Accidents Happen A Novel

CHAPTER NINE



The clock on Gabe’s computer in his bedroom said 5.45 p.m. Jack looked at his new Facebook account on the screen, eyes glowing. With Gabe’s help, he already had eleven friends: ten from school, and Aunt Sass, who had insisted that if she was going to go behind his mum’s back she was at least going to see what he was up to. Gabe’s mum had made him do the same, so at least Jack wasn’t the only one with a smiling grown-up on his friends list, with watchful eyes. As long as Sid at school didn’t start writing rude things. Aunt Sass was cool, but even she’d be shocked at some of the stuff Sid showed them on his phone at playtime.

‘Mum says you can stay for tea, J!’ Gabe shouted from downstairs.

‘But you’ve got to phone your mum and tell her, Jack,’ came Gabe’s mum’s voice from the kitchen. Her voice always sounded relaxed, as if it was lazing on a beach. ‘You know what she’s like, yeah?’

‘OK,’ Jack called. He frowned. He knew Gabe and his mum would be making faces at each other about his mum. He picked up his mobile, thinking. He wasn’t ready to speak to her yet. He felt too guilty. She’d only be at home, worrying again, more probably because of what he’d said this morning. No – he knew what he would do.

hi mum, he texted. He sat for a moment, listening to Gabe fighting with his brother downstairs, and Gabe’s mum shouting, ‘You two!’ and ‘Enough!’ Jack swept a curve of fine blond hair away from his face. It would be nice to have a brother so it wasn’t always just him and Mum. He supposed he wouldn’t get one now.

He lifted his fingers, wondering what to say.

Kate’s phone buzzed as she walked in the house.

hi mum. gabes mum says i can stay for tea. can i?

hi jack, of course, have fun, she made herself text back, fighting the urge to tell him to ensure Gabe walked him home afterwards. She sighed, imagining Jack in the loud, happy chaos of Gabe’s house, wishing he never had to come home. She was just about to turn off her phone, when a new text arrived.

are you ok mum?

Kate gasped. ‘Oh,’ she whispered. The unfamiliar intimacy of his words took her by surprise.

yes of course! she typed.

But just as she was about to send it, she stopped.

She sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the screen, looking at his question.

are you ok mum?

He was asking her. After their awful fight this morning, and the lie she made him tell his teacher, the least she could do was answer truthfully.

She thought for a moment, then tapped in a different reply.

honestly jack? no. not really. but it has NOTHING to do with you. it’s me, and i promise i am trying to fix it. really, really sorry about your head

She pressed the ‘send’ button, and grimaced. Was it too much? She sat nervously biting her fingernails. His message pinged back.

i’m sorry 2

‘Oh!’ she whispered. He was trying to talk to her. After all this time, he was trying to talk to her.

Sitting upright, Kate tried to think fast.

no jack. you’ve done nothing wrong. it’s me, and i know some things have gone wrong and i promise that i’m doing everything i can now to make it better

She waited, gritting her teeth. This was excruciating. Like digging a pencil in a raw wound. If she felt like this, how must he be feeling?

Nothing happened.

She sat upright, waiting for his reply.

She waited another minute.

Damn, she’d scared him. She couldn’t expect him to go from never talking about the terrible thing that had torn their lives apart to an open, frank discussion, just because she had decided it would be good for them. She bit her lip and decided to take a risk.

maybe you can help me?

This time the reply was almost immediate.

i dont know what 2 do

‘Oh Jack,’ she said sadly. u cd tell me what i’m doing wrong

She waited.

but then you get upset

She sniffed. sorry. jack – i didn’t realize

She thought for a minute, then typed again. you know, it’s so good to talk about this with you. could we talk about it more when you get home?

She waited and waited.

His message pinged back.

gabes coming, bye.

Kate put her phone down, reeling at what had just happened.

This was good. This was a start. The fight she’d had with Jack this morning had been awful, but maybe they’d needed something like that to start talking again.

And then there was Jago Martin. She didn’t know why, but somehow, ever since she’d met that man this morning, something had felt different. Better. A tiny bit hopeful.

Just don’t think about it, he’d said.

And she hadn’t. Not about a single statistic. She’d fought it all the way home.

Out of nowhere, an impulse overtook her. She ran upstairs, unlocked the padlock to the gate, grabbed it, and marched into the study. Without stopping to think, she unlocked and flung open the window.

