Page 37 of The Mistake

‘Let’s have a photo of all of you together,’ Stu calls out. ‘Em’s last birthday at home.’ Pete wants to shake his head at that, wanting to say that he always wants Emily to celebrate at home, that he doesn’t want anything to ever change, but instead he just reaches out to put an arm around Natalie’s shoulder. She frowns, looking down at where his hand rests on her shoulder, and then steps away, placing Emily beside him, then Zadie, then herself, coming to stand on the edges.

‘Pete, if you just want to do a little TikTok dance for us, we know how you love a knees-up when you’ve had a drink,’ Stu says, waving the phone in his direction. ‘I reckon I can get you to go viral.’ Emily groans as the rest of the guests laugh, but Natalie stays poker-faced.

‘Say big birthday bollocks!’ Stu shouts as Mari nudges his arm and old Mrs Noyce sucks in a shocked breath. Zadie laughs, and Stu presses the button on his phone, immortalising the moment forever. As Emily claps and reaches for the kitchen knife to start cutting up the cake, Pete watches Natalie as she steps to one side, visibly distancing herself from them all, and his heart turns over.

Emily hands out slices of cake, rich buttercream oozing between the layers of vanilla sponge, and as Stu reaches the table, he holds out the phone.

‘Lovely pic, don’t you reckon? I could probably be a professional photographer.’

‘In your dreams, Uncle Stu,’ Emily laughs.

Pete leans in and takes in the photo. Emily looks radiant, despite her earlier tears, and Pete is half glad he threw Jake out when he did. Zadie grins up at the camera, a smudge of dirt on her cheek and that bright gap in her teeth all you can see as she smiles widely. Pete is also smiling, and he thinks as he looks at the photo that you could almost think they were a happy family. Almost think there is nothing wrong, until he looks at Natalie in the picture. Her face is oddly blank, her dark eyes curiously vacant.

‘Send me that photo, Uncle Stu,’ Emily says, ‘I want to put it on my story.’ Stu AirDrops it to her phone, but as soon as Emily sees it, she wrinkles her nose.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ Pete asks, expecting her to say that her hair looks shit, or the lighting isn’t right.

‘It’s Erin,’ Emily says. ‘She’s not in the photograph. It’s not really a family photo without her, is it?’

Pete hadn’t even thought about Erin as Stu snapped the picture, and he feels a greasy slick of shame wash over him. ‘Well, no, I suppose not.’

‘Is she still sleeping?’ Emily asks. ‘I know Mum won’t want to get her up because it is late, but she’s been asleep for a while, so she’s bound to be getting up for a bottle soon.’ The unspoken words hang in the air –Erin never sleeps.

Pete realises Erin has been asleep for a while – the baby monitor hasn’t flickered to life for at least an hour or so, and she will be due a bottle shortly. He glances in Natalie’s direction, as she accepts a glass of white wine from Mari with that same blank expression on her face. No, she definitely isn’t herself, and Pete doesn’t think it’s just the shock of finding out what he’s done.

‘Zade?’ Pete calls out to his youngest daughter, who – despite allegedly feeling sick – is hovering at the edge of the table in the hopes of snagging a second slice of cake. ‘Do me and your mum a favour, would you? Will you go upstairs and check on Erin, see if she’s still asleep? Emily wants to have a photo taken of all of us together.’

‘I’m just having cake,’ Zadie grumbles. ‘I don’t want to. She’ll be asleep anyway.’ There is that familiar ominous whine to her voice, and Emily rolls her eyes good-naturedly, handing her another plate of cake.

‘Don’t blame me if you puke,’ Emily says, turning to pass the cake knife to Pete. ‘Here you go, Dad, you finish slicing the cake and I’ll go and get Erin. If she is awake Zadie can’t carry her downstairs anyway.’

‘Thanks, love.’ Pete watches Emily hurry across the grass towards the house, an ache in his heart as he berates himself again for throwing everything away for nothing.

Natalie stands at the other end of the table, and Pete picks up a paper plate with a slice of cake and makes his way towards her. As he reaches her, she looks up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter in his chest. Her face is expressionless, and Pete has the horrifying sensation that what he’s done might have just pushed her over the edge – might be the thing that breaks his beautiful, funny, fearless wife. Without thinking he reaches for her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and breathing in the scent ofher face lotion, along with the faint tang of old wine, and she stiffens before pulling away.

‘Mum? Mum!’ At the sound of her name, Natalie turns her head, shaking it slightly as if she can’t quite focus. ‘Dad!’

