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Epub ISBN: 9781473556782

Version 1.0

Published by Century 2018

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Copyright © Heidi Perks 2018

Cover images © Arcangel Images

Heidi Perks has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in Great Britain by Century in 2018

Century
The Penguin Random House Group Limited
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London, SW1V 2SA

www.penguin.co.uk

Century is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9781780898834

Contents

NOW

‘My name is Charlotte Reynolds.’ I lean forward as I speak into the tape recorder, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it just feels imperative that I at least get my name across clearly. Reaching out for the glass in front of me I grip it between my fingertips, pushing it slowly in anticlockwise circles, watching the water inside it ripple into tiny ridges. I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath until I let it out in a large puff.

The clock on the otherwise bare white wall flashes 21:16 in bright red lights. My children will be in bed by now. Tom said he will stay the night and sleep in the spare room. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told me when I called him earlier. ‘I won’t go anywhere until you’re home.’ This isn’t what I’m worrying about but I don’t say as much.

Home feels so far away from this airless whitewashed room with its three chairs and desk and the tape recorder balanced on one end of it, and I wonder how long I will be here. How long can they keep me before they decide what comes next? Ever since the fete I have dreaded leaving my children. I’d do anything to be tucking them into their beds right now so I can breathe in their familiar smells, read them that one more story they always beg for.

‘They’re not holding you there, are they?’ Tom had asked me on the phone.

‘No, they just want to ask me a few questions.’ I brushed off the fact I was in a police station as if it were nothing. I didn’t tell Tom that the detective had asked if I wanted someone to be with me, that I’d refused and had assured her as breezily as I could that I didn’t need anyone as I’d happily tell her what I knew.

My fingers begin to tingle and I pull them away from the glass and hold them under the table, squeezing them tightly, willing the blood to rush back in.

‘So, Charlotte,’ the detective starts in a slow drawl. She has asked me if she can use my first name but hasn’t offered me the privilege in return. I know her name is Suzanne because she said as much into the tape, but I expect she knows I won’t call her that. Not when she introduced herself as Detective Inspector Rawlings. It’s a small point but it reinforces who is in control.

My breath sticks tightly in my throat as I wait for her to ask me what I was doing there tonight. In many ways the truth would be the easy option. I wonder if I tell her she’d let me leave now so I can go home to my children.

The detective is interrupted by a knock on the door and she looks up as a police officer pokes her head into the room. ‘DCI Hayes is on his way from Dorset,’ the officer says. ‘ETA three hours.’

Rawlings nods her thanks and the door closes again. Hayes is the Senior Investigating Officer in what has become the Alice Hodder case. He has become a constant fixture in my life over the last two weeks and I wonder if this means I will be kept here until he arrives because I assume he will want to speak to me. The thought that I could be cooped inside this room for another three hours makes the walls close in deeper. I don’t remember ever feeling claustrophobic but right now the sense of being trapped makes me feel light-headed and my eyes flicker as they try to adjust again.

‘Are you OK?’ DI Rawlings asks. Her words sound rough. They give the impression it would annoy her if I weren’t. She has dyed blonde hair scraped back into a tight bun, which shows the black of her roots. She looks young, no more than thirty, and has plastered too much bright red lipstick on to her very full lips.

I hold a hand against my mouth and hope the feeling of nausea will pass. I nod and reach for the glass of water to take a sip. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Thank you, I’ll be OK. I just feel a little sick.’

DI Rawlings purses her red lips and sits back in her chair. She’s in no rush. She may want it to appear that the evening’s events have disturbed her plans but her pregnant pauses betray she has nothing better to do.

‘So,’ she starts again and asks her first question but it isn’t the one I’m expecting. ‘Let’s begin by you telling me what happened thirteen days ago,’ she says instead. ‘The day of the fete.’

BEFORE

Charlotte

At dead on ten o’clock on Saturday morning the doorbell rang and I knew it would be Harriet because she was never a minute late. I emerged from the bathroom, still in my pyjamas, as the bell rang a second time. Flicking back the curtains to be sure it was them, I saw Harriet hovering on the doorstep, her arm tightly gripped around her daughter’s shoulder. Her head hung low as she spoke to Alice. The little girl beside her nodded as she turned and nestled her head into her mother’s waist.

