The Haunting of Harriet (24 page)

“You’re right. I am over-tired. I need to sleep. It’s best left until morning. Tomorrow is another day and we have the whole weekend to discuss this.” As she left the room she looked over her shoulder to where her husband was sitting and added: “You’ll find sheets for the green room in the airing cupboard. Try not to leave it in a mess. Oh, the other receipts are on the sideboard. I look forward to hearing how you explain those. Good night.”

It hung in the night air, unresolved and threatening. Liz hardly slept. She tried to imagine always lying in a bed with a duvet to herself and an empty space beside her. The thought filled her with horror. She had started something that had to be seen through, and it tasted bitter.

I
t was with considerable resentment that Liz found herself planning Edward’s fortieth birthday celebrations. No one really wanted to come to the party except the twins. Even the sun declined the offer. All morning it rained and it rained even harder all afternoon. The guests arrived at seven, damp and unenthusiastic. It was a small affair: the remnants of the Circus, a few mates from Edward’s office and the next-door neighbours. The dreadful weather cast a dark cloud over an already gloomy occasion. Liz supplied a splendid buffet and the wine flowed freely, but the mix of people was not quite right for the party to gel. The children sensed the brittle atmosphere and wisely took themselves off to the attic as soon as they could. In fact after the meal everyone split, some to watch a video and some to play cards. Mel agreed to give a Tarot reading to Liz’s neighbour and was settling herself opposite the rather large woman at the occasional table between the two long windows facing the lake. Her heart was not in the cards and she looked around for inspiration. Desperate to focus her drifting thoughts, she found herself gazing at the window, tracing the patterns of the raindrops that ran down the glass. When she looked through the glass she caught sight of a couple heading across the lawn.

It was Edward with another woman. Mel scanned the room. There was one noticeable absence in the shapely form of Edward’s personal assistant. It was her struggling across the wet grass in four-inch heels, balancing a large golf umbrella. In spite of the heavy rain the couple were heading down the garden towards the bridge. Sophie, the sexy PA, had appeared for the first time that evening and Mel’s psychic antenna had picked up danger signals. There was an insincere niceness about the creature, something unhealthy about the way she looked at Edward; she seldom took her eyes off him, which did little to allay Mel’s suspicious thoughts. Mel’s concentration was broken, having been diverted by shadowy figures outside. Making an excuse to the neighbour, she checked the room to establish Liz’s whereabouts and was relieved to find her engrossed in a game of poker and likely to be occupied for some time.

Mel slipped on Liz’s gumboots and grabbed a Barbour from the back door. Making sure she was not being watched, she followed the escapees. They had covered the last few yards in record time and were already at the door of the boathouse as Mel positioned herself behind the willow. They were holding hands and giggling and presumably kissing behind the brolly. The girl slipped inside. Edward cast a furtive eye around, followed her and closed the door. It was straight out of a Noel Coward play and Mel was not sure whether to laugh or puke. Instead she crossed the bridge and crept to the far side of the building.

The only light came from the moon and a few timid solar lamps scattered around the jetty. She welcomed the cover of the deep shadow. The sight that greeted her as she peered in through the window was predictable. The couple were embracing passionately. There was no doubt that this was not the first time those lips had met and there was every sign that they knew exactly where their actions were heading. As she had no wish to play the voyeur and had already seen far more than she wanted to she tried to devise a possible plan of action. Determined to spoil their fun, she was assessing her best means of attack when she inadvertently collided with an extremely large terracotta pot. Instinct made her grab the main stem of the camellia it contained and she managed to steady it, before restoring it to its secure resting place on the decking, miraculously preventing the almighty crash that would surely have given her away. She wanted to catch them in the act. She intended to shame them. Inevitably the lovers were too preoccupied with one another to notice the muffled sounds outside.

Mel patted the shaken plant and steadied herself, patting her own trembling legs. It was then that she caught sight of Jenny running from the house towards the stream. There was no mistaking those long athletic legs that were carrying her with increasing speed towards the scene of the crime. Mel had to act quickly. Her brain was racing unproductively when she heard Liz’s voice calling to her daughter. The voice came from the house and as quickly as she had appeared Jenny stopped, turned and ran back. Mel sent up a prayer of thanks to her guardian angel. Another second and the poor child would have witnessed the whole sordid thing. The idea of bursting in on Edward and his “bit of stuff” was one thing, but she had no wish to involve Jenny. Time was short. Direct action was needed before the culprits could prepare their defence. Throwing open the door of the boathouse, she walked calmly over to the table and picked up a book that was lying there. She turned, said good evening to the somewhat dishevelled couple and simply walked out, taking care to leave the door wide open behind her.

Later, out of earshot of Liz or the others, Edward accosted Mel. “It isn’t what you think. It’s all perfectly innocent. For Christ sake, don’t tell Liz. Can we keep this between the two of us? Please, Mel, I’m begging you. I really love Liz. It would destroy her. You know that. Please don’t tell her.” Mel’s look was enough to let Edward know what she thought of him. She was tempted to keep him dangling, let him suffer.

Eventually she said, “You pathetic bastard, of course I won’t tell her. But if you ever hurt Liz or those kids I’ll kill you.”

“OK. Message received.” As he spoke Edward doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Harriet could no longer restrain herself. She punched him hard in the solar plexus and felt much better for it. She had of course played her own part in the drama. She knew that Jenny’s book was in the boathouse and that at some point she would want to retrieve it. She too had seen the guilty couple slip away in the dark and she was determined to put an end to any shenanigans that could jeopardize her family’s happiness. She had been racking her brains to find a way to expose the couple, but everything she came up with involved the rest of the guests or the family finding out. She did not want to see Liz humiliated and especially did not want to confront Jenny with her father’s infidelity. It was that stupid woman tripping over the pot that gave Harriet the idea. She had called Jenny back to the house. As for that psychic, she had proved herself quite useful after all. Maybe she was not all bad. Harriet decided to reserve judgment.

