Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR



The following Tuesday evening, as arranged, Richard arrived to pick up Jack.

Kate opened the door to find Helen there, too. She was perusing the hanging basket of flowers that she had bought for Kate and Jack last year. Luckily, Kate had just watered the bright pink pansies she tolerated to keep the peace.

‘Hi. Come in,’ she said cheerily for Jack’s sake.

Helen gave her a small smile, the coldness of their last encounter three weeks ago still present. In the hall, Kate saw Helen’s eyes reach upwards.

‘It’s gone, Helen,’ she said.

‘Some of Jack’s school things that he left,’ Helen said, holding out a plastic bag, as if she hadn’t heard her. The word ‘dear’ was noticeably absent. ‘I’ve washed them.’

Richard hung up their coats, still smiling, but analysing the situation with his busy eyes, as always.

‘There he is! Hello, darling!’ Helen said, wrapping Jack in her pastel-clad arms. ‘Enjoying half-term? Ready for your holiday?’

Kate watched Jack fall into his grandmother. She thought again of him in Highgate Woods, giggling, as she chased him. It would be her soon that he fell back into with the same ease. She was determined. They were on their way back to each other already. Since he had returned, shame-faced, from Gabe’s sleepover to find her waiting with dark bags under her eyes from a sleepless night in the car, she had seen a small but marked change in him. A softening. She caught him more than once, watching her with gentle eyes, and realized, with a lump in her throat, that he was touched about what she had done for him, grateful that she had helped him save face with his friends. That had been the hardest thing to deal with: that he felt the need to be grateful to her. That somewhere along the way, her little boy had just given up on having a mother who loved him more than she loved herself, and she’d been too preoccupied about keeping them both safe to reassure him that she would do anything for him.

Die for him.

Kate checked Jack’s bag. She just had to stay patient.

‘Looking forward to the seaside?’ Helen chirped.

He nodded, beaming.

‘Come and tell me about your sleepover, darling,’ Helen said, leading him into the kitchen to fetch his coat. ‘Sounds like you boys had a real adventure.’

Kate glanced at Jack, and to her joy he gave her a tiny, conspiratorial look.

In that second, she felt a little ownership return to her.

‘OK, darling,’ Richard boomed. ‘We’re heading down to Dorset tonight. Got the place till Friday, so – what, bring him back Sunday? Give you a chance to do some work?’

The doorbell rang behind him, and Richard turned without compunction and opened it.

It’s my house, it’s my door, Kate wanted to say, but didn’t.

Saskia stood there, with pink cheeks, looking as if she’d been running.

‘Oh, great, I was worried I’d missed you. I came to wave you off,’ she said, walking in behind Kate and waving at Jack in the kitchen.

The dreaded triumvirate. Jack was disappearing in front of her eyes into their fold.

‘Here’s his bag,’ Kate said, handing it to Richard.

Right then, she made a pledge to herself. This would be over soon. Next time she would announce to Richard and Helen that she was coming to Dorset with them, invited or not. They would start to follow her rules and respect them, whatever they were.

Jack and Helen returned from the kitchen.

‘Well, we might as well head off, folks, if you’re ready?’ Richard boomed.

Kate stood in front of Jack awkwardly, aware of their eyes on her. She gave him a casual hug, resisting the urge to squeeze him tight and tell him to be safe. ‘Have a good time. I’ll miss you.’

Saskia gave him one too.

‘Well, if they’re all heading off, do you fancy a drink, Kate? Or have you got to go to north Oxford to see that friend of yours?’

She gave Kate a meaningful look. Shit, Kate, realized. It was Tuesday evening.

‘No,’ she lied. ‘It’s, um, no – she’s on holiday.’

Saskia nodded. ‘So . . .?’

There was a lot of movement in the hall but Kate knew everyone was pausing to listen to her reply. They were lifting bags and opening doors, but their ears were pointing directly at her. Jack glanced up, hopeful.

He wanted her to go, Kate realized, wanted her to make things better with Aunt Sass.

‘There’s the new pub on Magdalen Road,’ she said, picking up her coat.

‘Great,’ Saskia said, barely able to hide her surprise, and they all left together.

The pub was packed when they arrived. At Saskia’s request, Kate went to find a table.

Saskia returned five minutes later with a bottle of wine.

‘We’re getting pissed,’ Saskia announced, sitting down. ‘How else are we going to get through this? How long’s it been since we went for a drink – three years?’