My own children’s screams erupted from downstairs. The two girls’ voices battled to be heard over one another. Evie was now drowning out Molly with a constant, piercing whine and, as I ran down the stairs, I could just make out Molly crying at her younger sister to shut up.

‘Will you both stop shouting,’ I yelled as I reached the bottom. My eldest, Jack, sat obliviously in the playroom, earphones on, zoned into a game on the iPad that I wished Tom had never bought him. How I sometimes envied Jack’s ability to shut himself into his own world. I picked Evie off the floor, wiping a hand across her damp face and rubbing at the Marmite smeared upwards from both corners of her mouth. ‘You look like the Joker.’

Evie stared back at me. At three she was still suffering from the terrible twos. She had at least thankfully stopped bawling and was now kicking one foot against the other. ‘Come on, let’s play nicely for Alice’s sake,’ I said as I opened the door.

‘Hi Harriet, how are you doing?’ I crouched down next to Alice and smiled at the little girl who continued to bury her head into her mum’s skirt. ‘Are you looking forward to the school fete today, Alice?’

I didn’t expect an answer, but I ploughed on regardless. Besides, once Molly took her under her wing, Alice would happily follow her around like a puppy. In turn my six-year-old would have an air of smug superiority because finally a younger child was looking up to her.

‘Thank you again for today,’ Harriet said as I straightened up.

I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s a pleasure. You know it is. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve begged you to let me have Alice for you,’ I grinned.

Harriet’s right hand played with the seam of her skirt, balling it up then pressing it down flat, and for a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I expected her to be apprehensive, I’d even thought she might have cancelled.

‘But with four of them, are you sure—’ she started.

‘Harriet,’ I cut her off. ‘I’m more than happy to take Alice to the fete. Please don’t worry about it.’

Harriet nodded. ‘I’ve already put sun cream on her.’

‘Oh. That’s good.’ That meant I now had to find sun cream for my own. Did I have any?

‘Well, it’s so hot and I don’t want her burning …’ she drifted off, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

‘You are looking forward to your course today, aren’t you?’ I asked. ‘Only you don’t look like you are. You should be, it’s exactly what you need.’

Harriet shrugged and looked at me blankly. ‘It’s bookkeeping,’ she said.

‘I know, but it’s what you want to do. It’s great that you’re planning your future.’

I meant it, even though I’d originally turned my nose up at the fact it was bookkeeping. I’d tried to convince Harriet to do a gardening course instead because she would make a brilliant gardener. I could picture her running around town with her own little van and told her I’d even design a website for her. Harriet had looked as if she was mulling the idea over but eventually said that gardening didn’t pay as much.

‘You could do my garden for me,’ I’d said. ‘I need someone to come and give me some new ideas. I would—’ I stopped abruptly because I’d been about to say I’d pay her more than the going rate but I knew my good intentions weren’t always taken in the right way when it came to money.

‘How about teaching?’ I’d said instead. ‘You know how wonderful you’d be. Just look at the way you were with Jack when I first met you.’

‘I’d have to train to be a teacher and that won’t get me a job this September,’ she’d replied and averted her gaze. I knew her well enough to know when to stop.

‘Then bookkeeping it is,’ I’d said, smiling, ‘and you’ll be great at that too.’ Even if it wasn’t what I’d do, at least Harriet was thinking about a time past September when Alice started school and she could concentrate on something for herself. I had another two long years until Evie started and I could get back some semblance of a career instead of two days a week working for the twenty-something upstart who’d once reported to me.

‘Oh, I haven’t packed a picnic or anything,’ Harriet said suddenly.

‘I’m not bothering with picnics.’ I brushed a hand through the air. ‘We can get something there. The PTA invest more in food stalls than anything else,’ I joked.

‘Right.’ Harriet nodded her head but didn’t smile, after a moment adding, ‘Let me get you some money.’

