Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



It was the screeching call of an alarm that woke him.

At first Magnus thought he was back in the prison cell, lying above Jan, a fellow burglar, and that it was the brutal early morning wake-up call.

Beep beep beep.

Magnus tossed and turned in Jack’s bed. It was warm. He didn’t want to get up.

‘Do you want a drink?’ he heard a woman’s voice say.

Magnus sat upright in the pitch black.

Where was he? He put out a hand and felt the edges of a small bed.

A light came on downstairs in the hall, illuminating a corner of the Arsenal poster beside his head through a crack in the door.

The boy’s room!

He’d fallen asleep.

‘Have you got a whisky, by any chance?’ he heard a man say in a Scottish voice.

Magnus froze. The skinny woman Kate was downstairs and not alone.

It felt so strange to see Jago in her house.

Kate dropped her bag on the kitchen table, horribly self-conscious of everything she saw as she looked around. Jack’s football boots by the door, the pile of ironing in the kitchen, the photo Hugo had taken of Jack watching her plane, on the wall. She saw Jago look at it.

‘Great picture. Great house, Kate.’ He turned around. ‘It’s beautiful.’

She took off her coat. ‘Thanks.’

What would happen if Jago became part of her life? she thought, turning to find two glasses in the kitchen cupboard. Would she have to remove the photos of Hugo? Take away his Georgian furniture? His CDs? How would Jack even start to understand?

As if he sensed she was lost in thought, Jago came up behind her. She felt his hands on her shoulders.

He leaned his face on her shoulder and inhaled deeply.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ he said.

She paused with her hands in mid-air. ‘Hmm?’

‘I saw Marla in London on Wednesday night.’

Kate tensed. No, please, she thought.

‘She came on the Eurostar from Paris, and I met her in a bar at Waterloo.’

Jago stroked Kate’s shoulder. ‘She was in a state, talking about getting back together again and . . .’

He turned Kate round in his arms. She kept her eyes on his chest, unable to look into his eyes in case what she dreaded was present there. ‘And I told her that I was seeing someone. And that I wouldn’t be coming to North Carolina in August now, and I’d get a mate at the university to pick up my stuff from hers and get it shipped back here.’

Kate waited to be sure.

‘Then she got the late train back to Paris.’

Jago was hers.

‘Was that OK?’ he said, peering down at her. ‘To say that? That I’m seeing someone?’

Kate couldn’t help it. She fell into him against the wall, knowing now that she was ready.

It had gone silent downstairs now.

Magnus gave it another second, then turned around in the dark. How had this happened? He scrabbled out of the bed, noticing too late that the boy’s nightlight was on a timer switch that had turned it off while he slept. In the dark, he tried to throw the cover over the bed as he’d found it.

Turning, Magnus peered at the other end of the bedroom. There was only one thin slice of light on the wall coming through the almost-shut bedroom door. Using that as a compass point, he tiptoed sleepily towards where the wardrobe door should be.

His toe touched something springy.

Too late, he realized he was heading thirty degrees in the wrong direction.

He withdrew his toe quickly, and for a moment, thought he’d got away with it.

Then, in front of his nose, a breeze blew by, then the most almighty crash rang through the house.

Shit.

‘Jesus!’ Kate yelled, pulling back from Jago. The crash upstairs was ten times louder than the thud the other day. She looked up, startled. ‘Oh my God, Jago. There’s someone in the house. Please – I am not imagining this.’

Jago looked up. He took her shoulders.

‘Kate, listen. Don’t panic. Where was it? Upstairs?’

He appeared unruffled, just as Hugo would have. ‘At the front. In Jack’s room, I think. The big bedroom at the front.’

‘OK, stay here and I’ll go up . . .’ he said, starting to walk out of the kitchen.

‘No!’ Kate yelled. ‘No, Jago.’

Tears came into her eyes and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t fight them. She couldn’t let Jago go up there. It was all too much after Highgate tonight, and those painful memories of Hugo. ‘You can’t.’

He took her hands. ‘Kate, it’s OK. I’m just going for a look. If there’s someone up there, they’ll be as frightened as we are, and make a run for it. I can handle myself, OK?’

