The Accident

by Dawn Goodwin

  Minutes passed, but I lay where I was, not moving, struggling to pull in breaths through the fabric of the cushion, but perversely enjoying the suffocation.

  All at once, I had the overwhelming feeling that someone was in the room with me. My skin prickled as though eyes were tiptoeing over my skin. It took me a minute to react, scared of who I would see, but close behind the fear was hope that I would see her.

  I slowly lifted my head and looked towards the lounge doorway, but it was empty, the room quiet, the air unmoved. I wanted to weep at the flood of disappointment that washed over me and I went to bury my face again, but heard a subtle noise in the hallway, the scuff of a door or a shoe perhaps.

  This time it was pure fear that prickled through me. Was there someone in the house? Had I closed the front door properly behind me? Was the back door locked?

  I lay still and quiet, my ears reaching above the sound of my pulse. But there was nothing to hear. The feeling of being watched dissipated, replaced by doubt at whether I had heard anything at all.

  *

  She is lying face down on the couch, as unmoving as the dead. I am so close to her I could reach out and push her face further into the pillow if I wanted to, hold her down, put her out of her misery once and for all.

  That’s what friends are for, surely? To help in times of need? To clear a way forward when you cannot see it? She may not know it, but my eyes are wide open and she needs a nudge in the right direction. Liberation.

  My hands reach out and hover above her scalp, suspended in indecision. I can imagine her thrashing as my arms strain to hold her down, my breathing quickening as hers slows.

  No, not yet. Patience. It’s too easy. My hands pull back and I retreat soundlessly from the room. Focus on the matter at hand.

  Her running shoes are lying in the middle of the carpet, abandoned. I pick them up and put them neatly to the side. Behind me is a door to a small cupboard under the stairs, full of winter coats and the pungent aroma of well-worn shoes. I pull the photograph from my back pocket and ease open the door, my eyes searching. I recognise the bag I’m looking for pushed towards the back behind dusty yoga mats and tennis rackets. Teasing back the zip, I push the photograph into the bag, then pull the door closed behind me.

  Satisfied for now, I pause again in the lounge doorway. She has not moved and I have to again fight the urge to suffocate her. Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.

  I notice her stiffen, so I retreat and head towards the open back door.

  *

  I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face. The room grew sombre as clouds sauntered in front of the sun. My earlier urge to run was now a distant memory, but part of me wanted to get out of the house, away from the ghosts hiding in the corners and the walls closing in.

  I dragged myself to my feet and headed back into the hall. As I reached for my shoes, I froze. I was sure I had left them where they had dropped, but now they were set neatly to the side. I cast a quick glance down the hallway towards the back door. It was closed, as was the front door. I shook the paranoia away. I must’ve tidied them without noticing.

  Outside the front door, a fine drizzle had started to fall and my enthusiasm ebbed again. My mood was swinging like a pendulum. I cast my eyes around in case Felicity was still lurking nearby and I caught a flash of neon up the street. I went to duck back inside but saw, as she drew nearer, that it wasn’t Felicity after all, but Scarlet. I hesitated, my recent drunken behaviour still playing on my mind. She ran over enthusiastically.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ I replied tentatively.

  ‘Good, thanks. What about you? It’s been ages.’

  ‘Um, I’m fine, I guess. What are you doing here?’ I sounded accusatory, probably due to the chill of paranoia lingering in my blood.

  ‘I was walking to the bus stop at the end of your road, heading to the gym, if you can believe that.’

  ‘Oh, right. Listen, I’m so sorry about my behaviour last week. So wrong of me to get that drunk on a weekday afternoon. It’s not normal behaviour for me, promise,’ I rushed at her.

  ‘Don’t be daft! I had an absolute ball. You are so funny.’ She smiled honestly at me. ‘Where are you off to then?’

  ‘I was going for a run, but this weather isn’t motivating me much now.’

  ‘Hey, come with me to the gym! It’ll be more of a laugh than running. You can use one of my free passes if you’re not a member.’