‘No,’ I said firmly, hopefully not too sharply. ‘No need, let me do it.’

‘But it’s not a problem.’

‘I know it isn’t,’ I smiled. ‘But please, let me do this, Harriet. The girls are excited Alice is joining us and we’re going to have a great day. Please don’t worry about her,’ I said again, holding my hand out towards Alice, though she didn’t take it.

Harriet bent down and pulled her daughter in for a hug and I watched the little girl melt into her mother’s chest. I took a step back feeling like I should give them some space. There was such a tight bond between Harriet and her daughter that felt so much more raw than anything I had with my children, but I also knew what a big deal today was for her. Because, despite Alice being four, Harriet had never left her daughter with anyone before today.

I’d been thrilled when I’d first left Evie overnight with my friend Audrey, and she’d been barely two months old. I’d had to coax Tom into coming to the pub with me and even though we were home by nine-thirty and I had crashed out on the sofa half an hour later it was worth it for a night of undisturbed sleep.

‘I love you,’ Harriet whispered into Alice’s hair. ‘I love you so much. Be a good girl, won’t you? And stay safe.’ She lingered in the hug, her arms pressing tighter around her daughter. When she pulled back she took hold of Alice’s face in her hands and gently pressed her lips against her daughter’s nose.

I waited awkwardly on the step for Harriet to eventually pull herself up. ‘Do you want to go and play with Molly in her bedroom before we go to the fete?’ I asked Alice, then turned to Harriet. ‘Do you still want me to drop her back at your house at five?’

Harriet nodded. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, making no move to leave.

‘Please stop thanking me,’ I smiled. ‘I’m your best friend, it’s what I’m here for.’ Besides, I wanted to have Alice for her; Harriet had been there for me enough times over the last two years. ‘You know you can trust me,’ I added.

But then maybe we were a little more on edge than usual since a boy had been taken from the park last October. He was nine – the same age as Jack had been at the time – and it happened only the other side of Dorset. Close enough for us all to feel the threat, and still no one had any idea why he’d been taken or what had happened to him.

I reached out and took hold of my friend’s arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll take good care of her.’ And eventually Harriet stepped off my doorstep and I took Alice’s hand and brought her into the hallway.

‘You’ve got my number if you need me,’ Harriet said.

‘I’ll call if there’s a problem. But there won’t be,’ I added.

‘Brian’s fishing; he has his phone with him but he rarely answers it.’

‘OK, well I’ll get hold of you if need be,’ I said. I didn’t have Brian’s number anyway; there was no reason for me to. I wanted Harriet to hurry up and go. I was conscious I was still in my pyjamas and could see Ray from the house opposite staring as he mowed his front lawn in painfully slow stripes. ‘Harriet, you’ll be late,’ I said, deciding I needed to be firm with her now or I’d find her dithering on my doorstep for the rest of the day.

When Harriet eventually left I closed the door and took a deep breath. There was a time when I would have called out to Tom that Ray was watching me and we would laugh about it. It was at the oddest times that it struck me I had no one to share those moments with since we’d separated.

‘Ray caught me wearing my pyjamas,’ I said, grinning at Jack as he emerged from the playroom.

My son stared at me. ‘Can you get me a juice?’

I sighed. ‘No, Jack. You’re ten. You can get your own juice and can you say hello to Alice, please?’

Jack looked at Alice as if he had never seen her before. ‘Hello Alice,’ he said before disappearing into the kitchen.

‘Well that’s as good as it gets, I’m afraid.’ I smiled at Alice who had already taken Molly’s hand and was being led up the stairs. ‘Everyone, I’m going to have a shower and then we’ll get ready for the fete,’ I called out, but my words were met with silence.

When I reached the bedroom my mobile was ringing and Tom’s number flashed up on the screen. ‘We agreed seven p.m.,’ I said when I’d answered the phone.

‘What?’ he shouted over the noise of traffic.

I sighed and muttered under my breath for him to put the damn car roof up. I spoke louder. ‘I said seven p.m. I assume you’ve forgotten what time you were coming to sit with the kids tonight?’ Even though I’d only told him yesterday.

