The Haunting of Harriet by Jennifer Button

this rule but said nothing to anyone. The following December Edward carried his wife over the threshold, saying: “Welcome to our new house.”
    To which she had replied: “Home, darling. This is our home.”

    Liz shook herself back to reality. This was her home but tonight it was full of guests who deserved her total attention. Fortunately no one other than Edward had been aware of Liz’s funny five minutes. The rest of the group were too intent on talking about the fireworks. Liz held her husband’s arm and kissed his cheek.
    Harriet felt a pang of jealousy. This was the first time in her long existence that she had been able to share her thoughts, feelings and needs with anyone and now she was being ignored. But she realized it would not do to overwhelm her new friend with too much gushing attention. It was a new beginning and she too tingled with a renewed sense of purpose. All she needed to concentrate on was the wonderful fact that she had a family again. This time it would work out. It had to.
    Meanwhile the neighbours were making their various ways home. The Circus was retreating to the house, where the warm glow of a log fire and candlelight beckoned through the French windows and out across the lawn. Liz had lingered behind, savouring the last of the night air. She pushed at the stray blonde lock with her fingers, willing it to stay in place. On letting go, the hair slid back; she secured it firmly with her ivory comb. She began to run, overcome by a desperate need to see her children. A sense of dread swept over her. An unaccountable ache lay in her belly. The twins were so vulnerable, so dependent on her; what if she failed in her duty to protect them? Then she stopped. She stood very still. The ache and the cold were replaced by the warmth of a hug and a kiss on her cheek. She turned to say thank you but she was alone. The others were already at the house.

    Edward and David were the first to enter the lounge. The two had been friends since school but were as different as chalk and cheese. Being a lecturer in English at a modest college David seldom had occasion to wear a dinner suit and took little interest in fashion. So, pleasantly surprised on catching his reflection in the large mirror above the fireplace, he was glad he had gone to the bother of dressing up. Edward was just thinking his mate’s suit had seen better days when David spoke. “That was something else, like setting fire to a wad of fivers!”
    David had often wondered at Edward’s profligate attitude to money. He found the money market boring and, to be frank, downright immoral. Obviously it paid better than academia but did it merit the sort of rewards Edward was currently reaping? No doubt Edward was good at his job, whatever that was. The commodity market had proved a real money-spinner in his hands. Was that because they were a safe pair of hands or dextrous to the point of sleight? David did not possess a jealous bone in his body so was merely stating fact when he said: “I could no more afford this lot than fly out the window… unless, of course, I chuck it all in and write a bestseller.” He chuckled at the thought but inside there was a desperate itch to scratch.
    Edward had been poking the fire. He threw on another log and watched flames lick around it, giving off a satisfying sizzle. His success in the money market was never a source of embarrassment for him. He took pleasure in sharing his good fortune with his friends, but his insensitivity meant that it never occurred to him this might be construed as showing off.
    “You should. God knows you’ve been threatening to for long enough. And don’t forget your friends when the film rights roll in. I’ve just been bloody lucky, mate; and let’s face it, you can’t take it with you, Dave, so enjoy.” He refilled their whisky glasses and raised his. “Here’s to you, old friend, Happy New Year. The twenty-first century! Who’d have thought it!” Then as a flippant