  I laughed at the coincidence.

  ‘What? Is the idea of me in a gym funny?’

  ‘No, not at all! It’s just – it’s silly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I saw my neighbour this morning who wanted me to run with her and I just couldn’t face it. Anyway, I made up an excuse that I was heading to the gym with someone else. It’s just a bizarre coincidence, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I prefer to think of it more as a sign, so grab your stuff and let’s go.’

  I was already a member of the gym she was referring to – we signed up to a family membership when Grace was younger and did swimming lessons there. I hadn’t been in years, but Tom still went regularly. From what I remember, it would be a hive of familiar faces after the school run, but if Scarlet was with me, she could be my armour.

  ‘Okay, let’s go, but I’ll drive – no need for the bus. I have a gym bag somewhere inside, let me just grab it.’

  I hurried back into the house and quickly gathered up a change of clothes from upstairs. I had last seen my gym bag in the cupboard under the stairs – our ‘Harry Potter cupboard’ as Grace called it. Retrieving it, I noticed the zip was open. Strange, since it had been a long time since I had needed anything in it. I checked to make sure there was a towel and toiletries for afterwards, then shoved my clothes in and zipped it back up before heading out with Scarlet.

  The gym car park was indeed full of spotlessly clean 4x4s as predicted. We walked through the café, me keeping my eyes averted, Scarlet striding with purpose. Outside the studios, a noticeboard listed the various forms of torture on offer.

  ‘What about Zumba?’ Scarlet suggested.

  It was an immediate no for me; I needed torment, not celebration.

  ‘Okay, spinning or Body Combat then,’ she suggested next.

  A voice called out my name over my shoulder and I turned to see Penny, clad head to toe in perfectly accessorised mauve Lycra. Just the kind of person I had hoped to avoid.

  ‘Veronica, what a nice surprise! You doing a class? It’s a great stress-buster, I must say. I’m sure it will do you the world of good.’ Did everyone have to tell me that? ‘Which class are you doing? I’m off to spinning.’

  I took one look at Scarlet and said, ‘Body Combat I think.’

  ‘Oh, well, enjoy. Must dash, I like to get a bike near the front.’ She waved her fingers vaguely at me as she sauntered up to the studios, but couldn’t help a backwards glance at the top of the stairs, probably to check if I was backing out and going home, before reporting her findings to the playground police.

  ‘Body Combat it is!’ Scarlet led the way.

  As we walked through the door into the studio, I headed to the back, but Scarlet had other ideas.

  ‘I’ll never see back there. Come on, there’s room up front. Let’s show these ladies – and one man’ – she stared pointedly at a middle-aged man in very tight football shorts with socks pulled up to his mid-calves – ‘what we can do, eh?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I replied. ‘I’m not that co-ordinated and really don’t want to stick out.’

  ‘Nonsense – let’s go.’ She pulled me into position right in front of the muscled, blonde instructor who was bent over an elaborate sound system, her pert neon bottom providing great advertising for her class.

  Hi-tech microphone headset and fake smile of encouragement in place, the instructor hit play and loud club music began to belt out of the speakers, vibrating the floorboards beneath our feet. The instructor shouted above the beat, inquiring about i
njuries and abilities, and pretending to be interested in each of us. Then she started the warm-up.

  I looked over at Scarlet as I started to move and knew straight away that this was not going to end well. Scarlet took high energy to a whole new level and was so uncoordinated that I felt positively graceful next to her. She wasn’t fazed one bit though. She bounced, punched and kicked her way through the hour-long class without a care in the world, with the odd whoop of joy that left me cringing, but laughing too. Everyone else in the class was too politely caught up in their own movements to care, but it had been ages since I had enjoyed exercise as much. Her enthusiasm pushed me to let go, and by the end of the class I was high-kicking and whooping along with her. She even threw in some inappropriate jazz hands for good measure, which made me keel over with mirth.