‘Actually I just wanted to check you definitely still need me.’

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. ‘Yes, Tom, I’m still planning to go out.’ I didn’t ask him often; I didn’t go out enough to have to. In the two years since we’d separated I had gradually realised I didn’t need to show him I was still having fun, and most of the time I wasn’t anyway. Now I was comfortable enough in my single life to only go out when I wanted to. Though, if I were being honest, I didn’t really fancy drinks with the neighbours tonight but I wasn’t going to give Tom the satisfaction of letting me down at the last minute.

‘It’s just something’s come up with work. I don’t have to go but it would look better if I’m there.’

I rubbed my hand over my eyes and silently screamed. I knew what my night would be like: awkward conversation over too much wine with neighbours who I had little in common with. Yet I felt I should go. Not only had I promised them, but I’d let them down the last time they had a drinks party and probably the time before that.

‘You told me you were free,’ I said flatly.

‘I know, and I’ll still come over if you really need me. It’s just that—’

‘Oh, Tom,’ I sighed.

‘I’m not backing out if you still want me. I was just checking you definitely want to go, that’s all. You never usually want to.’

‘Yes, I want to go,’ I snapped, hating that he still knew me so well. I wouldn’t get this hassle if I used a babysitter but I knew the kids loved having him over.

‘OK, OK, I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Seven o’clock.’

‘Thank you. And come on your own,’ I said, before I could help myself. I knew he would never bring his new girlfriend; he hadn’t even introduced her to the children yet.

‘Charlotte,’ he said. ‘You know you don’t have to say that.’

‘I’m just checking,’ I said sharply before putting the phone down and feeling irritatingly guilty. I didn’t have to say that because, despite the way he still annoyed me, I couldn’t fault Tom’s parenting. And we muddled through surprisingly well.

As I turned on the shower I tried not to think about why I was rattled by his latest relationship news. It wasn’t as if I wanted him back. Fifteen years of marriage hadn’t ended on a whim; by then we had gradually grown too far apart. Maybe I just didn’t like change, I thought, stepping into the shower. Maybe I had got too comfortable with the easy flow of my life.

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 otherwise.

‘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.

‘Or leave her with Brian and come away with the girls instead?’ Charlotte had persisted.

She couldn’t see herself doing either so mostly she never let on how she felt because she despised the fact she was like this in the first place. No one would know what it took to leave Alice with Charlotte today. But Charlotte had been thrilled she had asked her so Harriet hadn’t told her there was no one else to ask.

‘You have to let them go one day,’ a woman in a shop once said to her. ‘One day they grow their wings and just fly away. Like a butterfly,’ she added, flapping her arms in the air. Harriet resisted the urge to slap them back down.

Alice would want to fly away one day, just like she had. Her own mum had held on to her too much, so Harriet was well aware how destructive it could be. She’d promised herself not to be like that with her own children and yet here she was. Somewhere along the line she had become the mother she didn’t want to be.

Harriet should forget the phone and go back into the room and suffer through the rest of the course. It didn’t matter, she told her reflection. It was only another – she checked her watch – two hours at most, and she’d be home at four-thirty p.m. as planned.

Or she could slip away like that young girl had.

Harriet tapped her fingers against the basin. She really needed to be able to make simple decisions.

Charlotte

As I peered through the mesh window of the Jungle Run, all I saw were screaming children tumbling over each other, barely realising they were stepping on others in their excitement. Alice could be crouching in a corner and most of the kids wouldn’t give her a second glance. I had to go on it myself – I couldn’t rely on Jack to search for her properly.

‘Come on, girls,’ I said, trying to keep my voice even. ‘Let’s go and see where Alice has got to.’ I grabbed the girls’ hands and as we ran to the back of the Jungle Run it crossed my mind I wouldn’t have been worried if it were any of my children. They were prone to hiding from me or wandering off. But Alice? I couldn’t imagine her doing either. There was something so fragile about her that wasn’t like any other child I knew. And there was something so unthinkable about losing someone else’s child.

