Part 12 (1/2)

'Wa.s.sat noise?' a small, husky voice asked.

Progress, thought Harriet. 'It's my asthma inhaler, Joel.' She heard a sob catch in his throat. 'Are you ... ill?'

'No, of course not. I'm as fit as a fiddle. How about you? I hear you've had another bad dream.'

Silence again.

'Joel?'

'Are you coming back?' His voice was a dried-up raspy whisper. He'd probably cried his throat raw.

'On Sunday. Don't you remember we discussed all that?'

'Can't you come back now?'

'I don't know if you've noticed, Joel, but it's the middle of the night.'

'But I want you here. Why can't you come home?' He started to cry again.

'Oh, Joel, it's not as easy as that.' How could she explain that even if she wanted to leap into the car and drive all the way home, she couldn't because she was well over the limit? 'Listen to me, Joel,' she said as firmly as her breath would allow her. 'You have to go back to bed and get some sleep. It's not fair to Grandma and Granddad.'

'No!' he wailed. 'I don't want to.'

'I know you don't; I also know what's been causing the nightmares you've been having. But none of it's true. All that stuff Carrie's been saying - she was making it up.'

'But why would she say those things if they weren't true?'

'I haven't a clue.' And thinking it might help him to talk about the nightmares, she said, 'Do you want to tell me what goes on in your dreams?'

Her question went unanswered.

'Okay, I'll take the silence as a no.' She took another puff of her inhaler. Her heart was racing now, but she could feel her lungs expanding and the air getting through.

'Is that your inhaler again?'

'Yes.'

'You're not going to die, are you?'

His question shook her. 'Joel, now listen very hard. I've always told you the truth, and I'm not about to start lying to you now. I'm not dying, and your parents didn't die the way Carrie said they did. Ghosts don't exist and you have nothing to be frightened of. Unlike your sister, who's going to get a good talking-to from me when I get home.'

After a lengthy pause, he said, 'Harriet?'

'Yes?'

'Please come home. I want you to come back. I don't like it when you're not here.'

Not for a long time had Harriet allowed anyone to manipulate her, but this boy could do it every time. Stupid thing was, she realised she didn't care; her planned day of watching s.e.x and the City DVDs with Erin had lost its appeal anyway. 'I'll be home some time after breakfast,' she said. 'How does that sound?'

As if by magic, he cheered up instantly. 'Will you take me to the bookshop? The one where your friend works?'

'I will.' Then seizing her opportunity, she added, 'But you have to promise me you'll go to bed right now. This very minute.'

'Can I have a drink first?'

'A very quick one.'

Harriet was on the road by seven. Erin surfaced briefly, and yawning hugely like the Dormouse at the Mad Hatter's tea party, she said she completely understood that Harriet had to get home. 'No worries,' she said, 'we'll get together again soon.' But Harriet knew it wasn't ever going to happen. Those days had gone. And maybe, if it meant she never again had to meet the likes of that arrogant prat t.i.tus, it was for the best.

It was while she was tearing up the M6 that yet another truth hit her. When it came to the children's sense of security, it appeared that the buck stopped with her. It had been her, last night, that Joel had wanted. Not her mother. Not her father. For the life of her she didn't know why this would be - especially given her parents' view that she scared the children by being too firm with them. Only a number of weeks ago and this realisation would have alarmed her, but today it didn't. It felt oddly rea.s.suring, as if she was finally getting something right. Being able to comfort and reason with Joel on the phone last night had been of paramount importance to her. It still was. She couldn't bear to think of him being so upset ever again.

And what of Carrie in all this? What on earth had been going through that girl's head to make her say such ghoulish things?

Harriet knew from experience that most children - usually older than Carrie - go through a phase of being fascinated by death. Certainly when she and Felicity had been teenagers it was a topic of conversation that had cropped up with morbid regularity, and invariably with Dominic and Miles. Felicity had always been adamant that she wanted to be cremated when she died; she hated the thought of being buried. Harriet could remember one conversation in particular on the subject. It had taken place during late summer, the year Dominic had been offered a place at Cambridge. They'd been lying on the flattened gra.s.s in the corner of a field, just behind the hawthorn hedge along the towpath of the ca.n.a.l. On their backs, staring up at the clouds and trying to spot Margaret Thatcher's face, which Miles swore blind was there in the sky, Felicity had said that she wanted her body to be donated to medical science and that what was left had to be cremated. 'I don't want worms wriggling in and out of my eye sockets and centipedes crawling up my nose,' she'd explained, just a little too graphically.

