Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE



Kate stopped in front of the juice bar mid-afternoon. It was a Tuesday and the auburn-haired waitress was behind the counter. She locked her bike up and went in.

The girl came over, her eyes widening.

‘Oh it’s you. Oh my God, was that the Scottish guy, on the news?’

Kate nodded.

The girl flung a hand over her mouth. ‘That’s so awful. I wasn’t sure. It looked like him in the photo, but I thought he was called Jago, and on the news they said “Peter something”?’

Kate shrugged. ‘It’s a long story. But, yes, it was him. I just wanted to ask you how you knew there was something weird.’

The waitress rolled her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. The first time you came in here, he followed you in and gave me £50 to pretend that I fancied him to you, to say that he had a sexy accent et cetera. I thought I was just helping him out because he was shy. Then when I saw him do that thing with the dog, I felt bad. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but you looked so fragile and vulnerable, and he just seemed weird. I thought, if I gave you his bag you might find something in it that told you what he was up to, some strange porn or something. He came back twice looking for it, and to be honest, he scared me. He was so angry that it had gone, and I knew there was something odd about him.’

Kate touched the girl’s hand. ‘Well, thanks. You were right.’

‘They said it might have been suicide? On the news?’

Kate shook her head. ‘They don’t know yet. He jumped in a way they teach you never to do. He knew what might happen if he did, so either he did it on purpose, or he genuinely made a very bad mistake then froze and couldn’t release his main chute when his reserve opened. The odds of it happening are tiny, so maybe he was just unlucky.’

‘Got to be someone, I suppose, eh?’ the girl said.

Kate nodded, ‘Got to be someone.’

She arrived home fifteen minutes later, and Saskia answered the door.

‘He’s in his room,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’ She put down her bag. ‘How are your parents?’

Tears filled Saskia’s eyes, which were already red from crying. She shook her head. ‘Dad won’t speak to anyone. He just looks so gaunt, Kate. He can’t even look at us. He keeps going out on his boat. It’s horrible. I think Mum’s too scared to come over to see you. She keeps saying that Jago Martin – or Peter or whoever he was – his dad was an alcoholic, and it was his fault because he took his wife’s money without asking and bought that house off Charley for cash without a survey or insurance. They knew each other from the pub, apparently. It wasn’t Dad’s fault. That regulations were different back then.’

Kate avoided Saskia’s eyes. Richard’s monsters were his own to deal with now.

‘How did you get on at the police station?’ Saskia sniffed.

‘They’re telling Stan the taxi driver’s family in Shropshire today. And the lawyers for the guys that took Hugo’s car have filed for an immediate dismissal of the murder charges.’

‘What about the weirdo next door?’

Kate shrugged, shivering at the thought of that horrible man so close to her and Jack. How Saskia had tried to warn her, and how she’d ignored her. ‘They questioned him this afternoon and they’re going to search his house later to find out how he knew all that stuff about me. He’s a serial burglar – he absconded from prison years ago, abroad, apparently,’ she said, rubbing her eyes, exhausted. ‘The police think he came to London, and met Jago through some dodgy bloke they both knew. Jago helped him get a new identity, then the weirdo said Jago kept blackmailing him into doing shady stuff for him.’ She rubbed her upper arm. ‘He was so clever – the weirdo thought he was Scottish too, never even knew his name. He had me believing this whole incredible lie, too, about him living in America, and having a girlfriend there – I think to make me jealous and to distract me from what he was really up to.’

Saskia turned one way, then another in the hall, shaking her head. ‘Oh God, all those people. Your parents. Hugo. It’s such a mess. I’m so sorry, Kate.’

‘It’s OK, Sass, it’s not your fault,’ Kate said, pulling her into a hug, knowing it was what Hugo would want her to do. They held each other tight.

When Saskia left, Kate went upstairs and found Jack sitting on his bed, playing on the laptop.

She sat down, and smoothed down his hair.

‘I have something to tell you.’

He waited.

‘Well, I think we’ve had a really horrible time, you and me, Jack, and I think it’s time now for us to put it behind us, and think about what we’re going to do next. Think about the future. So I’ve arranged for all Dad’s furniture to be picked up tomorrow to be put in storage for you for when you’re older, and then you can decide what to do with it. And then we’re going to turn the dining room into a games room with a pool table so you can have your friends over.’

Jack grinned. ‘Really?’

‘Uhuh.’

Then his smile disappeared. ‘But wouldn’t Dad be sad?’

‘No. Absolutely not. And if you wanted to sell that furniture when you’re an adult to pay for something you’d love to do, I promise you, he’d be delighted. Your dad was such a happy person. It’s what people loved about him. He loved life, and he’d want us to get on with ours, too and enjoy them. Starting now.’

Jack watched her with his big green eyes.

‘So, the other thing is, at the end of term, you and me are going to Spain for a month to stay in David’s house. On our own. And, guess what, there’s a sailing school there, apparently, and I thought we could try it together.’

‘Woo-hoo!’ Jack shouted, like Homer.

She laughed and leaned forwards to kiss him. She stayed there for a second, resting her lips against his cheek, as if he was a toddler, and to her joy, he let her. Just for a second.

‘Mum?’ he said pulling back.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you going to go parachuting again?’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘I just wondered.’

‘Well, I’m going to think about it.’

‘What was it like?’

She laughed, ‘Jack. You’ve asked me that a hundred times now.’

‘But that man died doing it.’

‘Well, we think he might have done that on purpose. And if not, he was just very, very unlucky, Jack. And I think you and I have had our fair share of bad luck for now, don’t you? But, you know what, it might be over now.’

Jack appraised her, then turned over to go to sleep.

She went over to the wardrobe and peered inside.

‘Checking for monsters?’ Jack asked.

She turned and smiled.

‘There’s no such thing, Jack.’





Acknowledgements



Thanks to my editor Trisha Jackson for her enthusiasm and support for Accidents Happen, and to Natasha Harding, Harriet Sanders, Liz Johnson, Jon Mitchell and the rest of the team at Pan Macmillan. Also to Lizzy Kremer at David Higham Associates for her expert guidance, and to Laura West and Harriet Moore.

A special debt of gratitude to Sarah B, who steered me through the world of statistics and probability, and to Phillip Lloyd of Lloyd Projects, for help with period property restoration. And to Skydive Headcorn parachute school for a fantastic morning learning the safe way to parachute (I will be back to jump, I hope!). I am responsible for the use of all information in this fictional context, and for any mistakes.

Further thanks to Linda Thomas, Jon Hird, Tracey Smith, Laura, Su Butcher, Kim Mansfield-Davies, Mandy Cohen, Francesca Hillier, Bridget and Sita Brahmachari. And to my family, especially my mum, Tim, and my own real-life lovely in-laws, Hazel and David.

I gathered my statistics as Kate would have done: randomly from internet sites, some British, some American. While I have stayed faithful to the layout of central Oxford, I have taken licence with the waterways, along with my fictional account of the fantastic bat-watch run by the real and very committed rangers of Highgate Woods!

I borrowed the story of the amazing Frano Selak from real life. He famously became known as ‘the world’s luckiest man’, after cheating death seven times, then winning £600,000 on the lottery – which he then gave away . . .