Accidents Happen Read Free Page B

around medieval-style stone window frames. The glass revealed nothing inside but the red silk fringe of standard lamp, then darkness beyond.
    Kate pushed her bike into the driveway and locked it to a railing. She removed her helmet and ran her fingers through her hair. It fell forwards, thick with the Celtic blackness Mum told her she had inherited from an Irish aunt, blocking out the early evening sun for a second. She threw her head back and straightened her hair down to her shoulders, then forced herself up the stone steps to a white, carved portico. The front door was magnificent. Hugo would have loved it. An eight-foot-high Gothic revival arch, wooden, with roughly hewn baronial black metal hinges and a thick knocker.
    Kate paused.
    She lifted her hand before she could run away – and banged it.
    The sound made her jump. It resonated around the front garden, like a shotgun. The huge door swung open to reveal a blonde woman in her sixties. She was as tall as Richard, and broad, with a matronly bosom. Her hair was drawn up into an elaborate bun which looked as if it had first been created in the sixties. The woman wore a green print dress and had a strong piece of turquoise jewellery around her neck.
    ‘Kate?’
    Her voice was pleasant and soft, like ripe fruit.
    Kate nodded, feeling like a child.
    ‘I’m Sylvia. Come in.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    Kate walked into an elegant hall, tiled with gold and blue geometric Victorian tiles. ‘Do you want to leave your helmet there?’ Sylvia said, pointing to a mahogany table adorned by a giant vase of lilies.
    Kate nodded again, praying the plastic buckles wouldn’t scratch it.
    ‘I’m so glad you finally managed to come,’ Sylvia said.
    Kate looked at the floor.
    ‘I know. Sorry. Things just kept coming up.’
    ‘You managed to find someone to look after your son?’ Sylvia said, opening a door off the hall, and guiding Kate through. There was a fragrance of roses.
    ‘Yes, I did, thanks. His grandparents. My in-laws.’
    The sitting room was even more impressive than the hall, furnished with antique tables, bookshelves and over-stuffed chairs and sofas. It smelled of polish. The wallpaper looked original Victorian, too, or at least one of those expensive reproductions Hugo used to buy through specialists. Sage green with an intricate spray of curling dark stems and ruby-red roses.
    Sylvia pointed to an armchair.
    ‘Please, have a seat, Kate.’
    But Kate couldn’t.
    She stood in front of the chair. She was here now. It was time to start.
    Looking Sylvia in the eye, she made herself speak the words. Maybe it was the numbness in her lips from cycling, but the voice didn’t sound like hers. The words came out half-formed and uncertain, as if she had missed off the hard edges and spoken only the soft bits in the middle.
    ‘I told them I was seeing a woman who wanted to discuss renovating her house.’
    Sylvia nodded, as she moved to the sofa.
    ‘I see. Well, that’s something we can talk about, Kate.’

CHAPTER THREE
    There he was. That weirdo again.
    Saskia stood second in line at a cash till in Tesco on Cowley Road, watching the student in front put through two microwaveable beefburgers in buns, three tins of hotdogs and a bumper pack of Curly Wurlys.
    Yum, she thought, touching a French-polished fingertip on the chilled glass of the sparkling rosé she had placed on the belt. Some lucky girl was going to be wined and dined tonight.
    Cautiously, she lifted her eyes, to check he didn’t know she was looking. It was the first time she had seen him up close. It was his height that had originally caught her attention on the pavement a few weeks ago. Not that he was particularly taller than any other tall man she knew. Dad, for instance. His legs just seemed overly long, perhaps due to the shapeless black trousers he wore. His T-shirt was black too, and slightly too short, revealing a white slab of belly each time he moved. Inside Tesco, the student looked even odder. His