The Accident

by Dawn Goodwin

  ‘What you did last night’ – he paused, hurt etched into the lines of his face – ‘it was you taking out your anger by trying to hurt me, and I get it. But it has to stop. Both of us have to stop this, stop trying to punish ourselves, each other. I thought you were on the mend and that was my mistake. I was so wrapped up in my own grief, I was just trying to get through each day myself and I couldn’t prop you up as well. But I failed you. All of this is a cry for help – and I will help you, if you let me.’

  ‘There’s more,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I knew.’

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘I knew about the affair.’

  Grace

  Tabitha was being mean as usual. Every picture Grace drew was met with a spiteful comment. They had never liked each other, so why their parents thought they should play together all the time was weird.

  Right now, her dad and Felicity were downstairs talking about something ‘important’ apparently and they had been sent up to Tabitha’s room with snacks and instructions to ‘play nicely’, but that was never easy when Tabitha was in one of her moods.

  Today it was because her dad had said she couldn’t have her own pony. Grace didn’t know what Tabitha was making such a fuss about; she was allergic to horses anyway. But Tabitha liked to create a drama and Grace thought it was just to make the grown-ups uncomfortable, so that they got that panicked look on their faces, then generally they would give in and let her have whatever she wanted.

  Grace carried on colouring in her pretty montage of flowers and butterflies, ignoring Tabitha as much as possible. Pink, she needed more pink in this picture.

  She reached across the carpet for the raspberry pink pen, but Tabitha snatched it from her fingers.

  ‘I need it.’

  ‘Can I use it when you’re finished?’

  ‘Maybe; maybe not.’

  ‘Please, I want to finish off this butterfly.’

  ‘In that case, no you can’t.’

  ‘Why are you so mean?’ Grace could feel tears prickling behind her eyelashes.

  ‘Why are you such a goody two shoes?’ Tabitha wore an ugly scowl on her face. As quick as lightning, she reached over and pinched Grace hard on the arm. ‘You gonna cry now? Run to daddy? Go on, why don’t you go and see what they’re up to downstairs?’

  Grace didn’t want to cry in front of Tabitha because that usually made her worse, but her arm was stinging and she didn’t like the threatening look on Tabitha’s face.

  ‘My mummy and your daddy are in love, you know,’ Tabitha said in a low voice.

  Grace was confused. Daddy was in love with her mummy, not Tabitha’s.

  ‘No, they’re not.’

  ‘Yes they are. I saw them kissing.’ Tabitha started writhing on the carpet and making smooching noises.

  ‘Stop it! Don’t say that!’

  ‘It’s true! Maybe they’ll get married and you’ll have to come and live here with us.’ Tears streamed down Grace’s cheeks, but she didn’t notice. All she saw was the malevolent look on Tabitha’s face and she just wanted to wipe it away. She slapped her hard, then sat back on her hands, as though not trusting that they wouldn’t strike out again.

  Tabitha’s hand flew up to her cheek and she was stunned into blissful silence. It didn’t last long. She started screaming at the top of her lungs.

  Grace could hear footsteps thunder up the stairs and her dad and Felicity appeared in the doorway, both looking anxious.

  ‘What happened?’ Daddy asked.

  ‘Tabby, darling, are you okay?’ Felicity crouched down next to Tabitha and swept her into her arms.

  ‘She hit me, Mummy, really hard.’ Tabitha turned the volume up on her sobs.

  ‘Grace! Did you?’ Her dad looked at her with shock.

  ‘She was saying stuff, Daddy…’ Grace choked out, her heart feeling like it would implode when she saw the disappointment in her dad’s eyes.

  ‘Felicity, I am so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over her.’ He turned back to Grace. ‘You and I are going home right now and you need to explain yourself. But first, I think you have something to say to Tabitha, don’t you?’