Five metres from the back of the run was the fence that separated the field from the parkland, and in the distance a line of trees partly hid the golf course beyond. I slipped off my shoes and, holding them in one hand, crawled through the Jungle Run, both girls close at my heels.

I called Alice’s name as we clambered over ramps and scrambled through tunnels, looking at every child we passed, hoping to see a flash of her red dress.

‘Where could she have gone?’ I called out to Jack who was waiting at the end. He shrugged in response as I inelegantly swung a leg over the final slide and pushed myself down, holding my hands out to Evie who was giggling behind me, lost in a bubble of excitement that I had crawled through with her.

‘God, this is ridiculous.’ I looked around me, slipping my shoes back on and turning to the children. ‘Did she say anything about wanting to go anywhere else? Did she mention the magician maybe?’ I hadn’t seen her come into the tent but she could have wandered off in the wrong direction and got lost. ‘Surely I would have seen her,’ I murmured to none of them in particular.

‘Molly, did you actually see her get on this thing?’ I asked, my voice rising an octave as I gestured behind us at the inflatable.

‘I think so.’

‘You think so?’

‘Well …’ She paused. ‘I think she came on after me.’

‘But you don’t know for sure?’ I said, trying my hardest not to shout.

Molly shook her head. I went over to the woman who had taken my money and was now talking to another mum about the cake stall. ‘A little girl came on this with my children,’ I interrupted. ‘About ten minutes ago now, but there’s no sign of her.’

‘Oh?’ I doubted she’d noticed which children were getting on and off. She’d barely lifted her head when I’d placed the coins in her outstretched hand. ‘Sorry, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘What does she look like?’

‘About this high.’ My hand hovered at the top of Molly’s head. Alice was tall for her age. ‘She’s only four, though; she’s wearing a red dress with a white belt.’

The woman shook her head as her friend stared at me blankly. ‘No, sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember seeing her. I’ll keep a lookout, though.’

‘Oh God.’ I felt sick. This couldn’t be happening.

‘What do we do?’ Jack looked at me, biting the edge of his thumbnail as he waited for an answer. He wasn’t worried; why would he be? He assumed I’d sort out the problem and then, when we found Alice, we’d move on to the next activity.

‘We start looking for her.’ I took hold of the girls’ hands again. ‘We’ll search the whole field. She has to be here somewhere.’ But my pulse raced a little faster as we started walking, Jack close behind us, weaving through the crowds across the field, back towards the car park. And the more time that passed, the quicker it beat.

We stopped at every stall, looked under trestle tables, between the long legs of the adults, all of us calling Alice’s name with varying degrees of panic. Past Hook-A-Duck and the football shoot-out, the lines of dads cheering when one of them missed. The tombola, the cake stall again. As we passed each one the grip on my daughters’ hands tightened, my head constantly swivelling round to check Jack was following.

‘Have you seen a little girl?’ I stopped just past the cake stall and called out to a mum from Molly’s year who was running the toy stand. My voice was louder than I intended. ‘Blonde hair to here.’ I pointed to just below my shoulder. ‘Red dress.’

Her expression was grim as she shook her head. ‘Where have you looked?’

‘Everywhere,’ I cried out in a tight breath.

For a moment I couldn’t move. My hands started to tremble; I didn’t realise how tightly I was gripping on to my girls until Molly yelped as she tried to pull away. I needed to do something, but what? Put out an announcement? Call the police? I’d lost track of how long it had been since I’d seen her. Didn’t every second count in these situations?

‘Why don’t you see if you can put a tannoy out?’ the mum asked as if reading my thoughts.

I stared back at her, not knowing how to answer. The truth was I didn’t want to. Because as soon as I did I was admitting this was serious. I was admitting I had lost a child. And someone else’s child at that.

‘Charlotte?’ A hand clasped my shoulder and I turned, coming face to face with Audrey.

‘Oh God, Aud.’ I dropped the girls’ hands and clamped my own over my mouth. ‘I’ve lost Alice. I can’t find her anywhere.’

