Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE



Jack ran around Nana’s garden, kicking his ball, realizing that he was going to do something bad. He didn’t normally do bad things, but today he didn’t care.

Aunt Saskia said they would tell Mum about Jago Martin tomorrow. He wanted to tell her now.

‘Jack, darling?’ He heard Nana shout from the house. ‘It’s nearly twelve. Could you pop to the village for some bread, darling?’

He ran in and found Nana at the Aga, where she was making soup.

‘Of course, Nana.’

‘Good boy.’ She turned to find him some money. Aunt Sass was still at the computer, looking a bit lost in her head, like Mum did sometimes. ‘And can you get Granddad his newspaper, and another pint of milk?’

‘Sure,’ Jack said, grabbing the money and Rosie’s lead. Rosie leaped up at him and pawed at his leg.

To his relief, Aunt Sass didn’t even look up. Jack shouted, ‘Bye,’ and ran out, through the garden gate onto the river path and set off past the boats, with Rosie pulling ahead. He rubbed his stomach, realizing to his surprise that the cramp was gone.

‘I’m going to look after her, Dad,’ he said under his breath.

He waited till he was out of sight of Granddad’s house, then took his mobile from his pocket and pressed his mum’s number. Would she be pleased with him, or cross?

It went straight to voicemail.

He took a long breath.

‘. . . Mum. It’s Jack. Don’t be angry with me, but there’s something wrong with that man Jago Martin. I’ve got his book and all the numbers are wrong in it. He’s stolen bits from other books on Amazon and made then into a book with his name on it and he’s pretending it’s his. Don’t be angry at me, but he’s weird. Sorry, Mum . . .’

Back at the house, Saskia got up, feeling nauseous. She picked up Jago Martin’s book.

‘You OK, darling?’ Helen called from the Aga.

Saskia looked at her guiltily. Helen had been so upset about the divorce, so embarrassed about all the gifts that had been given by family and friends and hardly used. If she ever found out that Saskia had brought it upon herself, that she had caused this so foolishly . . .

‘Uhuh,’ Saskia lied, then walked into the sitting room and shut the door. She picked up the phone and rang Kate’s number.

‘. . . Kate, it’s me. You have to ring me back straight away. F*ck, I don’t know where you are or how to tell you this but that guy Jago Martin . . .’

She spoke for another whole minute before putting the phone down.

She sat staring at Jago Martin’s photo in the book, hoping to God she was right, because, if not, this would really be the end of her and Kate for good.

She tried to imagine him for the twentieth time in a suit, with black gelled hair, and hoped that this wasn’t a horrible mistake. That last time she had seen this man, he really had been called Tony, and really had come from Essex.