  Grace turned wide eyes to Tabitha and mumbled an apology, before making her way downstairs with heavy legs. She was relieved to be going home, but her mind was doing somersaults trying to understand what Tabitha had said. Surely it wasn’t true. She could think of nothing worse than having to come and live with nasty Tabitha. And where would Mummy live? How much would she see her? She desperately clung onto the thought that Tabitha was lying just to be mean; it was the kind of thing she would do, after all.

  Grace went to get her shoes from the cupboard under the stairs and could hear her daddy and Felicity through the small gap in the staircase above her head, calming Tabitha who was in full pity mode now.

  ‘Tabby darling, you’ve had a shock. Go and lie on your bed with your favourite panda bear and I’ll bring you a lovely hot chocolate,’ Felicity was saying in a sing-song voice.

  ‘Can I have sprinkles, cream and marshmallows please?’ Tabitha replied in a woeful voice punctuated with repressed sobs.

  ‘Of course you can, my angel.’

  She heard her daddy and Felicity descend the stairs above her head, then they stopped halfway up and continued talking in hushed tones.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what that was about.’

  ‘Sounds like a cry for attention if you ask me, Tom.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her, find out what’s going on.’

  ‘And what about us? We need to finish our conversation.’

  ‘It’s finished, Felicity. I’ve explained to you, we can’t do this anymore. You and I need to go back to the way things were. I love V; you love Ian. We can’t be together any more. There’s too much at stake.’

  ‘But Tom, I…’

  ‘No, Felicity. Please, just leave it.’

  ‘You’ll change your mind, Tom, you always do. You’ll be back in my bed, holding me, kissing me.’

  Grace didn’t like the new tone of Felicity’s voice. It sounded like they did on the television when her mummy told her to cover her eyes at the soppy bits. And why were they talking about kissing? She crept quietly from the cupboard and peeped around the staircase.

  Felicity was stroking her daddy’s face like he was a dog in need of petting and it made her feel very confused and sad inside, her mind jumping to what Tabitha had said. She went back to her shoes and put them on as quickly as possible.

  Minutes later, her dad appeared behind her with a stern look in his eyes.

  ‘Right, madam, you have some explaining to do.’ He marched her out of the front door without a glance back at Felicity.

  As they walked away, he said, ‘What was that about?’

  Grace didn’t want to tell him what Tabitha had said, partly because she didn’t understand it herself. She wanted to talk to her mummy first, maybe she could help her understand it. ‘She wouldn’t let me have the pink pen,’ she replied instead.

  ‘That’s no reason to hit her. I know she can be difficult sometimes, but the better person will always ignore rather than reacting, Grace. Never hit, okay?’ He crouched down at her height in the street and he looked so much like the daddy who kissed her mummy goodbye every day that she burst into tears of confusion and shame.

  ‘Hey, hey, no need for that.’ He gave her a big, firm hug and carried her home. ‘Maybe you need some hot chocolate too.’

  *

  That night, Grace couldn’t sleep. All she could think about was Felicity, her daddy and the nightmare of having to live with Tabitha. She had visions of being made to sleep in their cupboard under the stairs like Harry Potter or having to clean horse poop off Tabitha’s riding boots every day like Cinderella. By the time morning came, she was feeling even more sad and confused, and knew she had to talk to her mummy about it.

  She dressed carefully and brushed her teeth before coming downstairs. Her mummy was sit
ting at the dining room table tapping on her laptop and talking into her mobile phone.

  ‘No, we need at least 500 hamburgers – there’s always a rush at the end of these things, especially if the bar has done well.’

  ‘Mummy, where’s Daddy?’

  Mummy placed a hand over the mobile mouthpiece and said, ‘He’s gone to work, Grace. Get yourself some cereal please,’ then carried on talking.

  Grace wasn’t hungry, but she did as she was told. She poured a handful of Cheerios into a bowl, then retrieved the bottle of milk from the fridge. It was full and very heavy, but she carried it carefully over to her place at the island.

  Her mummy had finished her phone call, but was still tapping away at the keyboard.

  ‘Mummy, can I talk to you about something?’ she said in a quiet voice.

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘It’s about Tabitha.’

