It was time to set things right.
Harriet didn’t want to tell her mother what had happened at the lake. She tried to slip quietly into her room, but her mum heard the rustling in the hallway and stepped out from the kitchen.
“What’s wrong? You look dreadful.” Her mum clutched her hands to her chest, eyes wide with concern.
“It’s fine. Just swam too long, that’s all.” Harriet brushed past her and shut herself in her room.
The next day, Edward came by to check on her.
“Why would she be feeling poorly?” her mum asked, puzzled.
“Well, after nearly drowning yesterday, I thought—” Edward began, oblivious.
“Don’t exaggerate. I just swallowed some water,” Harriet cut in, shooting him a pointed look.
“I, uh… came to ask you to the cinema,” Edward quickly corrected himself.
“Go on, Harriet. No sense moping indoors when the weather’s so fine,” her mum said, smiling at Edward with an air of deference.
Edward was the son of a well-to-do family, after all. His attention had kindled a hope in her mother—a future of comfort for her daughter.
From then on, Edward dropped by often, inviting her out—swimming, riding his motorbike, to cafés. Harriet wasn’t mad about him, but it flattered her that out of all the girls, he’d chosen her. Any of them would have given an arm to be seen with him.
That evening, her mother scolded her. “A lad like that, and you act as if you couldn’t care less? From a good family. You’d want for nothing! And the way he looks at you—steady, reliable. I’d trust him with my only daughter. If he proposes, don’t be a fool.”
“But I don’t love him, Mum,” Harriet tried.
“Don’t tell me a handsome lad like Edward doesn’t turn your head. I married for grand, passionate love—where’s that got me?”
When Edward proposed, Harriet said yes. Her mother’s words had done their work. In the wedding whirlwind, she sometimes felt like an actress in a play, none of it real. Her mother, meanwhile, was over the moon.
Harriet quickly realized Edward’s mother and elder sister disliked her. She wondered why they’d allowed the marriage at all. Perhaps Edward was his mother’s golden boy—too precious to lose over a petty objection.
They didn’t live in the grand family estate but in a flat left to Edward by his grandfather—a relief to Harriet. Her mother, she feared.
Years passed, but Harriet couldn’t conceive. Her mother-in-law blamed her, sending her to the finest doctors, who delivered grim news. Harriet was devastated, drowning in guilt.
Edward never openly reproached her, but she saw his pain. He withdrew, burying himself in work at his father’s firm—now his and his sister’s—since his father’s heart had given out three years prior. He visited his mother alone, which suited Harriet fine. She could only guess what was said about her.
She suspected Edward had other women, but with no proof, she stayed silent. He was always careful, guarding the family name from scandal.
Once, she tried returning to her mum’s.
“Don’t be daft,” her mother scoffed. “Handsome men attract attention—it doesn’t mean anything. Once you have a child, it’ll all sort itself out.” And she sent Harriet back.
So they played at happiness for five years.
When Harriet finally steeled herself to ask for a divorce, Edward’s mother died. Turned out she’d been ill for years—no one had seen fit to tell her.
Edward spent days arranging the funeral, returning home only to sleep.
***
Harriet woke but lingered in bed, listening to the shower run. Soon, she dozed again.
“Why aren’t you up?” Edward strode in, the scent of shower gel and aftershave clinging to him.
“Maybe I won’t go. Your mother never liked me. Thought I wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe she was right.” Harriet sat up, watching him.
“Right about what?” He tossed his robe aside and rifled through the wardrobe, indifferent to her gaze. She’d long grown immune to his charms.
“That I wasn’t cut from the same cloth. Edward, I get it, but no one will miss me.”
“The whole family will be there. You’re part of it, like it or not. Get dressed—we’ll be late.”
“I’ll never be part of your family. You know that. How can you be late to a funeral?” She sighed but rose.
The smell of fresh coffee hit her when she left the bathroom.
“Drink up and get ready.” He pushed a steaming mug toward her, eyeing his expensive wristwatch pointedly.
In the car, Edward played classical music, fitting the somber mood. Harriet pretended to doze, staring out the window. When they arrived at the grand house, several posh cars were already parked.
Just get through the day. One less enemy in the world.
“Go ahead. I’ll freshen up,” she said, fishing a mirror from her purse.
“Don’t take long. And lock the car.” Edward left without a backward glance.
She knew she’d be noticed briefly, then forgotten. Still, she touched up her makeup, tucking a handkerchief in her sleeve for decorum. She wouldn’t cry.
Outside, she spotted old Mrs. Clarkson from down the lane—Harriet was surprised she was still alive. Fifteen years ago, her husband and son had died in a crash, leaving her odd, almost mad.
“Hello,” Harriet said as the woman neared.
Mrs. Clarkson stopped, peering at her.
“I’m Harriet, Edward’s—”
“Not blind yet, nor senile. Here for the funeral?” She nodded toward the house.
“Yes.” Harriet glanced at the windows. Had the curtain twitched?
“Married the wrong one, girl. Fix your mistake. Do that, and your children will come.”
Harriet froze. “What mistake? What do you mean?”
But Mrs. Clarkson walked away without turning.
Inside, Edward was talking to a stranger in the hall. No one paid Harriet any mind.
***
Years ago, a friend had dragged her to the lake with a group. The lads drank beer; the girls sunbathed, sneaking glances—mostly at Edward.
Her friend whispered that Megan had been chasing him for ages.
“Fancy a swim?” Her friend dashed to the water. Harriet and Megan followed reluctantly.
“Bet you can’t swim across,” Megan taunted.
Harriet took the bait. Midway, something brushed her leg. Too deep for weeds. Again—something pressed against her.
Local lore said a drowned girl haunted the lake, dragging swimmers under. Harriet thrashed, choking on water—then darkness.
She woke onshore, Edward crouched over her, all concern. Megan smirked from a distance.
He drove her home on his motorbike…
***
At the cemetery, Harriet stood apart, studying relatives she’d never met. When the speeches ended, Edward escorted his weeping sister to the cars.
Harriet lingered, then hitched a ride with distant relatives. Passing a chemist, she asked to stop.
“My head’s splitting. Don’t wait—I’ll walk.” She bolted before they could argue.
Alone, she checked her pockets—no purse, no money. She’d have to endure the wake.
“Harriet?”
She turned. A man leaned from a car window—Daniel Bowen.
“No recognition? We used to run in the same crowd.”
Harriet stared. Daniel had been the quiet one, overlooked. Now he was striking, polished.
“Need a lift? Not heading to the Wilsons’?”
“Home, please.” She gave her address.
“Family never took to you, did they?”
Harriet frowned.
“Edward can’t have children. Had an illness as a boy. His mother covered it up.”
Harriet gaped. “The doctors said—”
“Bought and paid for. Easier to blame you.”
She remembered Mrs. Clarkson’s words.
“Sorry to drop this on you,” Daniel said.
“It’s not just that. You saved me at the lake, didn’t you?”
His silence confirmed it.
“Why tell me now?”
“Edward’s been with Megan for years. His mother kept him from leaving you. Bad for the family image.”
Harriet sat stunned.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel murmured.
“No. You’re right on time.” She hurried inside, packing a bag.
Back at the car, Daniel asked, “Where to?”
“Anywhere but here.”
He grinned. “I know just the place.”
Harriet laughed, rolling down the window. The wind whipped her hair as she shouted, “Go on! I’m free!”
Daniel laughed too, eyes full of warmth.
