Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX



It was 8 a.m. on the Saturday morning as Kate pulled in to the service station on the M25, nervous about the last step of Jago’s experiment. In fact, she had been so preoccupied, she’d hardly noticed the lorries behind her on the M40. Instead, she’d found an old Johnny Cash CD in the front compartment and played that, his comforting mellow voice drifting out of the window she had opened to let in the already-warm June air. To her surprise, she had noticed a small sense of joy descending upon her.

She spotted Jago immediately as she circled, looking for a parking space.

He was standing at the main door of the cafe area, a coffee in hand, sipping it carefully as steam drifted up into a blue sky that, if all the bike carriers and boat trailers were anything to go by, was already summoning a weekend crowd to the outdoors.

Kate found a cramped space beside a 4x4 topped with mountain bikes, and turned off the engine. She sat back and observed Jago furtively in her side mirror.

He looked even more tanned, as if he’d been out cycling in the sun. He wore a slim-fit grey T-shirt that showed off the taut muscles of his arms and torso, and a black top tied around his waist. He was wearing tracksuit trousers and trainers, as she was. He had been specific about that on the phone. ‘Something comfortable,’ he’d said. ‘Something you’d go running in on a cold day.’

So. This was it. After today, when they saw each other again, it would be a normal date. How would that feel? Would she be able to do things with him that were planned ahead, without trying to control things again?

At least now Kate knew she had a chance.

She felt a tremor in her stomach, remembering something else.

Tonight she would sleep with him. She looked at him again, something niggling her mind.

But first it was only fair, before she took that step, to tell him what she had done.

She climbed out of her car, and crossed towards him. He spotted her and picked up a coffee he’d clearly bought for her, as she crossed the line of arriving cars to reach him.

‘Hello!’ He put out his arms, coffee in each hand, and kissed her. There was no awkwardness on his part or hers now. She fell into him, his body still familiar from last week in her kitchen.

‘You smell nice,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

‘Hmm . . .’ she growled, prodding his chest gently. ‘You’d better have a good reason for getting me up at 6.30 a.m., mate.’

‘Ahah!’ He kissed her again. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’ He pointed at her car. ‘Can you drive?’

‘Uh, yes, but how did you get here?’ she asked, as they crossed back over the road.

Jago opened the passenger door. ‘Someone gave me a lift on their way to London this morning.’

‘But I thought you just came from London,’ Kate said, climbing in her side and starting the engine.

Jago grinned.

‘What?’ she said, putting on her seatbelt and reversing out. She followed the exit sign back onto the M25, waiting for his reply.

‘Kate. I haven’t been in London.’

She did a double take. ‘I thought that was where you’ve been – working?’

Jago sipped his coffee. ‘No. My classes finished at Balliol the week we went to Highgate Woods – the Oxford summer school doesn’t start till next Monday.’

Kate accelerated onto the motorway. ‘Oh, sorry. So, where have you been?’

Jago lifted her coffee up for her to have a sip. She took it, realizing she was getting used again to these small intimate gestures of affection that people in relationships shared.

‘Now, that’s what we’re about to find out.’ She threw him a worried look.

‘Come on. One more step, then you can relax. We can relax. Actually, I was just looking at those mountain bikes back there, wondering if you fancied coming cycling with me in the Cotswolds next week – someone at Balliol told me about a good trail.’

She tensed, waiting for the numbers to fly at her about bike accidents, but nothing came. ‘Um, yeah.’ It was easy to say yes. ‘I suppose so. That sounds nice.’

And it did sound nice. Cycling outdoors in the sunshine in a beautiful part of the world. She took the cup from him and had another sip, their fingers touching for a second.

‘Thanks.’

‘Great. And we’ll find a proper country pub this time.’

That sounded nice too. As Jago looked for a radio station, a thought occurred to her. How much of life had she missed in the last five years, tiptoeing between safe corners, frightened of shadows?

They turned off the motorway at the next signpost, then Jago directed her onto a two-lane country road surrounded by high hedges. He found an alternative music station and sat back, tapping his fingers on his leg. They carried on for ten miles, chatting about Kate’s new plans for the foundation, then turned into a much narrower country road that soon disappeared behind high hedges.

‘Why is this making me uneasy?’ said Kate.

‘Oi. Stop trying to predict.’

‘Sorry.’

As she took her time, it dawned on her that Jack would be home next weekend. How would she explain the Cotswold trip? She glanced at Jago, wondering. Would it be too weird?

‘Jago. Could I ask you something? Would you mind meeting Jack?’

He dropped his head to the side, as if listening to a strange noise.

‘I’d just introduce you as a friend.’

‘Yeah, absolutely. When?’

‘Really?’ He hadn’t even hesitated. ‘Maybe next week?’

‘Absolutely,’ Jago repeated, tapping his fingers to the music as the car re-emerged from behind the hedges. ‘Take him to the Cotswolds, if you like. Does he like cycling? I take my niece, Clara, sometimes in Scotland. She’s about the same age.’

‘Do you?’ She loved the way he talked about his family. Like Hugo. ‘He’d love that, actually. I never take him cycling.’

‘Great. He and I can talk science.’

The joy in her heart expanded a little. ‘Thanks. That would be amazing. I’m sorry, it’s just . . .’

He shook his head. ‘Kate. My sister – Clara’s mum – is divorced. I know a bit about what it’s like.’ He started singing along to the radio. He was so relaxed. So relaxing to be around and . . .

She glanced again.

. . . But actually, something was different. She had noticed it at the motorway station but now it was becoming more obvious. Jago’s fingers were tapping incessantly. His legs and buttocks were tensing, too, in turns, moving half and inch up and down, like a boxer on his toes before a fight.

‘So. Come on,’ she said. ‘What are we doing?’

Jago froze mid-tap.

Then, without warning, he threw himself forwards and put his head in his hands. ‘Ah!’ he groaned.

‘What?’ Kate said, alarmed.

Jago threw back his head. ‘You’re going to kill me.’

‘What?’ she exclaimed, swerving at the last moment to avoid a pheasant.

‘OK. Right. Well, can I just say, when you start shouting at me, because you will, that it’s your own fault.’

What was he talking about?

Jago turned sideways to face her. ‘OK. Well, when you mentioned it last week, I realized it was something that I’d always wanted to do. I had this week off, so I thought, Why not? I’ve just got a royalty cheque through from my American publisher, so I went for it.’

Kate slowed down as they approached a bend, desperately searching her memory. What had she said?

‘Jago?’ she said nervously. ‘Talking about what?’

‘There,’ Jago grinned pointing. Kate looked ahead and saw a field with a hangar appearing on their right.

The yellow wing of a small aircraft came into view.

It took her a second to register what was written in large letters on the sign in front of them.

‘WELCOME TO BINDWOOD PARACHUTE SCHOOL’.