The memory of Hugo lying on the floorboards, blood soaking into them, rushed into her mind.

‘No, Jago. Just stay here and call the police.’

He hesitated. ‘OK, I tell you what. Get the phone, ring 99 – then if there is someone up there, which I’m sure there isn’t, I’ll shout, then dial the third nine, OK?’

‘Please . . .’ she felt the tears running down her face.

‘Kate! Don’t worry. I’m here now.’

He put her hands down by her sides, kissed her, then walked off through the dining room, picking up Jack’s tennis racket from the hall as he went.

‘The front bedroom?’ Magnus heard the Scottish man shout, followed by his step on the stairs.

Desperately, Magnus put out his hand in the dark, found the old chimney breast beside the wardrobe and stumbled across the floor. Luckily, the doors were still open. He lay down on his stomach and aimed his feet at the hole behind him in the wall. Pushing hard with his long arms, he propelled himself backwards. He managed to get his calves through into next door, then, with another big push, his thighs.

The Scottish man was coming, up the stairs fast: thump, thump, thump. And the woman?

Magnus was sweating now, trying to force the rest of his body through the gap.

He went for one last push but something stopped him. Panicking, he moved his stomach off the ground. A jutting piece of shelf bracket had caught on his shirt to the right. Shit, shit, shit. He was going to ruin everything. He wriggled desperately to free himself.

The Scottish man’s footsteps reached Jack’s bedroom door.

Magnus’s body was three-quarters through now; just his head and shoulders still protruded.

The Scottish man flung open the door. In the silhouette from the hall light, Magnus saw a tennis racket dangling close to the ground, twisting around. With one last push, Magnus forced himself backwards in the darkness, feeling the nail rip through his T-shirt and along the skin of his back. He gritted his teeth against the pain, looking out to see if the woman was running up the stairs too. There was a click and light flooded the room. Magnus looked up carefully, his chin on the ground, and saw a pair of man’s boots walking around the boy’s bedroom, presumably taking in the rumpled bed and the fallen CDs from the rack that Magnus now realized he’d knocked over.

The feet went to the right, then the left. They turned towards the wardrobe.

Magnus gulped, trying to listen to hear if the woman was coming too.

Was he visible with the light on, even down here on the ground? Should he come out? Put his hands up?

The walking boots moved slowly, edging closer towards where his head was stuck.

They stopped.

Right above where he was lying, he heard the Scottish man breathing, slow and deep.

From here Magnus knew his head must be sticking out an inch at least.

Magnus waited, waiting for the woman’s feet to appear in front of his eyes too. For the screaming to start as she looked into the open wardrobe and saw the tuft of his hair sticking out from under the bottom shelf.

‘Kate!’ A Scottish voice suddenly shouted right above him. There was a faint reply from what Magnus now realized was downstairs. What was he going to say?

‘You’re OK,’ the Scottish man shouted. ‘A CD rack just toppled over. It was probably just a draught when we slammed the front door.’

And with that Magnus saw the tennis racket right in front of him move swiftly backwards. Too late he saw the tennis ball lying in front of the wardrobe doors, where it must have rolled after being dislodged by the falling CD rack. With just a second’s warning he shut his eyes tight, as the Scottish man swung the racket forwards, whacking the ball into the cupboard with such force that it smacked into Magnus’s jaw and knocked his glasses sideways. His mouth fell open with the impact and he had to stop himself yelling.

‘Nope, nothing here,’ the Scottish man shouted, slamming the wardrobe doors behind the ball, so hard that Magnus felt the shelf vibrate above his head.

Darkness fell.

Magnus lay in the dark. ‘Bastard,’ he snivelled to himself, tasting blood in his mouth.

Kate stalked back and forwards around the kitchen, waiting for Jago to come down.

How the hell had a draught knocked over Jack’s CD rack?

The feeling of unease had soaked back into her bones, as it so often did in this house. Maybe they should move. Buy a new-build flat in the centre of town without these creaky old doors and draughty windows. Unsettled, her mind flew to Jack, lying outside in the dark.

