The Accident (3 page)

‘Sue?’ says a man’s voice, directly behind me. ‘What are you doing?’

Sunday 4th September 1990

James and I had sex.

It happened on Saturday night.

He called me in the afternoon and the first thing he said was ‘I’ve barely slept for thinking about you.’

I knew exactly how he felt. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him either. I’d woken up on Saturday morning with the most terrible feeling of dread that I’d never see him again. I was convinced I’d said something unforgiveable on Friday night and that, in the cold light of day, he’d realized that I wasn’t the woman for him after all.

So sure was I that, when James rang and said he couldn’t stop thinking about me, I was totally floored.

‘Absolutely,’ I said when he said he needed to see me ASAP. ‘If I jump in the shower now then hop on the tube I could be in Camden in—’

‘Actually I was thinking that we could meet for dinner this evening.’

What must he think of me – taking him literally like I had no life and no self-control? He didn’t laugh, thankfully, instead asked if I’d ever been to some fancy restaurant in St Pancras. I’d never heard of it and said as much, so James explained that it had come highly recommended by a friend.

Of course then I had
another
clothing dilemma (finally settling on my tried and tested little black dress) and was twenty minutes late as I walked in the restaurant at 8.20 p.m., trying not to ogle the stunning décor, the linen and crystal dressed tables and the immaculately turned out maître-d’ who was showing me to my table. James stood up as we drew near. He was dressed in a three-piece grey suit with a lilac cravat at his throat and elegant silver cufflinks at his wrists. I felt dowdy in my three-year-old dress and scuffed heels but, when James looked me up and down and his eyes widened in appreciation, I felt like the most attractive woman in the whole restaurant.

‘I can’t stop staring at you,’ he said after the maître-d’ seated me, handed us our menus and then left. ‘You always look beautiful but tonight you look,’ he shook his head as though dazed, ‘ridiculously sexy.’

I felt myself blush as his eyes flicked to my cleavage. ‘Thank you.’

‘Honestly Susan, I don’t think you have any idea of the effect you’re having on me, and every other man in the room.’

I thought that was a bit over the top but when my eyes flicked to the two men having a business meeting at the next table they nodded at me appreciatively.

‘So,’ James reached across the table for my hand as I drained my first glass of wine. ‘What do you like?’

I glanced at the menu. ‘The scallops sound nice.’

He shook his head and slipped his fingers between mine, sliding them back and forwards. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

I tried to swerve away from the question, to a more neutral conversation, but James topped up my wine glass and fixed me with that intense look of his.

‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my head all day,’ he said.

‘Me neither.’

‘I don’t think you understand.’ He tightened his grip on my hand and lowered his voice. ‘I only spent one evening with you but I haven’t been able to do anything because my mind and body have been craving you.’

I nodded, too shy to admit how many times I’d luxuriated in the fantasy of him lying naked beneath me.

‘It’s killing me,’ he continued, ‘sitting opposite you at the table, not able to touch you, not able to kiss you, not able to,’ his voice became gravelly, ‘fuck you.’

I didn’t look away. Instead I ran my hand over his, lightly tracing my fingers over the contours of his knuckles and whispered, ‘There are rooms upstairs.’

‘So there are.’ He smiled widely. ‘But now I know how much you want me, I’m going to make you wait.’

I squealed in protest but he shook his head, still grinning, and poured me another glass of wine.

‘Shall we order?’ he said. ‘The scallops look nice.’

The non-sexual mood didn’t last long and by the time our starters arrived, the air was blue. It wasn’t the sort of thing I’d normally talk about in a fancy restaurant but James kept slipping his fingers in and out of mine, I was circling his ankle with my stockinged foot and we were on our second bottle of wine and when he asked me if I’d ever had sex alfresco I was feeling bold so I admitted to sex in a tent, sex in a back garden after a party and a sandy attempt at oral sex on a beach. James listened to my stories, his eyes shining with excitement then urged me on, asking me if I’d ever indulged in S&M or role play, demanding I tell him what my favourite position was. I giggled as I told him that Nathan and I had messed around with silk scarves and handcuffs.

‘How about you?’ I asked after the waiter had placed our main courses in front of us. ‘What have you tried?’

‘Very little,’ James raised an eyebrow, ‘compared to you.’

He was smiling when he said it but there was a judgemental tone in his inflection that rankled me.

James noticed my change in mood immediately.

‘Oh Suzy.’ He grabbed my hand. ‘Suzy-Sue. Are you sulking? Darling, I was only playing. Look at me, please.’

I raised my eyelashes then laughed at the pouty expression on James’s face – an obvious imitation of my own.

‘I’ve been very naughty,’ he said, running his thumb over the back of my hand, ‘and I’ve done some terrible things but,’ his eyes glittered with promise, ‘not as terrible as the things I’m going to do to you.’

‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

He released my hand, cut into his steak and smiled. ‘Both.’

How we managed to check in, make it upstairs in the lift and operate the door mechanism to the room with our clothes still on, I have no idea because the second the door slammed behind us we tore at each other’s clothes, ripping off shirts, dresses, stockings and underwear. The sex was fast, furious, animalistic and over quickly, so desperate was our desire to fuck. We lay in each other’s arms, sweaty and panting for all of ten minutes before James rolled me onto my side, his erection pressed against my lower back, and fucked me again. At some point in the night we had sex in the bathroom. We were supposed to shower together to get clean but the lure of the water, the soap and two slippery bodies was too much. By the time we collapsed onto the bed again, the sun was peeping through the curtains.

‘I feel like I’m in a dream,’ James said, tracing his finger down my forehead, along my nose and resting in the dip of my cupid’s bow. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.’

