste of blood.

  ‘Specifically?’ I release another deep breath that comes out as a sigh. ‘He told me Harriet was suffering from postnatal depression. I thought it was ludicrous because, if all he was worried about was the fact Harriet was forgetting things he’d told her, he only had to speak to Tom. He would tell Brian I forget most things he says because I’m not listening half the time.’

  I picture Brian standing in my back garden, running his hand across the oak table on the decking as he looked around, and I couldn’t tell if he admired my garden or loathed it.

  ‘I’m very worried about my wife,’ he’d said. ‘What I’m particularly worried about is that she puts Alice in danger. Yesterday she walked off and left Alice in the car on her own. She forgot she was in there.’

  Brian stopped running his fingers along the wood and turned to look me in the eye and I instinctively took a step back.

  ‘Harriet was so preoccupied with getting to the post office to renew her passport before it closed that she completely forgot about her daughter. Charlotte, anything could have happened to her,’ he said. ‘My little girl could have been taken.’

  BEFORE

  Harriet

  ‘Can I help you with that?’ Angela pointed to the dishes on the draining board, taking a tea towel off the oven handle. ‘I always preferred drying up when I was forced to help in the kitchen as a child,’ she smiled.

  It was twenty-four hours since Alice had disappeared. Harriet had been trying to keep herself busy so she didn’t have to think about how their appeal for her daughter had gone. ‘I don’t mind washing up; I’ve always liked looking out on to the garden while I’m doing it. I think I’d live outdoors if I could.’

  ‘Really? Where would be your favourite place to live?’

  Harriet paused. She liked that Angela was taking an interest in her, even though she understood what the detective’s underlying reasons were. ‘By the sea,’ she said. ‘When I was little I dreamed of living in a house at the edge of a beach. It had an open porch at the front where I could sit and read and look at the water, and a wooden path that led through the dunes to the water’s edge.’

  ‘Wow.’ Angela stopped and rested the towel on the draining board. ‘That sounds wonderful.’

  Harriet shrugged. ‘I used to draw it in my mind. I have a picture of it that’s crystal clear, and if I close my eyes I can see every bit of it. The shimmering water, the ripples on the sand, the gaps between the boardwalk I can look through. I would picture myself sitting in a chair on the porch and looking out at the sea and imagining.’ Harriet smiled. ‘I can imagine anything when I look at the sea.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Angela said. ‘Though I love the forest too. So is that why you moved to Dorset, to live by the sea?’

  ‘Supposedly.’ Harriet quickly grabbed the scouring pad and begun scrubbing a pan. If she rubbed much harder, the enamel would start chipping, but she didn’t relent. Brian had wanted boiled milk and it had left a white layer of skin on the bottom. It was easier to use the microwave but it wasn’t a compromise Brian was prepared
to make. He preferred it heated in a pan.

  ‘So do you swim much?’ Angela asked.

  Harriet stopped scrubbing. She had momentarily lost her picture of the sea house and replaced it with the mundanity of Brian’s milk. She’d almost forgotten they’d been talking about it. ‘No,’ Harriet replied after a beat. ‘I can’t swim.’

  ‘Really?’

  She knew this would surprise Angela. Who would want to live on the beach if you were afraid to go in the water?

  ‘Tell me more about moving to Dorset then,’ Angela persisted, but Harriet didn’t know how to open up that can of worms. She wasn’t sure that this was even the right time; after all she’d only known Angela since yesterday.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ Harriet said instead, nodding at the mugs and plates that were slowly piling up on the draining board.

  Angela shook her head and flicked out the tea towel. ‘No, I want to help.’ She picked up one of the mugs and started to dry again. ‘Did you always live in Kent when you were a child?’

  ‘Yes. I was born there. It’s pretty – have you ever been?’

  ‘Yes, I have an aunt who lives in Westerham.’

  ‘I know it. It’s lovely.’

  ‘And it was just you and your mum, then? After your dad died?’

  Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, just me and Mum since I was five. It was all I ever knew.’

  ‘That must have been hard,’ Angela said. ‘Your dad dying when you were still so young.’

  ‘Yes.’ Harriet paused. ‘I do wish I’d had him in my life,’ she said. ‘Somehow I think I would have liked him a lot.’

  Angela smiled sadly. ‘And what about Brian’s mother?’ she asked. Harriet looked over as Angela casually put the tea towel down and started wiping a cloth across the draining board.

  ‘I only met her once,’ Harriet said. ‘Brian took me to her house a month after we met. He was so excited, he said he wanted to show me off, but his mother had no interest in me. When I left the room I overheard him telling her that I was the girl he was going to marry and she laughed, told him marriage was a waste of time and then said he had to leave because she needed to get ready to go out to bingo. I never saw her again and as far as I know Brian hasn’t either.’

  ‘That’s very sad.’

  Harriet shrugged. ‘My own mum was very different.’ She gazed out of the window at the garden. ‘We used to live in a flat that overlooked a park. We didn’t have a garden. Mum hated that park. She said it was an accident waiting to happen. We saw a child fall off the monkey bars once and he lay at this angle that wasn’t right at all.’ Harriet cocked her head to one side and stuck out her arm to show how distorted the boy had looked. ‘Mum raced down there, screaming for someone to call an ambulance, shouting, “Where the hell is this boy’s mother?” Thankfully he was OK but whenever we walked anywhere near the park after that Mum grabbed my hand and sped past it. I don’t think I ever went in it again.’ Harriet stopped and looked up at Angela. ‘She was a funny one, my mum. I was everything she had and I thought the world of her, but she didn’t let me do a lot of things. She was always yelling at me to get down from walls that were only three bricks high in case I fell.’ Harriet raised her eyebrows.

  ‘She was worried about you. It’s what mothers do.’

  ‘It was more than that. She’d take my temperature every night just in case I was coming down with a fever. She was always the first mum at the school gate and even when I went to the secondary comp she walked me to the bus stop because it was supposedly on her way to the shops. No one needs to go to the shops at eight-thirty every morning.’

  ‘Why did you let her then, Harriet?’

  ‘Because I knew what it would do to her if I didn’t. Like I said, I was all she had.’

  ‘That’s a lot to put on a child.’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, it meant I spent a lot more time in my bedroom than most kids and that’s where I created my stories. These little alternative lives were in my head, like the house by the sea. Sometimes I used to dream I lived there with my whole imaginary family. Mum, Dad, and all my brothers and sisters. Crazy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not at all. I had an imaginary sister. I’m one of four and the rest are boys. I was so desperate for a sister I made one up!’

  ‘I was one of five in my head. We all used to sit around this big wooden table at Christmas and laugh and make fun of each other. It was chaotic but I always had someone to talk to if things got bad. It was totally different from reality. Some of the kids at school used to say I was mad. I sometimes forgot I was in public when I was talking to my family.’ Harriet smiled sheepishly.

  ‘You shouldn’t underestimate imagination.’

  ‘I didn’t want Alice to be an only child,’ Harriet said, immediately wishing she could take it back. What did she expect Angela to say to that? Harriet turned back to the washing-up and started scrubbing at the pan again. She’d probably said far too much anyway. Why had she even mentioned her imaginary family? ‘What are you all thinking has happened to Alice?’ she asked.

  ‘I think the appeal will help us put together what happened,’ Angela said carefully. ‘It’s going to make people think about who they saw at the fete, and hopefully bring them forward.’

  ‘So you don’t know anything yet, then?’ Harriet asked. ‘DCI Hayes said you had some things you were looking into. Things he couldn’t divulge.’

  ‘We don’t have anything concrete,’ Angela told her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Harriet nodded and dropped the scouring pad and pan back into the sink. A patch of milk was clinging determinedly to the bottom of the pan but she could no longer be bothered.