‘OK,’ she said calmly, automatically looking about. ‘Don’t panic, she’s going to be around somewhere.’

‘What do I do? I’ve been round the whole field.’ I needed Audrey to tell me. Needed her to fix it in the no-nonsense way she’s so good at.

‘We’ll find someone in charge,’ she said. ‘Maybe they can close down all the exits.’ She looked over towards the car park and I followed her gaze. Streams of cars continued to meander in. The fete was getting busier.

‘Who?’ There was no one in charge. I’d not once seen the headmaster, Mr Harrison, with his loudspeaker. He was supposed to be here today; he always attended the fete. But no one was acting as security or even watching the gates to the car park or the perimeters of the field apart from Gail. Alice could have got out in any one of four directions had she wanted to. Is that what she had done at the back of the inflatable? Had she, for whatever reason, climbed over the fence and headed towards the golf course?

‘We’ve lost a little girl,’ Audrey called out to anyone who would listen. ‘We need everyone to look for her.’ She turned to me. ‘Maybe we should call the police.’

I shook my head as a couple of other mums came up to us. ‘Are you OK, Charlotte?’ one asked. ‘Who have you lost?’

‘My friend’s daughter,’ I cried. My hands pressed into the sides of my face, fingers stretching to cover my eyes. ‘Alice. Her name is Alice. She’s only four. Oh God, this isn’t happening.’

‘It’s OK,’ she said as she took hold of my arms and eventually prised my hands away. ‘Everyone can help look. Don’t worry, we’ll find her. How long has it been?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, my heart beating rapidly as I tried to think how long it was since I’d last seen her. ‘Maybe about twenty minutes.’

‘Twenty minutes?’ the mum said

‘OK,’ Audrey interjected. ‘I’m calling the police.’

The news of a missing child spread rapidly. A Chinese whisper passed through the crowd, kicking up a burst of activity as everyone looked around them. The threat of danger, an unspoken murmur of excitement that everyone had a role in finding her, no doubt wanting to be the one who could call out that she was hiding beneath their stall.

I doubted any of them were imagining the worst. Children get lost and it was never long before they were found and the terrified parents gushed their thanks to the person who happened to be the lucky one to come across them.

In a daze I let Audrey lead us to the edge of the field by the car park, where she had agreed to meet the police.

I rested my back against the fence, the glare of sunlight pounding down on us. People in front of me were beginning to blur and, as my eyes flickered to refocus, a wave of nausea surged through me.

‘Drink some water.’ Audrey pressed a bottle into my hand and I took a large gulp. ‘And for God’s sake move into the shade. You look as if you’re about to faint,’ she said as she nudged me towards a tree. ‘Alice will turn up,’ she went on. ‘She’s just run off and got lost.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ After all, nothing awful happened in Chiddenford. Not in a sleepy Dorset village. ‘But I just don’t think Alice would run off.’

‘All kids do from time to time,’ Aud said. ‘Alice is no different to any other four-year-old.’

But you don’t know Alice, I thought. Alice is different. Audrey had never taken the time to get to know Alice, most likely because she’d never got a word out of her. She’d never really taken the time to get to know Harriet either.

‘I should call Harriet,’ I said as she ushered my children to a patch of grass where they obediently sat down.

‘Talk me through what happened again.’

‘I don’t know what happened. Alice just vanished. She went round the back of the inflatable and never came off it. What do I tell Harriet?’ I took another sip from the bottle. ‘I can’t tell her I’ve lost her daughter, Aud,’ I cried.

‘You need to try and keep calm,’ she said, taking hold of my arms and pulling me round so I was facing her. ‘Breathe slowly. Come on. One, two …’ She started counting slowly and I fell into her rhythm. ‘Alice will be found soon, I know she will, so there’s no point worrying Harriet yet. And besides –’ her gaze drifted over my shoulder ‘– the police are here.’

Audrey nodded towards the road and I turned to watch the marked car pull up alongside the field next to the entrance to the car park. Two uniformed officers got out and as they walked towards us the graveness of the situation smacked me once more. Now it was official. Alice was missing.