Emily’s voice is laced with panic and something snakes down Pete’s spine – a primal fear that raises gooseflesh on his arms. ‘Dad, it’s Erin. She’s not in her cot. She’s not there. She’s notanywhere.’

The Mistake

Pete

Pete stumbles over the gnarled roots of the old oak trees making up over half the woodland, his breath coming loud and ragged in his ears. When Emily had first come down and told him Erin wasn’t in her cot, his initial instinct had been to laugh in disbelief, then annoyance had taken over. Had Emily checked properly? How could Erin not be there? But when he’d stood over the empty cot in the darkened bedroom, confusion had muddled his thoughts, causing something unpleasant to flutter in his stomach as he gripped the edge of the cot, his knuckles white.

‘Dad? I swear I checked, she’s not there.’ Emily had followed him up the stairs, her face white as she peered over his shoulder.

‘Go downstairs,’ he’d barked. ‘Stay with your mother. No, ask Stu. Ask Stu, Mari, anyone downstairs if they’ve seen Erin.’ He’d pushed past Emily and hurried towards his and Natalie’s bedroom.Had Natalie taken Erin to their bed to lie down with her? She’d done that before.But when he’d pushed open the bedroom door the room was empty, the imprint of Natalie’s body still etched on the duvet, the press of her head ingrained on his pillow, and something cold and icy had enveloped him.

Now, he runs through the woods, half-blind in the darkness that seems to have fallen like a curtain, and half-drunk on fear as his feet sink into the damp mulchy leaves, sweat prickling at the nape of his neck. ‘Erin!’

‘Pete, wait a minute.’ Stu appears beside him, frantic and sweaty – no sign of the tipsy Stu who had laughed and taken photographs just a short while earlier. ‘Come back to the house, we’ll call the police.’ He reaches out and grabs Pete’s arm.

‘Go back inside, Stu,’ Pete says, shrugging free and not slowinghis pace, his eyes frantically scanning the trees for something – anything – that will point to where his baby is. ‘Wait with Nat, please, someone needs to be with her. I can’t … I have to look for Erin.’ He doesn’t look at Stu, only aware that he’s not beside him any more when he slows, his chest straining.

Pete bends, sucking in a breath and cursing the fact that he hasn’t been to the gym once this year, regretting the cigarettes he smoked earlier. He is aware now of others in the woods, of thecrack and rustle of twigs and leaves underfoot as guests fromthe party join in the search. Stu’s voice carries on the fresh night air, his best friend directing the other searchers, trying to take control of a situation that has already spiralled. Pete feels helpless, a desperation to find Erin clawing at his insides. Resting his hands on his thighs, he pulls in sharp, ragged breaths that make his chest ache. ‘Erin!’ He calls for her, even though he knows she can’t respond. From the garden comes the sound of his daughter’s name being shouted by multiple voices, followed by the keening tones of someone crying. Emily, he thinks; it sounds like Emily. For a moment his blood runs cold; he thinks maybe Erin’s been found and it isn’t good news, but then Emily takes up the mantle, her voice raw as she calls her little sister’s name. After a moment he can breathe despite the rawness in his chest, and he takes off again, his feet sliding on the wet forest floor. The air is damp and chilly now the sun has disappeared, and he can’t help but wonder what Erin was wearing. Did Natalie put her down in the little T-shirt and leggings she wore to the party? Or did she change her into something warmer, something cosy to sleep in, thinking that was her down for the night? The sky overhead is mostly clear, prickled with stars, and all he can think is that if she’s out here in that tiny little T-shirt, she’ll freeze.

Ploughing on through the trees, peering at the clusters of bushes lining the wooded trail, Pete knows his thoughts aren’t rational, but panic floods his mouth with a sharp metallic taste, and he can’t think straight. When he’d first seen the empty cothe’d thought maybe Natalie had already been in to pick her up, even though something in the back of his mind was telling him it wasn’t possible – that Natalie had been with him; then he thought perhaps one of the guests had heard her crying and gone in to bring her downstairs. When a sweep of the rest of the house and garden had shown no sign of Erin, Pete had glanced out of the window at the woods, an almost tangible sense of foreboding clutching at his gut. With every haunted legend he’d heard about the woods ringing in his ears, he’d sprinted for the rusty bolt on the back gate, shoving his way through the rickety fence out into the woods, the thought that someone had taken her,musthave taken her, beating like a pulse in his mind.

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