Rolling onto his side and running his hand over Felicity's stomach then letting it linger on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Dominic had said, 'I've got a better idea: why don't you donate your body to me to research.' It had always amazed Harriet that Felicity could let Dominic touch her like that. It upset her because she knew he was only doing it to annoy his brother - Miles had always had a bit of a crush on Felicity.

'What's wrong with what we do?' Felicity said to Harriet when she tackled her about it one day. 'Dominic knows I like it when he touches me. It doesn't mean anything.'

'But it drives Miles mad, and that's the real reason Dominic does it.'

'Miles knows better than to be upset by anything his brother does.'

It wasn't often that Harriet questioned her sister's judgement, but in that instance she did. Privately, she thought Miles minded a lot of things, especially the way Dominic would treat people. On one memorable outing to a club in Manchester, when Dominic was home from Cambridge for Easter, he had really excelled himself. Even Felicity, his constant champion, was cross with him. As a foursome, they were used to people staring at them when they went out, mostly because Dominic was so strikingly good-looking. With his black hair swept back from his broad forehead, his piercingly blue eyes and his easy nonchalance he had an aura of glamour that attracted attention wherever he went. On that particular night he was attracting the normal number of looks and stares, and after several drinks he suddenly announced that he was going to make someone's night. 'And it's that girl there,' he said, indicating the most under-dressed over-permed, and possibly ugliest girl in the club. To their surprise, he sauntered over to where she was standing and started chatting to her. The girl's friends drew close, clearly impressed.

'What the h.e.l.l's he up to now?' muttered Miles. Minutes pa.s.sed, then Dominic joined them where they'd been queuing for a drink. Leaning against the bar, he drained the remains of his Jack Daniel's and smiled. Intrigued, they then watched the girl come towards him. She tapped Dominic on the shoulder. 'Are you ready for that dance now?' she said.

Dominic swung round and said, 'Good G.o.d, you didn't think I was serious, did you? That I'd willingly dance with a fat cow like you? Why don't you try my brother; he's much more your type. Not so choosy either.'

It was like watching a balloon being popped. The girl burst into tears and fled.

It was one of the cruellest things Harriet had ever witnessed. Miles was so furious with Dominic that he dragged him outside, pushed him up against a wall and punched him hard. A fight broke out between them and only when a bouncer intervened did they pull apart. For days afterwards, Harriet and Felicity refused to speak to Dominic. In the end, in a typically over-the-top gesture, he stood beneath their bedroom windows late one night and read out a letter of apology. 'For the love of G.o.d, tell the b.l.o.o.d.y stupid fool that you've forgiven him,' Dad had said, as lights up and down Maple Drive switched on and windows were opened and pointedly banged shut, 'or we'll never get any sleep.'

That was Dominic all over. A clever, self-obsessed man who ruthlessly trampled others underfoot for his own pleasure and saw it as his right to be forgiven, no matter what the offence. On that occasion, Harriet and her sister let him stew for a further three days.

In danger of dozing off at the wheel - she'd only had three hours' sleep - Harriet stopped at Stafford Services. She bought a newspaper, a cup of coffee and a slice of toast. Half an hour later, feeling suitably revived, she went back out to the car park, ready for the rest of her journey home. But when she saw her car, she stopped in her tracks. The driver's window was smashed and the alarm was screeching. A panicky first glance told her that her laptop had been stolen.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Carrie knew she was in big trouble. Grandma and Granddad had calmed down, but Harriet would be home soon and then she'd really get it. She just hoped that when Harriet started shouting at her she'd remember to tilt her head back and stare at the ceiling so that it was impossible for any tears to spill out. She'd learned to do this (and to blink a lot) when Mummy and Daddy had died - and everyone kept asking if she was okay.

It felt like for ever since they'd died. Sometimes she had trouble remembering what they looked like. Part of her thought it might be easier to forget them, but then she'd suddenly think of something nice, like her birthday, when she'd unwrapped their presents and found the best one of all: Poppy. Poppy was an enormous fluffy polar bear and lying on the bed with her arms wrapped around her, Carrie suddenly wished that it was Mum she was cuddling. Mum had been nice to cuddle up to. She'd smelled nice and she always knew what to say or do to make her and Joel smile when they were upset. She was better at that than Dad. But then Dad was good at making them laugh; he'd tickle them or tell them jokes that didn't make sense. If only Mum and Dad were here now, they'd cheer her up. She hugged Poppy tightly. Harriet was going to be so cross. She reminded Carrie of Professor Snape sometimes, always scowling and looking serious. But then, just when you thought she was about to tell you off or be cross about something, she'd surprise you. Like that time in the car when she'd used that word Mummy said they weren't to say and had laughed her head off.