It was time. Things had to change. Today.

With a grunt, Kate threw the padlock as far as she could into the garden. It landed on the trampoline and bounced up, knocking Jack’s football sideways.

‘F*ck off!’ she called out.

There was a sound to her left. A throat being cleared. She looked to see a man sitting in the garden next door, holding a beer bottle, looking up at her. He had very long legs splayed out in front of him, and was dressed in black with deathly pale skin and bad glasses. One of the students, presumably.

‘Oh. Sorry,’ she said. ‘Not you.’

‘OK then! Everybody’s happy!’ he said, raising his bottle. His accent was musical, each word sounding as if it were formed carefully to incorporate unfamiliar vowels. His top half was swaying a little as if he were drunk. He kept looking at her, as if he were trying to get into focus. Even from this distance she could see his eyes were an odd shade, a silvery pale blue. The colour of a husky’s.

‘Well. Bye,’ she said, withdrawing and shutting the window.

She locked it again and went to run a bath.

She lay in the bath for a while, using her hands to create waves of warm water to wash over her body, thinking about Jago Martin.

Jesus Christ. She was going for a drink with a man.

A man with interesting blue eyes who had awakened something in her today she couldn’t even begin to describe.

As she lay back in the bath, her eyes settled on her vanilla hand lotion that sat on the bathroom windowsill.

She blinked.

It was a quarter empty.

She had only bought it on Saturday yet it was almost a quarter empty. Surely she hadn’t used that much? Kate looked around the bathroom. Was it an old one she’d forgotten about? The familiar sense of unease settled on her.

Helen’s words came back to her about the casserole. ‘It had not gone.’

‘For God’s sake! Stop this,’ Kate muttered to herself. What was wrong with her? She had obviously just used more than she’d realized.

A door slammed downstairs, making her jump.

‘Mum?’

Jack was back.

‘I’m in the bath. Are you OK?’ she called out nervously, sitting up. She fought the urge to ask if Gabe had walked him home.

’Yeah,’ he shouted up. ‘Can I watch The Simpsons?’

‘Got any homework?’

‘No.’

‘OK. See you in a while.’

There was a pause.

‘Gabe walked back with me, by the way,’ he called.

She berated herself in the mirror. ‘Oh, OK.’

Ten minutes later, she went downstairs to see Jack lying on the sofa, the plaster still on his head. She waited to see if the intimacy from the texting earlier was still there but he just glanced up at her like normal, and back at the telly.

Probably too much to ask.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

‘How’s your head?’

‘OK, thanks.’

‘Anyone ask?’

‘Ms Corrigan. I said it was my skateboard.’

‘Oh. Sorry,’ Kate said, ashamed.

‘It’s OK.’

The barrier was back up. She could see him tensing again. She sat uncertainly on the arm of the sofa, pretending to watch the television. Helen’s words came back to her: ‘You are his parent, not the other way round.’

Whatever she suspected now about the depth of Helen’s negative feelings towards her, on that point Helen had been right. Which is why Kate had lain in bed this morning, forcing herself to do what she never did: delve painfully into the bank of memories of their life before Hugo died. Trying to find something she could try. One flashback from the kitchen in their old house in Highgate had given her an idea.

Would he go for it, or was he too old now?

‘Jack?’

‘Hmm?’ he replied, grinning as Bart showed his bum to Principal Skinner.

‘I was thinking of making some flapjacks for Nana and Granddad for you to take this weekend. You don’t fancy helping, do you?’

He turned, unsure, and she saw him trying to judge whether she meant it or not.

‘Now?’

‘Hmm.’

‘Have we got stuff to make flapjacks?’

Kate shrugged uncertainly. It was so long since those Highgate days when Jack stood on a stool to reach the counter, the pair of them chatting as they baked cakes for Hugo’s lunchbox. ‘Isn’t it just butter and porridge and honey or something?’ she said.

Jack scratched his nose. ‘Golden syrup, I think, we used at school. We could get it from the corner shop.’

He stood up and she realized he was trying to hide a pleased smile forcing its way onto his face.

And then, to Kate’s delight, there he was, finally. In Jack’s expression, just for a second, as he went to turn off the television. The hidden grin. Just like in the photograph Saskia had taken on the terrace in Highgate as he tried not to laugh at her joke.

Hugo.