  ‘Yes, your dad told me what happened. He’s right, you can’t go around hitting people, even if they are being mean,’ she said, her eyes still on the screen.

  ‘Well, it’s about what she was saying.’ She unscrewed the lid off the milk bottle.

  She heard her mummy sigh impatiently and finally look up from her screen. ‘I’m really busy with the arrangements for the school quiz night, princess. Is it important?’

  ‘I think so. She was saying stuff… about Daddy and Felicity.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘That they are in love and that I might have to move in with them and live there instead of here.’

  ‘Well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it? You live here with me and Daddy. She’s just trying to wind you up and because you reacted, she won, didn’t she? Now eat your cereal.’ She turned back to her computer.

  But Grace had the sudden feeling that this really was important and that she should try and get her to listen.

  ‘She said she’d seen them kissing. And I heard them talking yesterday in funny voices… Felicity said something about them kissing too and being in bed together and I know only people who love each other kiss, so…’ She stopped. Her mummy was watching her closely and she felt overwhelming relief that she had done the right thing when she saw a look of fleeting realisation pass over her mummy’s face. She had heard her this time.

  Then the look was gone and was replaced by anger.

  ‘That’s an awful thing to be saying to me, Grace. It’s simply not true. Felicity is a friend of ours and now you are being hurtful by saying such things. You’re as bad as Tabitha!’

  Her mummy’s harsh, shouty words made her start crying and she whipped her hand up to wipe her eyes, knocking the milk over in the process. It pooled out towards her mummy’s laptop as if in slow motion.

  ‘Grace!’ her mummy hollered. ‘Be careful!’

  Grace leapt from the chair, indignation colouring her vision, and ran from the room. She paused in the hallway, unsure where to go, as her mummy bustled in the kitchen wiping up the spill and muttering under her breath. Grace thought fleetingly that it would be great if the laptop was broken, then she ran for the front door. If Tabitha could do things for attention, then so could she. If she ran into the street, her mummy would have to follow her, wouldn’t she? Maybe then, she could get her to take her seriously.

  She grabbed the door handle and pulled it open before tearing off down the street in her bare feet. She could hear her mummy call to her, but she kept running, her vision blurred by tears and her brain clouded in confusion.

  Veronica

  ‘I remember watching her like it was all in slow motion, like I was swimming through quicksand to get to her. She reached the end of the street and stepped off the kerb into the road. I was almost there and I reached out a hand, but there was only empty air. There wasn’t a screech of brakes or anything like that, just a dull thud that I felt in every nerve ending of my body and a sudden quiet. Then a noise like a fox wailing, but it was coming from me.’

  Tom slumped onto the couch next to me, not saying anything, but processing it all.

  I sagged into myself, suddenly exhausted. Scarlet stood across the room, her hand covering her gaping mouth. Tears made her irises glisten.

  ‘But you said…’ Tom trailed off, then stood up with such force that I was thrown to the side of the couch as his weight shifted from my side.

  He started to pace in circles.

  ‘She didn’t see us, you know… did she?’ His voice was strangled.

  ‘No, no, she didn’t, but she needed me to listen and to believe her and I didn’t. I shut her down. I wasn’t there when she needed me.’

  A moment passed while he processed it all. ‘I need to understand this. You said something about a shop – I thought she was walking to the shop.’

  ‘I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. Cowardly, I know. And part of me didn’t want to admit it.’

  I stood and walked over to him.

  ‘I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me, but I am sorry.’ My voice cracked as tears left trails in my still made-up face.

  I could still see the conflict on his face, the angels and demons in his mind fighting to be heard and to lay the blame somewhere.

  ‘But I am as culpable as anyone then,’ he said.

  ‘That’s not why I’m telling you. If anything, I’m to blame for not being the mother she needed. Sometimes that is what I struggle to accept the most. I didn’t want to believe what she was saying about you and Felicity, but now I know she was telling the truth.’ I sat down heavily again, my legs not able to hold me up. ‘It was my job to look after her. It’s funny, I spent so many years worrying about her well-being, the food she was eating, whether the toys were educational enough, was she getting enough sleep. But in one second my lack of care ended up killing her. I have to live with that.’