  ‘Harriet, I’m going to have to check into the station in a bit, but I’ll come back again later. I’ll be around as much as possible, but if there’s anything else you need at all, you must speak to me. You know that, don’t you? That’s what I’m here for,’ Angela said, her gaze resting on Harriet expectantly.

  Harriet nodded. Angela had no idea how much she could talk about.

  ‘We’re doing everything we can to get Alice back soon,’ she said. ‘I promise you.’

  ‘Angela?’ Harriet looked up at the FLO’s face. ‘What that journalist said about Charlotte, you know, on Facebook when Alice disappeared. Is it true?’

  ‘I believe so, but you shouldn’t read too much into it. She may have been on it for mere seconds. Try not to think about that.’

  Harriet turned and stared out of the window. ‘I don’t know what else to think about,’ she said quietly.

  When Angela returned to the Hodders’ house later that day she had DCI Hayes in tow. They had news, they told Harriet and Brian. There had been a sighting at the fete. One of the mothers had seen an older man who looked suspicious, but she had apparently left the fete before she knew a little girl had disappeared. The grapevine hadn’t reached her before she’d watched the appeal that morning.

  ‘What do you mean, he looked suspicious?’ Brian demanded, moving in between Harriet and the detective as if he was sheltering his wife from bad news.

  ‘The woman says she didn’t recognise this man and that he was on his own, wandering about at the start of the fete.’ Hayes raised his eyebrows in a way that made Harriet think he didn’t hold out much hope for the sighting. ‘Anyway, she seemed to think there was something not quite right about the way he was walking around the field. We have an e-fit we’d like you both to look at.’ Hayes held out a piece of paper that Brian took out of his hands before Harriet got a chance to see it.

  Brian glanced at it briefly then handed it back to the detective, shaking his head. ‘I don’t recognise him,’ he said.

  ‘How about you, Harriet?’

  Her hands trembled as she reached out and took the paper. She didn’t want to look at it for fear of what she’d see. What if she recognised the face Brian had so resolutely rebuffed?

  ‘Look at it closely, Harriet,’ Brian urged her, and though he tried to sound calm she could sense hi
s impatience that she wasn’t.

  Eventually she dropped her eyes to the page. She shook her head.

  ‘Nothing at all?’ the detective asked, though it seemed like this was the answer he’d been expecting and the whole ‘sighting’ had been a complete waste of his time.

  Brian took it from Harriet and glanced at it again. ‘Maybe? There’s something oddly familiar about him, I suppose. How old did she say he was?’

  ‘Her guess was late sixties,’ Hayes told him. ‘How do you mean, oddly familiar? Can you be a little more specific?’

  ‘There’s just something about him that looks like I might have seen him. But—’ Brian shook his head. ‘I can’t place him.’

  ‘And Harriet,’ Hayes said, with the smallest hint of a sigh that he’d most likely not intended to let out. ‘Definitely not?’

  ‘Not at all. Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be sorry. It was a bit of a long shot. And I apologise for getting your hopes up too. Of course it doesn’t mean we won’t be looking into this more,’ he said, flapping the paper in the air.

  Harriet stood by the front door as Hayes left, feeling the welcome burst of air from outside as it touched her face. It would be so easy to follow him out of the house. Apart from the short drive to the hotel for the appeal that morning, she hadn’t been out and the walls were closing in on her even tighter than usual. She felt trapped, like she was in a coffin and someone was hammering in the final nail. Now she had the overwhelming feeling that if she didn’t run through the door that moment she might never be able to scratch her way out.

  ‘I’m going for a walk to clear my head,’ she called towards the kitchen where she could see Angela tidying mugs off the table. Brian appeared in the doorway, as if from nowhere. Harriet ignored him as she grabbed her cardigan off a coat hook and slipped on a pair of shoes that were neatly tucked into the corner beside the fishing rods that still hadn’t been moved.