  Afterwards, as we filed out of the studio, dripping in sweat and guzzling water, she turned to me with a huge grin, saying that she had had the best fun ever, and I felt huge affection for her at that moment.

  Scarlet noticed one woman and her friend who were particularly interested in us, throwing looks and whispering as they walked past.

  ‘Seems we were a hit with some people,’ she said to me under her breath. ‘And I don’t mean in a good way.’

  ‘Why? What’s she saying?’ I could feel the edges of my good mood dissipating.

  ‘Let’s just say it’s not complimentary. I have a good mind to trip her up on the stairs.’ Scarlet’s voice was low and edgy.

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ I replied, cold goose bumps creeping over my warm skin.

  ‘I can’t be doing with snide, under-breath comments, just because they don’t have the guts to say anything to our faces! We weren’t that bad. There’s no point in doing something if it’s not going to be fun, so we made it fun.’

  ‘Just ignore them. Come on, let’s go,’ I said, corralling her towards the stairs.

  As we passed them, Scarlet suddenly grabbed hold of the water bottle in my hand and squeezed it so that a jet of cold water shot out and hit one of the women on the naked shoulder.

  She shrieked and turned to glare even more at us. I hurriedly said, ‘So sorry, didn’t realise it was open,’ before hurrying Scarlet down the stairs and out of harm’s way. ‘Scarlet!’

  ‘What? Just cooling her down,’ she said innocently, but with the same steely look in her eye as she had had that day in the department store. Then in a flash it was gone and she was saying, ‘Right, quick coffee before we go?’ as we headed into the changing room.

  *

  The changing room seemed to be full of shouting mothers and screaming kids. I could feel my blood pressure rising with every niggling, pocket-sized voice.

  I wriggled out of my sweaty Lycra and straight under my towel. Scarlet threw everything off, grabbed her towel in one hand and strode proudly towards the showers in all her naked glory while chatting away over her shoulder. She was completely at ease with herself and I envied her lack of inhibitions.

  I stood under the hot shower spray, listening to her singing in the cubicle next door, and for a split second I hated her. Her blithe carelessness and refusal to consider the consequences of her impulsive behaviour showed a woman who had never had to face up to reality, had never had a real problem creep up and tap her on the shoulder to see if she could handle it. Then I hated myself for thinking that way and for being jealous. Why would I wish this on someone who had been nothing but nice to me so far? The hand she had been dealt in life may well have been luckier than mine, but that was the nature of the beast. Besides, how much did I really know about her history?

  I felt worse about myself, at how quickly I had wished ill on such a seemingly kind person. I could hear a child laughing beyond the steamed glass and all I wanted to do was crouch down on the tiled floor and stay there until the water ran cold. Instead, I turned my face up to the spray and cranked the water temperature up a notch until it was scalding. The bullets of stinging water helped to bring some clarity back. Once the child had left, I forced myself to turn off the taps and emerged from the safety of the cubicle.

  Wrapped securely in my towel, I returned to where we had left our bags. Scarlet was also out of the shower, but still standing completely naked and unaware.

  ‘You took a while,’ she said with a frown.

  I shrugged non-committedly and turned away from her. There were only a few other women near us, but her nakedness was making me feel uncomfortable and exposed.

  While I struggled into my jeans, I heard an unfamiliar buzzing noise and turned to see Scarlet with an epilator in her hand. I watched in shock as she propped her leg up on the bench and began to epilate, still completely naked. She chatted away as though this was the most natural thing in the world to be doing in front of strangers and was oblivious to the stunned look on my face.

  Legs akimbo, she carried on until both were smooth. I was considering objecting if she started on her bikini line, but she turned it off, ran a hand down her leg to check for patches, and began to slather body cream generously over her skin, all the while chatting exuberantly about everything from celebrity scandals to her latest purchase of a pair of leather-look jeans.

  My shock abated and I found myself considering her in a new light, my earlier flash of jealousy forgotten. This was what I should aspire to be. So life had thrown me some bad hands, but I needed to shrug them off and show that I wouldn’t be beaten. I needed to start asking myself: What would Scarlet do?