‘I know.’ I stroked his arms, wrapping my hand around the contour of his bicep, cradling the muscle in my palm. ‘I can’t believe this is really happening.’

‘It is.’ He leaned towards me and kissed me tenderly, then parted my lips with his tongue and kissed me again, harder this time, his hand on my breast. Seconds later he was on top of me again. It must have been after six before we finally fell asleep.

Chapter 3

‘What?’ I snatch my hands from the drawer and spin around to face my accuser. ‘I wasn’t doing anything. I was just looking for—’

‘Got you!’ The tall, auburn-haired man standing in the doorway points and laughs uproariously. ‘Brilliant! You should compete in the Olympics, Sue. I’ve never seen anyone jump so high!’

‘Oli! You frightened me half to death.’

My stepson laughs again, his freckled face lighting up with amusement. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’

I force a smile but behind my back my hands are shaking. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at university?’

‘I was. Am. Sort of.’ He adjusts the weight of the rucksack he’s wearing on one shoulder and smiles. ‘Field trip in Southampton. I thought I’d drop in and see Dad en route.’ He peers around the study. ‘I’ve missed him, haven’t I?’

‘By about twenty minutes. He’s in London today.’

‘Damn.’ He casts another look around, hoping perhaps that Brian will magically materialize, then looks back at me and frowns. ‘You okay, Sue? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I’m fine.’ I push the drawer closed and cross the study. ‘Honestly.’

Oli’s eyes dart over my face, trying to read my expression as I approach him. ‘How’s Charlotte?’

I sigh, deflating as the air leaves my body. I’ve been so pumped on adrenalin searching through Brian’s things that now I’ve stopped I feel drained.

‘She’s …’ I want to tell him the truth – that Charlotte is no different than she was yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that but he looks so worried I lie instead. His exams are coming up soon and he’s worked so hard. ‘… She’s looking a little better. There was more colour in her cheeks yesterday.’

‘Really?’ His expression brightens again. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘It’s … progress.’

‘And has she, you know, shown any signs that she might wake up?’

‘No, not yet.’ The secret’s the reason she’s still asleep, I know it is. Maybe once I know what it is I’ll understand why, and then I’ll be able to help her.

‘Something … something … music,’ I hear my stepson say.

‘Sorry? What was that, darling?’

Oli smiles the same indulgent smile I’ve seen a hundred times since Charlotte’s accident – it’s the one that says it’s okay for me to be away with the fairies, considering what’s happened. ‘Music. Have you tried playing Charlotte her favourite songs? It works in Hollywood films.’

‘Music.’ She adored Steps and S Club Seven and their ridiculously catchy tunes and simple dance routines when she was a toddler but that was years ago. ‘I haven’t bought her a CD for years. It’s all MP3s and downloads these days, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you know what she likes?’

‘No idea.’ He shrugs. ‘Lady Gaga maybe? Jessie J? Doesn’t everyone under the age of sixteen worship her?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Or you could check her iPod to see what her highest rated or most frequently played songs are.’

‘You can do that?’ I make a mental note to find Charlotte’s iPod.

‘Or maybe ask one of her friends?’

‘Yes, yes I could,’ I say but the suggestion makes me frown. There’s been an outpouring of teenaged concern on Charlotte’s Facebook page – lots of ‘luv u m8’ and ‘gt wl sn
♥’ – but I haven’t heard so much as a peep from the two most important people in her life – her boyfriend Liam Hutchinson and her best friend Ella Porter. How could I have failed to notice?

Oli glances at his watch. ‘Shit. I didn’t realize the time. I’ve got to run. Next time I’m down I’ll pop in to see Charlotte.’ A shadow crosses his face. ‘Sorry I haven’t been there for her more. Life’s just been really—’

‘I know.’ I put a hand on his forearm. ‘You’ve got a lot on your plate. The best thing you can do right now is study hard and make us all proud.’

We walk in companionable silence down the stairs, across the hallway and into the kitchen where Milly, our hairy Houdini, is waiting for us, her tail thumping the tiles. I reach up to Oli for a goodbye hug and it strikes me for the umpteenth time how quickly time passes. It seems only yesterday that we shared our first hug and his arms embraced my knees instead of my shoulders.

‘I’ll tell your dad you called in,’ I say into his shoulder.

‘Cool.’ He kisses me on the top of my head then reaches down and scratches Milly behind her ears. ‘Be a good girl, Mrs Moo.’

‘Drive carefully!’ I shout after him as he lollops out of the kitchen and crosses the porch in two long strides. He raises a hand in acknowledgement and is gone.

I’m still standing at the kitchen window staring out into the front garden long after Oli’s little red Mini has pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Our brief conversation in the study has cleared my mind and I suddenly feel ridiculous for searching Brian’s pockets. Other than some emotional detachment on his part, and a hunch on mine, I’ve got no reason to suspect that he might be cheating on me. Of course Charlotte’s accident was going to change the dynamics of our relationship – how could something so terrible not? They say leopards never change their spots but Brian was a broken man when I found out about the affair. He cried and said he was ‘no better than that monster you were with before you met me’ and swore he’d never hurt me again. And I believed him.

The shrill sound of a phone ringing slices through my thoughts and, before I know what I’m doing, I’ve shut Milly in the porch and I’m taking the steps to the landing as fast as I can. Brian’s private line rarely rings and only then when it’s something very important.

‘Hello?’ I’m gasping for breath by the time I burst into the study and snatch up the receiver.

‘Mrs Jackson?’ I recognize the voice immediately. It’s Mark Harris, Brian’s personal assistant.

‘Speaking.’