Kate raised her eyebrows and held out her glass, already dreading Saskia asking her about Jago.

‘So,’ Saskia said, with a challenging look on her face. ‘You’ve done it, haven’t you?’

Kate regarded her confused. ‘What?’

‘You know what. You’ve got this kind of sexy walk thing going on.’

She suddenly realized what Sass meant. It was the kind of sweetly guileless comment Sass would have made in the old days, and took Kate by such surprise that she laughed, and spat out her wine.

‘Actually, I haven’t!’

‘Really?’

Saskia was trying. She could see that. Kate smiled. ‘Not quite yet. Sass, it’s been five years since Hugo. And Jago’s just come out of a long relationship. I suppose it’ll happen when we’re both ready.’

Saskia took a sip of wine. ‘This weekend?’

Kate made a face at her. ‘Stop it.’

Sass sighed. ‘But is it definitely over? Him and his girlfriend.’

Kate nodded. Saskia ran her finger down her glass, thoughtfully.

Kate took a sip of her drink, and watched her. ‘What?’

Saskia groaned. ‘Kate. If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone? I have to tell someone or I’m going to die.’

Kate tensed. She couldn’t take any more bad news about Helen regarding Jack.

Saskia opened her mouth. ‘Jonathan. The business I told you about him being bored with me. It wasn’t exactly true. I mean, it was. He did get fed up with me moaning about working for Dad and not going back to do my degree, but it wasn’t the reason he left me.’

Kate sat back. ‘What?’

‘I had an affair.’

Kate slammed her drink down on the bar. ‘You are f*cking joking! You?’

Saskia shook her head ruefully. ‘You remember when Dad made the whole agency go on that terrible team-building week in Gloucestershire? I met him there, at the hotel, on the first night. He said he liked the ladder I’d made out of a tree trunk.’

Kate smiled before she could help herself. She’d forgotten how funny and self-effacing Sass could be.

Saskia hit her arm. ‘Don’t, Kate. Honestly. He was called Tony, and he came from Essex, and he’d just got divorced. He was on business, and he was lonely, and he was very sweet to me.’

‘Oh, your dad would love that,’ Kate smiled, imaging the snob in Richard being faced with the prospect of announcing at the golf club that instead of ‘Jonathan from Surrey’ Saskia was now seeing ‘Tony from Essex’.

Saskia rolled her eyes. ‘Exactly. Anyway, I just needed to get away from everyone – you know what Dad’s like when he holds forth to a captive audience at the bar. I said I had a headache, and Tony asked me to come for a drink in the village. I told him about all the arguments me and Jonathan had been having, and I really don’t know how it happened. I was feeling low and he just kept telling me he was sure I would make a fantastic architect one day. I drank too much and we ended back at the hotel. And then it just kept happening that week. Honestly, I’ve never done anything like that before and I still don’t really know why I did.’

Kate sighed, knowing that Saskia would never be able to bear the guilt of something like that. ‘Please tell me you didn’t tell Jonathan.’

Saskia rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t realize how serious Tony was taking it. He started texting me when I got home. I tried to stop him, but when I didn’t return his calls, he rang me at the house when I was out. Jonathan answered.’

‘Oh Sass!’

‘He looked so sick. And the worst thing was, Tony wasn’t even my type. He had this spiky dark hair with too much gel in it. And he wore business suits. I honestly don’t know why I did it.’

Kate felt a tug of the old affection for Saskia. She had been cast into the role of big sister to Sass when they first met, and as an only child herself, had cherished it. ‘Maybe it’s not too late. If you finish your degree and give Jonathan some time, maybe he’ll come round.’

Saskia shrugged. ‘No. Do you know, I’m starting to wonder if this is the best thing. I’m not sure Jonathan really wanted the best for me. Not the way Hugo did for you. So, now it’s my decision and no one else’s. And I’m going to tell Dad tomorrow that I’m going to apply to do my Part Two, then do my Part Three the year after next, and qualify as an architect. And that I don’t want his money. I’ll pay for it myself.’

Kate sat back, imagining Richard’s fury. It had taken Hugo a year to tell his father that he’d swapped from a degree in architecture to one in architectural history and design, and would not be following Richard’s dream for him to be an architect like himself. It was a sweet irony that Saskia, whom Richard had no plans for whatsoever, would be taking on the dream for his golden boy. Becoming Richard’s equal. Kate sat forwards. ‘I’m pleased for you. Actually, I think Hugo should have stepped in and made you do it years ago. I’m not sure he ever realized that being Richard’s daughter was very different to being his son.’

