Chapter 46
To my parents, in recognition
To my two little miracles, in joy
She puts the letter to one side. Today isn’t about that. Not in this moment. Today is about Harriet. Her, and Harriet, making a fresh start, together. Away from all this nonsense. If the letter shows anything, it’s that they need to make that fresh start even further away. There’ll be people looking for them. And Harriet is so pretty – people will notice them. England is too small. She needs to go abroad. They need to get tickets to France or, ideally, somewhere outside Europe that doesn’t need a visa. Somewhere not hugely swamped with international newspapers. She gets out her phone, begins Googling destinations. That’s stupid, though. She should just take Harriet to the airport, see what flights they can get. And go.
Resolved, she gets to her feet. Thank God for Harriet being well looked after this morning, while the fresh crisis was breaking. She can imagine her now, playing happily on the grass. Soon, Harriet will be playing happily in another country, doting eyes on her. They’ll be happy together. Of course they will.
At first glance, she doesn’t notice, when she gets outside.
The absence.
She looks around another time.
It’s then she realises: Harriet isn’t there.
Just the woman who was supposed to be looking after her, sitting all alone.
KIRSTEN, 4 SEPTEMBER 2018
‘I just wasn’t sure about the headteacher, at the new joiners evening, you know?’ Kirsten says to her husband, as she gazes at little Harriet. She bites her lip, as she resists the urge to hug her daughter another time before getting her into the car. Harriet looks so smart and grown-up in her new uniform, but Kirsten doesn’t want to deliver her to the destination: first day of reception.
Ian lays a hand on Kirsten’s shoulder.
‘The headteacher was just fine, darling. You know that. You got on like a house on fire.’ There’s a wryness to his delivery, probably born of being a headmaster himself. He knows the conversations that go on.
‘And what about the other kids? They say that the most important thing is the cohort your child’s in. What if they’re mean?’
Ian shrugs. ‘There’s bound to be one mean kid there. Maybe it will be Harriet.’
Kirsten shoots him a poison dart with her eyes.
‘Joking,’ he tells her. ‘Harriet’s no bully. But they’re five, Kirsten. No one’s going to be selling drugs, or making them down alcohol.’
Kirsten looks at him more carefully this time. It’s an oddly chosen example, considering.
She sees Ian notice her look. ‘Whatever,’ he says. ‘What I mean is, she’ll be fine, you need to get her in the car, or we’ll both be late, OK? You’ve been taking her to nursery for three years. School’s no different, really. She should be so lucky, going somewhere like that. We can catch up this evening.’
Kirsten nods. But she
