Right then, love, this is your new bedroom. Make yourself at home.
Harriet took a tentative step forward. The bed was swathed in an absurdly fluffy duvet, a writing desk held a laptop, and a wardrobe with mirrored doors stood beside a rectangular rug sporting a geometric pattern. Everything was sleek, pricey, and nothing like her old cramped space.
Her father, Simon, lugged two hefty suitcases full of Harriets belongings to the wardrobe and set them down.
Can you sort it yourself? he asked.
Of course she could! She didnt expect him to asknor did she think Claire, the stepmum, would intervene.
Claire breezed in carrying a potted plant with long, narrow leaves, plopped it on the windowsill and said, Thought itd look brilliant here. She flashed a friendly smile straight at Harriet, who stood glum and silent.
Lets go, Simon, Harriet said, slipping a hand onto her fathers shoulder and guiding him toward the door. Get settled, she whispered, gently pulling the door shut behind her.
Get settled, Harriet repeated in her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her. The room felt cold and unwelcoming. She collapsed onto the bed, turned her back to the wall, curled up into a ball hugging her knees, and shut her eyes.
Mother, mother! Why? We were always together and now youve left me. Why didnt you go straight to the hospital? Why let it go this far? she imagined herself shouting.
For ten years Harriet had been a proper mummys girl. Since her mothers death shed scarcely seen Simon, their evenings now reduced to the occasional television binge with a cuppa and a slice of mums cakememories that seemed to fade as she was forced to live with strangers. Simon never called her by name; daughter sounded bizarre, and even saying dad felt foreign.
She drifted to thoughts of Simons new wife. In Harriets head, rich men after a divorce always married runway models, not someone like Claireshort, bobbed hair, a nononsense legal firm owner, far more businesslike than her mother ever was. Their house used to smell of fresh pies and roast, but lately Claire ordered takeaway.
Did she decorate this place for me? Most likelySimon wouldnt have. Harriet mused, running a hand over the soft, longpile duvet shed never known before.
At her new school Harriet quickly made friends, mostly because of Simons money and her striking looks. The girls decided it was easier to be mates than rivals. Previously Harriets only close confidante had been her mum, but now the new crowd welcomed her, and boys started paying her attention, which thrilled her in a secret, guilty way.
At first she truly felt like a halforphan, forced to live with an unloving dad and a chilly stepmum. She liked the role and deliberately kept up the image. She didnt hear a classmate whisper to the boys, Whys she badmouthing her stepmum? My mums friend works for her and says shes a decent lady.
When Harriet finally trudged home late one night, Simon said, I know you love hanging out with friends, so I didnt call. But try not to be out that late again. Deal? She gave no reply and slipped into her room.
The next time she and her friends planned a night out, she switched her phone off. At home Simons face warned of trouble.
Do it again and Ill take action, he warned.
Harriet shot him a sharp, angry glance and marched into her room, where Claire was perched on the bed. She sprang up the moment Harriet entered.
Wanted to talk, Claire said.
Harriet stayed silent, her expression screaming, What do you want now? Claire, flustered, stammered, Simons worried about you.
Im almost sixteen! Harriet snapped. Still, she started coming home on time to keep Simon happy. She had a birthday plan with friends, a flat promised by an older brother of one of them, and a boyfriend she fancied.
One evening Simon announced, Claire booked a table for tomorrow. Well celebrate your birthday. You can invite your friends if you like.
What? A restaurant with you lot? I was going to party with my mates! Harriet protested.
And when were you planning to tell us? Simon asked.
I dont knowmaybe tomorrow, she muttered.
So on the day itself? Fine. If you want your friends, you can have them over at ours, Claire will sort the food. The thought of a joint familystyle birthday made Harriets stomach drop. All the arrangements were already in placeMaxs brother would supply the booze, the flat was ready. She fled to school, thinking shed devise something.
Later, in the hallway, a furious Simon loomed over Harriet.
What do you think youre doing? he roared, catching the smell of alcohol and cigarettes on her.
He lunged, about to strike her cheek.
Simon! shouted Claire from behind. Harriet looked up to see Claires terrified eyes and smudged mascarafresh tears.
Claire gently pushed Simon back, grabbed Harriets shoulders, and led her to a spare room.
Did anyone hurt you? Did something happen? she asked softly.
No, all good, Harriet shook her head.
Ill talk to Simon. How can I help? Claire whispered.