Saskia gave her a searching look that made her avert her eyes. ‘What’s he done to you, Kate?’

‘Who?’

‘This man? He’s changed you. Your eyes are shining.’

Was it that obvious? ‘I’m not sure what he’s done. He just seems to get what’s going on inside my head.’

‘Him and the therapist.’

Kate looked away. She and Sass had shared enough truths for one night. ‘Yup.’

Saskia took a long sip of wine. A frown appeared on her face.

‘What?’

Saskia blinked hard.

‘Sass, what now?’

‘It’s nothing. It’s just . . . I don’t know how to say this, Kate. This guy that you’re seeing. Jago?’

‘Hmm?’

‘It’s just . . . well, I know Dad’s always been worried.’

‘About what?’ Kate felt the tension from earlier return.

Well, do you remember when Hugo was ki— . . . when he died . . . there was all that publicity in the papers about the case? The tabloids kept printing things like, “The gang targeted Hugo Parker’s million-pound home in Highgate” and “Hugo Parker’s parents travelled from their one-and-a-half-million-pound house in Oxford to the hearing today . . .” And stuff like “It has been a second tragedy for his widow Kate Parker, whose parents were killed in a car crash on her wedding night on the way home to their house in Shropshire”. That kind of thing.’

Kate did remember. She remembered the relentless invasion of it, the pain of seeing photos of the people she loved laid out on newspaper pages next to car adverts. ‘So?’

‘I’m just saying. It wouldn’t take anyone long to work out there’s a lot of money sloshing around. All the life insurance. The property you inherited. The business. And then a load more coming to you and Jack one day from Mum and Dad.’

Oh my God. Kate put down her glass. Saskia was talking about money. She was accusing Jago of being a gold-digger.

Saskia wasn’t happy for her at all. She was still trying to control her, keep her trapped.

Kate bristled. ‘Well that kind of doesn’t surprise me at all, Sass – as Richard’s whole life revolves around money, he can’t imagine anyone having any other motive in their life. For your information, Jago’s a visiting professor at Oxford, with a best-selling book in the States. He drives around in a hatchback and listens to indie bands, and goes mountain-biking. I’m sorry, I really don’t think he needs anyone else’s cash, and even if he did, he’s not the type.’

Kate knew as she said it, that a boundary had been crossed. Her feelings about Richard had always been implied to Saskia, never spoken.

Saskia sat back, looking hurt.

‘Kate. Richard is my dad,’ she said quietly. ‘I know he has faults, lots of faults, but he’s still my father, and I won’t sit here and let you talk about him like that, any more than you would have let someone talk about yours like that.’ Saskia hesitated as if she desperately wanted to say something but knew, if she did, it could never be taken back. She was fighting it, Kate could see, and then her sister-in-law’s mouth opened, as if the words were being pushed out of her by years of resentment. ‘And can I remind you that if Dad hadn’t lent you and Hugo a quarter of a million quid, he and David would never have got the business off the ground.’

She broke off. They both sat with an almost full bottle of wine in front of them that was never going to be drunk.

‘We paid it back, Sass,’ Kate said quietly. ‘Hugo, David and I worked seven-day weeks at that first year.’

‘You paid it back out of a business you couldn’t have started without him,’ her sister-in-law replied, the resentment undisguised at last. They both knew Richard would never have done the same for Saskia. He would never have placed the same trust and confidence in his daughter that he did in his beloved son.

Kate pushed back her seat, knowing Saskia was right and hating the conflict it created inside her. She’d never wanted to take that bloody money off Richard. It had been Hugo who’d persuaded her it would be fine. It was time to go. This had been a mistake. She and Saskia were never going to be friends again. There was too much between them now. It was over.

‘Hugs would find this so sad,’ Saskia murmured.

‘He would find it unbelievable,’ Kate replied. She touched Saskia’s shoulder, feeling sorrow for Jack and his hopes for her and his aunt’s relationship, and walked out of the pub.

She marched up to Hubert Street, Saskia’s accusation about Jago ringing in her ears. She gave it a moment of thought, then dismissed it completely.

Crazy.

Jack sat in the back of Richard’s car on the M4, looking through Jago Martin’s book, even though it was making him car sick.

He kept flicking back and forwards, and then he stopped.

He looked down at a page on road accidents, then up at the motorway.

Something wasn’t right.