The confrontation between Mel and Edward was cut short by Jenny grabbing Mel around the waist. “Oh, great, you found my book. Where was it? I searched everywhere.”

“It was in the boathouse.” Mel was drying her hair on the kitchen towel and praying that Jenny had not over heard her conversation with Edward.

“I knew that’s where I’d left it. I ran all the way down there in the rain, but Mummy called me back, saying she’d got it, then a few minutes later denied all knowledge of it. Can you believe that? She’s getting old, you know. How old do you have to be to get Alzheimer’s? Are you all right, Dad? You look as if someone punched you in the guts!”

Jenny gave Mel a kiss and took the book from her. Mel stood for a while watching the girl attack the stairs two at a time. She was growing up fast, turning into an amazing young woman. Jenny paused on the landing to smile back and Mel saw her as a grown woman, centre-stage surrounded by thunderous applause, a standing ovation. It was La Scala, The Met, Covent Garden…. Mel’s vision ended abruptly, stopped by someone patting her on the back. When she turned around the hall was empty.
Maybe she is a bit psychic after all
, thought Harriet,

The party was over and the last of the guests had gone. The final dregs of clearing up were almost done. Throwing her tea towel onto the draining-board Liz looked at her husband in the stainless-steely light of the kitchen. His once luxurious brown hair was greying at the temples. It was noticeably thinner and had begun to recede. Liz studied the face. Tell-tale signs of crow’s feet where his blue eyes had narrowed against the sun were already quite pronounced. He looked tired and strained. She could have got it horribly wrong. She did tend to jump to conclusions. There was so much at stake here. Would it be so difficult to draw a line under it all and chalk it up to mid-life crisis? As soon as she resolved to be magnanimous she felt a surge of relief, as though she were purged. Was this how saints felt when they forgave sinners? Things took on a different perspective for her, one that would let them move on together, which was what she wanted more than any of the other hideous alternatives.

This was the man she loved, whom she had vowed to spend her life standing beside, for better or worse. If this was the worst, it was not that bad. Was she greedy to want more? How could she have been so horrible to him? She kissed him and he pulled away. When he kissed her back it was just a peck.

“You made me jump. Sorry, Liz.”

She wondered if he shared her thoughts. They were still capable of being happy, weren’t they? Did he still love her?

“That was a lovely evening, wasn’t it? There was a fantastic sunset, did you see it? Don’t you love the way the sun goes to sleep each night? Mummy used to say it was so that he’d wake up refreshed and ready to fill tomorrow with sunshine.”

“God, Liz, you do talk crap sometimes. It’s just a star; a spectral-type G star, that’s a yellow one, if you really want to know. It can’t make decisions.”

Liz sighed and took her own face in her hands. “I’m getting old, aren’t I?”

“You look stunning. You always do.”

“Let’s go to bed. Whisk me away from all this and have your wicked way with me.” Liz tilted her head and looked sideways at Edward. She was flirting shamelessly and actually enjoying it. She felt young and, yes, stunning. Why not? That was his word and it fitted.

“Not tonight, Liz, I’m knackered. Nice party, well done.” He yawned, another noisy unromantic yawn, and throwing his sweater round his shoulders he made his way upstairs.

Liz stayed downstairs. She curled up in the armchair in the Fourth Room with The Pote on her lap and together they watched the dying embers until they grew cold. Miserable and dejected, she pulled herself up to go to bed. Seeing Jenny’s sampler hanging on the bird-shaped hook Liz reached out to touch it. A tidal wave of emotions washed over her, sapping her strength as it dragged back taking her feet from under her. Steadying herself she moved to the centre of the room. The small black-and-white photograph filled her thoughts. Who had hidden it there? She knew it was connected to the little boat. “I will find out what happened, one day you will keep your promise and tell me everything you know.” The Pote scuttled off, alarmed by his mistress’s raised voice, and she followed him out, feeling guilty for upsetting him. It was hardly his fault that she felt so dreadful. As she locked the door behind her it was to keep something in rather than locking anyone out. She put the griffin key back on its secret ledge then marched back across the hall and on upstairs. Throwing her clothes on the floor she climbed noisily into bed, pulled the duvet off her snoring spouse and masturbated herself to sleep.

Desperate for a solution, Liz decided to consult Mel. Mel actually laughed in Liz’s astonished face. Then she got extremely angry. She accused her friend of taking Edward for granted: of being a spoilt brat. Didn’t she recognize a good husband when she saw one? If his behaviour was harming the family and the marriage it was certainly not intentional. Didn’t she realize by now that men do not see the obvious? They go through life in blinkers and it is women who have to steer the course if they want to change direction. If Liz perceived a problem then it was up to her to tackle it. She should either confront him head-on or try a more subtle approach to win back his attention. It was her opinion that most men had affairs because they were feeling scared or trapped. Women attacked the same problem by becoming profligate with money, whereas men reverted to other more physically basic means. She did not believe Edward was having an affair, or at least so she told Liz. He might have been tempted, or even have dipped his toe in the water. But it was nothing that could not be reversed or forgiven. She acknowledged that he could be selfish and vain, but basically he was a committed family man. A few over-generous and misplaced gifts did not constitute grounds for divorce. No, Mel sounded convinced that the problem was mostly of Liz’s doing and therefore the solution must be hers too. Anyway it was always the woman’s job to put things right. Men were so pathetically hopeless at saying sorry.