  ‘You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?’ I heard her say then, annoyance clouding her face.

  Still in the throes of my revelation, I felt an overwhelming surge of love for this wanton creature and I grabbed her to me in a tight bear hug in all her naked glory.

  ‘Steady on there,’ she said in surprise. ‘What’s that for?’

  I shrugged. ‘Because you’ve made me realise something – and I’m very grateful.’

  ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘That I need to let my hair down a bit more,’ I said with a smile.

  Scarlet raised her eyebrows, ‘Sounds like trouble – but I like it!’

  *

  That afternoon when I returned home, I felt good walking through the door. I made a cup of tea, turned on the radio and found myself humming along to the song that was playing as I pottered in the kitchen. I was surprised to see my reflection smiling when I looked out of the window into my overgrown garden.

  It was now a cold, damp day, with autumn beginning to whisper through the trees, but that wasn’t going to burst my bubble. I realised then how much I craved the company of a good, honest friend and, although Scarlet and I hadn’t known each other for long, I felt a connection with her. When I was with her, I didn’t want to be the guilty shadow dancer any more. But experience had also taught me to slow down and tread carefully. A momentary flash of rebellion can end in a lifetime of regret and hurt.

  I could hear my mobile phone chime in the hallway as a text message came through. I wandered through to where I had tossed my gym bag. Fishing around inside it, my hand fell on a piece of paper stuffed towards the bottom and I drew it out curiously.

  It was a photograph taken against a bright blue sky. Tom, Grace and myself were smiling happily into the camera, seemingly without a care in the world. It was from our holiday last year when we decided not to go to Cornwall with everyone else. Well, Tom decided. He wanted a holiday just the three of us. Who knew it would be our last family holiday. I wasn’t sure how the photo had found its way into my gym bag, but there was a mark across Grace’s face where the wet towel had damaged the paper. I stared at the rippling damp patch, feeling my throat tighten and a hand of panic close around my neck.

  All at once, the memories were tangible: sickly-sweet strawberry ice-cream drips that dotted our path as we walked along the beachfront; coconut suntan cream spread in stripes across a button nose; salty sea air mingling with the aromas of garlic and lemon from open restaurant doorways.

  I suddenly d
ropped the photo, as though it had scalded me. It floated gently onto the carpet and lay face down, but I couldn’t erase the imprint behind my eyes. The three of us were so unaware of what was to come.

  I had tucked this photograph away in my bedside drawer afterwards when looking at it became too much, so how had it got here?

  My ears filled with her childish giggles and seagulls shrieking, before morphing into the insistent message tone on my phone. I thrust my hand back into the bag as though I was reaching into a sack of scorpions.

  I had two messages. One was from Tom, saying he’d be late home from his conference. There’d been a few more conferences and evening meetings than usual of late, but I refused to consider the implications. The other text was from Scarlet. It was short and to the point:

  Drinks round yours – what number are you again?

  followed by a demonic smiley face emoji. The pendulum swinging wildly again, I suddenly felt giddy in the face of another coincidence where Scarlet was coming to my rescue, which was almost immediately replaced with self-recriminations when I realised how pathetic it was to be so thrilled by a mundane text message.

  The self-pity then dissolved into panic as I realised this would be the first time Scarlet had come inside the house. Was it clean and tidy? Did I even have a drink to offer her? God, I was a mess.

  Stepping over the photo on the carpet, I strode into the kitchen and swept my eyes over the room. Everything was neat, tidy, orderly. I knew I was being ridiculous. The ironing was done and packed away; the counters were clean; the oven sparkled; the dishwasher was loaded. There were no toys on the floor or Lego underfoot in the play area at the far end of the room. Even the felt-tip pens were capped and arranged in colour order in their cases, Disney DVDs were alphabetised, books were stacked and waiting for small hands to open and enjoy them. Of course it was; it was all I spent my time doing now.