  He came to sit next to me. ‘You can’t keep blaming yourself. I’m as much to blame as you. She should never have been in that situation and I put her there.’ I could see it was physically paining him to hear the role he had played. ‘But even so, it doesn’t change the fact that neither of us were driving the car. The police said he was going too fast, he was drunk. He didn’t even brake. He killed her, not you, not me. A sober person would’ve braked, would’ve been able to stop.’

  We sat in silence.

  Eventually, he said, ‘We’ve got to stop doing this to each other. Especially now, with the trial coming up.’

  ‘The trial.’ A chance to have it all replayed in a public arena; a chance for everyone to hear my culpability – up until now, I had refused to contemplate what that would be like.

  ‘Yes, the trial.’ His voice broke and quivered. ‘The bastard will be found guilty and we can start getting our lives back, can start trying to forgive ourselves.’ He looked down again. ‘Do you remember what you said to me on the morning of the funeral?’ His tears were flowing freely now.

  ‘No, I don’t remember the funeral at all,’ I admitted.

  ‘You said, Why couldn’t you save her? You’re a doctor and you’ve saved hundreds of others, why not her? And I couldn’t answer you, so you walked away and didn’t come back. I lost both of you that day.’

  ‘I don’t remember. I… that wasn’t fair of me.’

  He swiped at his tears, then pulled me into his arms. It felt strange and yet familiar. I felt stiff and unyielding, even though I wanted to fold into him.

  Eventually, he released me and I noticed Scarlet standing to the side of the room. I’d forgotten she was there.

  ‘So I should probably do the polite thing and introduce you to Scarlet now.’ In all the drama, Tom hadn’t noticed her.

  He looked puzzled. ‘Now?’

  I looked at Scarlet, who smiled back at me. I shrugged.

  ‘Well, it’s rude to carry on ignoring her,’ I said to Tom.

  ‘You’re right. You’re spending so much time with her, the least you could do is introduce me. When is a good time?’ He smiled wearily.

  My brain was obviously str
uggling to process the stress of the day on top of a monumental hangover and it was all starting to take its toll, because I wasn’t grasping what he meant.

  Feeling silly, I indicated Scarlet to my left, ‘Tom, meet Scarlet; Scarlet, my husband, Tom.’

  Scarlet approached him, her hand extended politely.

  He laughed, but didn’t take her outstretched hand, then stopped abruptly, studying my face. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said, head cocked to one side, his standard look when trying to figure me out.

  Scarlet lowered her hand, looking affronted.

  Up came my anger again, bubbling and roiling. ‘Tom, please. I know you’re hurt and angry, but it’s not like you to be rude to guests.’

  He didn’t look cross though, just bewildered. ‘You’ve lost me, Ron. Is she in the car? Go and get her then. There’s still tea in the pot.’

  I raised my hands in question and turned to Scarlet, who had sat down next to me dejectedly. ‘She’s right here, Tom.’ My voice rose an octave. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

  Scarlet was wriggling her fingers at him in a childish wave, like a three-year-old trying to attract her dad’s attention.

  ‘Ron, there’s no one there.’ His voice was low, his expression one of sudden realisation.

  The air in the room pressed in around me. The clock ticked on the mantelpiece and the ice-winged butterflies in my chest took flight again.

  ‘Of course there is.’ I frowned at him, the anger turning to embarrassment at his behaviour. This was so unlike him; he was normally the epitome of manners.

  Tom was pale. ‘What does she look like?’

  I was clearly missing a vital piece of a puzzle I didn’t know I was solving. Now it was my time to humour him. I sighed. ‘She’s beautiful, auburn hair, lovely heart-shaped face, the most bizarre choice in clothes… a beautiful wreck.’ I looked over and smiled at Scarlet, who stuck her tongue out at me. ‘She reminds of what Grace would’ve looked like,’ I whispered.