Accidents Happen Read Free

Jack together took her by surprise.
    A pit of disappointment opened up in her stomach.
    Jack was a clone of her. You couldn’t deny it.
    Kate buckled up her helmet, watching them. It simply wasn’t happening. However desperately she willed her son’s hair to darken and coarsen like Hugo’s, or his green eyes to turn brown, it was Helen and Saskia whom Jack took after. As he sat, arms touching with his grandmother, the similarities were painfully obvious. The same pale hair that was slightly too fine for the long skater-boy cut he desperately wanted; delicate features that would remain immune to the nasal bumps and widening jaws that would wipe out his friends’ childhood beauty; the flawless skin that tanned so easily and would remain unmarked by Kate’s dark moles or Richard and Hugo’s unruly eyebrows.
    No, he was nearly eleven. Nothing was going to change now. Jack would be a physically uncomplicated adult, like his grandmother and aunt, with none of the familiar landmarks of his father.
    Kate stood up straight and tried to think about something else. She walked to the fridge and opened it.
    ‘Oh, by the way, Helen, I’ve made this for tonight,’ she said, pulling out a casserole dish and lifting the lid. ‘It’s just vegetables and lentils. And some potatoes . . .’
    Kate stopped.
    She stared at the dark brown glutinous sludge of the stew. It was an inch or two shallower in the dish than she’d left it this morning.
    ‘Jack, did you eat some of this?’ Kate asked, turning around alarmed. He shook his head.
    Kate’s eyes flew to the kitchen window locks and the back door. All intact. She then spun round to check the window at the side return – and came face to face with Helen, who had come up behind her.
    Watching her.
    Helen gave Kate a smile and took the casserole gently from her, replacing it in the fridge.
    ‘Now, don’t worry about us, Kate. We stopped at Marks on the way over. I got some salmon and new potatoes, and a bit of salad.’
    Kate noted the salmon sitting in her fridge on the shelf above the casserole and felt the waves of Helen’s firm resolve radiate towards her. ‘Oh. But I made it for tonight. Really. There’s plenty for the three of you. I’m just confused at how so much of it has disappeared. It’s as if . . .’
    ‘Oh, it’ll have just sunk down in the dish when it was cooling,’ Helen interrupted, shooting a reassuring smile at Jack. ‘No, Kate. You keep it for tomorrow.’
    Kate peered into the fridge. Was Helen right? She lifted the lid again to check if she could see a faint line of dried casserole that would prove its original height.
    There was nothing there.
    ‘Absolutely,’ Richard boomed. ‘Take the weight off.’
    Richard and Helen together. Two against one, as always.
    ‘OK,’ she heard herself say lamely. She replaced the lid and shut the fridge. They could eat their bloody salmon. Jack didn’t even like it. He only ate it to be polite.
    ‘Now, you’re probably starving, darling, aren’t you?’ Helen said to Jack, taking Kate’s apron off a hook and putting it on. There was a fragment of tinned tomato on it left over from making the stew this morning. It was about to press against Helen’s white summer cardigan.
    Kate went to speak, and then didn’t.
    ‘OK, then . . .’ She hesitated. ‘By the way . . .’
    They both glanced up.
    Jack looked down at the table.
    ‘I’ve . . . have you been up . . .?’ She pointed at the ceiling.
    They shook their heads.
    ‘No, dear,’ Helen replied. ‘Why?’
    Jack kept his eyes on the table, slowly finishing his muffin.
    ‘Well, I haven’t got time to explain, but anyway, don’t worry about it. It’s just . . .’
    They waited, expectantly. Jack’s jaws stopped moving.
    ‘I needed to do it. And it’s done now. So – see you later.’
    And with that, she marched out of the door of her house – her house – cross that she had to explain at all.

CHAPTER TWO
    It was a warm May evening and Oxford