Bring me a drink, Harriet murmured. Claire told her husband, who hovered anxiously at the door, that everything was fine. When Claire returned, Harriet was already fast asleep, still dressed.
Did you smell the booze? Simon snarled as Claire tried to discuss Harriets situation with him.
Of course. Remember when you were sixteen? he replied dryly.
Exactly. Shes just a girl, Claire retorted. Shes bright, but her friends mean more to her now than we do. Give her time. Her life changed in an instant; maybe that helps her cope.
Coping with what? She has everythingfood, clothes, a roof. Ill fulfill any whim she has! Simon snapped.
Simon! Dont play the fool! Shes lost her mother. All she needs now is love and attention, and shes finding it among her friends. Something happened todaymaybe they argued?
I dont know. I never imagined itd be this hard, Simon sighed.
Claire, suddenly cheerful, hugged him and kissed his forehead. Well manage together.
The next morning Claire entered Harriets room. Harriet was awake, eyes wide open.
How do you feel? Head still hurting? Claire asked, pulling back the curtains.
Here, she handed Harriet a glass of water. Harriet gulped it down greedily.
Why did you look after me yesterday? Claire asked.
Because I was sixteen too, Claire replied, smiling. Happy birthday, by the way.
Harriet stayed silent.
Do you hate me? Claire ventured.
Because of you, dad left, Harriet muttered.
You know thats not true. We met a year after he left, Claire said. Exactly! What if hed come back?
Claire sighed. Its never that simple, Harriet. People often cant reconnect after a split.
Why? Whats stopping them? Like, your mum was great! Harriet whined.
Your mum was wonderful! Claire tried to take Harriets hand, but she pulled away. Adult relationships are messy. Some work out, some dont, and theres rarely a single blame.
So whats my fault? He didnt even care about me! Harriet shouted.
Thats not true. He tried to keep you supplied, stayed updated on your life. Claire hesitated, remembering how Harriets mother had asked her exhusband not to get involved after they married Simon.
He loves you, just youre growing up fast. Claire placed her palm on Harriets shoulder, this time staying.
Does that mean if the bloke Ive been dating turns up at my birthday with another girl and dumps me, its not just his fault? Harriet asked.
Hmm. Think about it. Did he say anything else?
He called me highmaintenance.
See? Exactly.
In that moment Harriet longed for a warm hug, for someone to make her feel like a little girl again, to take away the knot in her chest from yesterdays betrayal. Claire seemed to sense it and pulled the crying teen close.
Harriet, I cant replace your mum, but Id love to be a friend. I fell in love at sixteen too. He was a year older, and turned out he was seeing someone else too.
What a bastard! What did you do?
We both dumped him.
And your fault?
I spent too much time on studies. They both burst into laughter, the tension easing like a sudden summer breeze.
Listen, Claire said, lets spend the day together. You go to school, I finish work, and well splash a bit of your dads cash on something fun. Deal?
Harriet managed a shy smile. All right! I talked to him yesterday. He said we could pick any gift. Off we go?
They chatted excitedly about shopping and the day ahead, oblivious to the screech of brakes that followed. The car lurched, wheels squealed, a harsh thump echoed, then a softer knock, and everything fell silent.
Dad! Dad, were in the hospital! a voice shouted.
Half an hour later Harriet spotted Simons silhouette at the end of the ward corridor and waved.
Harriet!
Simon rushed to her, cradling her shoulders, examining her from head to toe. He saw bruises on her face and arms.
Does it hurt? Oh God, Harriet, I was terrified
Its nothing, Dad, Im fine, she replied.
Simons eyes widened, his voice shaky. Wheres Claire?
Shes in another ward. The impact was from her side. Some idiot swooped in, but shes alive, Dad!
He pressed her close, trembling. Harriet leaned into his shoulder, ashamed. Im sorry about yesterday.
He stroked her back uncertainly. Dont worry about it. Lets forget it, alright?
Harriet nodded.
A doctor entered. Are you the father?
Yes, Simon said, stepping back. Whats wrong with her?
Severe bruising and shock. The airbag did its job. Shell be fine. Most importantly, the child is unharmed.
The child? Simon looked puzzled. What child?
Your daughter, the doctor said with a faint smile, then left.
Simon muttered under his breath, I cant see that my child isnt hurt.
He hugged Harriet again. Did you get the message about a new sibling?
Harriet rolled her eyes. What?