Kate pulled out her phone and started to text, not caring what Gill or Jack’s friends thought about it. He’d probably be asleep anyway.

how are you? ok?

His answer flew back.

no. bit scared

She stared. Oh God. She looked at the clock. It was 11.30 p.m.

why?

don’t know

want me to come and get you? i’m home

His response brought a lump to her throat.

yes but don’t because they’ll laugh at me

Kate heard Jago on the landing upstairs, and her body, newly awakened, responded with a shiver. It was betraying her, begging her to make Jago stay tonight.

She just hoped he’d understand.

jack, i’m coming now. i’m going to sit outside in the car

i thought you were with your friend

you are more important than my friends jack – than anybody

Jago started down the stairs.

Jack’s next text brought more tears to Kate’s eyes.

i’m tired of being scared mum

oh i’m sorry jack. we’ll sort it out together i promise

Jago walked towards her along the hall, that easy smile on his face.

She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I just panicked.’

‘Is this the kind of thing you were telling me about?’

She nodded. ‘I just hear things all the time here.’

‘Well, it’s an old house. Old houses make noises. The floor’s quite uneven in Jack’s room, I noticed. Do you want me to fix that catch on the wardrobe, by the way? It looked loose.’

Kate sighed and took his hand, hoping he’d understand.

‘Jago, you don’t know how much I want you to be here tonight, but I’m so sorry.’ She held out her phone. ‘I have to go. It’s Jack.’

If he was disappointed he didn’t show it. ‘Oh, God, of course. Don’t worry. We’re not in a hurry here, are we?’

‘Hmm . . .’ she groaned playfully, the tone betraying that she wanted nothing more right now than for him to stay.

He kissed her head. They stood there for a second, then she pulled back.

‘Right,’ she said, grabbing her stuff. Jago picked up his coat and they headed together down the hall as she locked up behind them.

‘Next weekend, I promise,’ Kate said on the doorstep, turning on the alarm. ‘Jack will be with his grandparents. And we will get there.’

‘I know, and it’ll be worth the wait, eh?’ Jago said, kissing her ear, as he put his arm round her and walked her to the car.

She drove round the corner to Gill’s at 11.45 p.m., fighting the urge to race after Jago, and parked in a space outside. Too late, she realized she should have brought a sleeping bag.

Crossly, she stared up at the dark house. Gill was probably snoozing away in there, stoned out of her tree, while Jack lay terrified outside.

She lifted her phone and texted.

i’m outside in the car

thanks mum. sorry

don’t say sorry. i should have realized you were scared. i’m sorry. try to sleep and i’ll stay here till the morning right outside

night mum

night x

Kate pushed back in her seat, thinking about her crazy night with Jago.

An unpleasant image of the au pairs in the woods came back to her. Where were those girls now? At home, crying, unable to sleep? Talking to their own mums tearfully on the phone, being comforted.

Jesus – what had she done?

Kate felt the cold creep into her body and allowed it to.

She deserved every freezing minute she was going to experience tonight in this car.

The bullied became the bully – but only if they let themselves.

Tonight she’d learned that’s not who she was, and she needed to tell Jago that.





The child watched Mother screaming, then turned as a new sound started.

A piece of the red tiled roof started to fall forwards.

Father looked as if he was going to be sick. He crouched to his knees and hung his head between them.

The child willed Mother to go to Father. To touch him on the shoulder gently, like she used to do before the snake house. To rub his hair and tell him it was only a house. Only money. Money they didn’t even have till Grandma died and gave it to her. They were happy before, weren’t they?

Dad had only tried to do something nice by buying it for them.

But Mother didn’t move. She took her hands away from her eyes.

As the bricks continued to tumble off the side of the house, now in ones and twos, Father kept his head down, as if he were trying to work out how to use his car jack to put all the pieces of the wall back together again.

Mother fixed her eyes on him.

‘Mother!’ the child whispered, but her eyes didn’t move. Her eyes were the eyes of someone else now.

Then she leaned down, without removing her glare from the back of Father’s head, and scrabbled about.

When the child turned round, Mother was holding a chunk of bricks in her hand.

The child tried to shout, to warn Father.

But nothing came out.