The Accident: A heart-stopping thriller with shocking secrets that will keep you hooked

by Dawn Goodwin

  ‘I know, I think I know which one you mean. My Maybelline looks very similar but was a quarter of the price of this one.’

  ‘How much better can a lipstick be for twice the price, you may well wonder?’ Her voice was light and conversational, but her eyes were hard.

  I still wasn’t sure what she was getting at. She twisted open the lipstick and examined the colour, frowning as she did so, turning it this way and that, then put the cap back on and returned it to its case.

  ‘Nah, not my colour. Too boring.’ It was a pinkish shade of brown and definitely something I would wear. Under her breath, she muttered, ‘Act normal, keep quiet. Just two ladies considering lipsticks…’

  What the hell was she thinking of doing now? I could feel sweat tickle my upper lip as I raced through various scenarios in my head.

  ‘Red – that’s more like it!’ she said a little louder. She picked up another version of the lipstick in what was subtly called ‘Crimson Pout’ and opened it for a closer look, rubbing some on the back of her hand to test the shade. It was bright, garish and in your face – perfect for her and not my usual taste at all.

  She handed it over to me, saying, ‘Try that. I think it could suit you.’

  I took it from her and opened it, testing it on my hand as she had done, a red slash of colour against my pale skin.

  Scarlet reached into my cavernous handbag, scrabbled around for a few seconds, and brought out a lipstick that was almost identical from the outside, but in a battered, dull and scratched gold case. The pattern around the edge of the case was slightly different, but that was the only discernible difference, apart from its used state.

  Then she said, ‘No, you’re right, not your colour at all,’ and casually slipped the old, used lipstick onto the display where the new one had sat, while simultaneously tossing the brand new version into my bag without flinching. My mouth dropped open, to which she commented, ‘You’re catching flies, Ron,’ with a wink. I snapped my mouth shut.

  Then she turned on her heel and began to meander between the counters towards the door. I followed her, shocked at her brazen act of retribution. At any moment, I expected a store security guard to drag me away for questioning and a strip search.

  Once we were clear of the store, Scarlet veered away from the shops and headed for the outside world.

  ‘There, they took your dignity, so I took something from them! You can thank me later.’ She giggled excitedly.

  I pulled the lipstick from my bag. The gold case rested cold against my palm like a bullet. I wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t like I had been physically assaulted or anything; I had merely had an argument with a manager about trying to squeeze too-small boots onto my legs. Then I started to giggle as the absurdity of it all – the boots, Jade, shoplifting – hit home and I realised I was strangely thrilled. The frisson of danger and drama had woken me up. My earlier exhaustion had dissipated and now I was buzzing like a tuning fork.

  ‘I think I should be buying you a drink, don’t you?’ I said, my fingers closing tightly over the lipstick.

  *

  It went completely against the grain for me to walk into a bar on a weekday afternoon and I was expecting lecherous stares from an all-male congregation, but in fact, of the smattering of men sitting like giants at tiny tables or propping up the long bar counter, no one gave me a second glance. They were all too intent on staring into their own drinks. There was no laughter or frivolity in the air, just the stale smell of beer and quiet resignation.

  Although the bar looked out over the river, Scarlet pointed out a table towards the back corner.

  ‘There’s a table over there. Make mine a double gin and tonic,’ she said and walked away. I was taken aback somewhat, then remembered that I had said I was buying. Her candour was something I would have to get used to if we were to be friends – and I realised that I wanted that very much. I had experienced more excitement and drama in one morning than I had in the last year – but the good kind of drama, not the kind that leaves you trembling and weeping on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night when the nightmares get too much. And I found myself enjoying not being alone.

  The barman was watching me carefully. ‘All right?’ he said as I approached.

  ‘Um, yeah, can I have two large gin and tonics please?’

  I looked away as he turned to pour the drinks, feeling self-conscious, and started fiddling with a cardboard drinks mat, bending it this way and that.

  ‘Ice and a slice?’

  ‘Er, yes please?’

  ‘Twelve pounds forty then please,’ he said, placing the drinks in front of me.

  I produced a twenty-pound note from my purse and handed it over. ‘Thanks, keep the change.’

  The barman raised an eyebrow, thanked me with a smile, and returned to wiping glasses.

  ‘Did I see you tipping the barman there? And rather generously, I might add,’ Scarlet teased as I returned with the drinks.

  ‘No, I, well…’ I could feel myself blushing. ‘I was worried about what he must think of us in here at this time of the day.’

  ‘Who gives a shit what he thinks?’ Scarlet replied, taking a huge swig of her drink. ‘Ah, nice.’ She placed the glass down on a coaster and, with one of her flourishes, said, ‘I think you’re going to be my pet project.’

  ‘Pet project? Why?’ I didn’t like the idea of being someone’s pet. It all sounded so subservient. But then, the former rebellious, defiant self of my youth had been tortured into submission of late, so that was pretty much what I had become. I still clutched the beer mat in my hand and took to bending and flexing it again.

  ‘Look at you! You’re a beautiful woman – I would kill for your hair’ – she reached out a hand and lightly stroked a curl near my ear – ‘and yet you act like a little mouse, hiding away behind your brown clothes, peering at people from beneath that long fringe. I think if we scratched the surface, it wouldn’t take long to expose your inner wild child. Everyone has one – and yours is crying out to be liberated.’ Her eyes flashed.

  I ran my finger through the condensation on the glass, before taking a sip of the drink. The gin was bitter on my tongue, but cold and refreshing, so I followed it with another, bigger sip.

  ‘I don’t know. I used to be more like you, I guess – independent, opinionated, up for a laugh – but that was a long time ago. Before kids. Now I’m just… well, I don’t know what purpose I serve anymore. Besides, we’ve already established today that I have fat calves and, to be honest, no one wants to see a middle-aged woman acting like she’s all that in her pointy boots when she isn’t. Did you see the way the barman looked at me when we walked in?’

  ‘Yes, with a glint of interest in his eye!’

  I pushed her playfully on the arm. ‘Er, no, it was more a you should be at home and does your husband know you’re here? look.’

  ‘Rubbish! He fancied you – and why not? You are beautiful, fat calves or not,’ she teased, ‘and I think a few weeks with me and you will be way more Ron and a lot less Veronica.’

  My drink was going down very smoothly now.

  I giggled. ‘What on earth would Tom say if he saw me in a bar drinking gin in the middle of the day?’ I said conspiratorially, although I’d be surprised if he noticed.

  ‘Who cares? That’s half your problem – you need to think more about yourself and less about other people’s opinions of you. There’s more to life than playing it safe to keep the neighbours happy.’ Scarlet necked some more of her own drink.

  ‘Sometimes I do feel like something is missing,’ I said, then stopped myself from continuing. I didn’t want to go there. I physically shook the thought away. ‘I’m not convinced I can be anything other than what you see: beige. I think you may be disappointed with what you find. I may be incorruptible.’

  ‘No one is incorruptible. Now get some more drinks in.’ Scarlet clinked her almost empty glass to mine.

  ‘I can’t – I have to think about Grace later.
See? Incorruptible.’

  ‘One more won’t hurt…’

  ‘Oh all right.’

  Felicity

  Sitting primly on her soft leather couch, she half-heartedly scrolled through her Facebook account on the iPad, catching up on the day’s social media activity. She had that familiar bilious feeling looking at all of her apparent ‘friends’ with their smug posts about their beautiful child geniuses and amazing days out with their families. Most of it was a crock of shit and they were likely sitting on their arses doing nothing except arguing, but on Facebook nothing is as it seems. She knew that as much as anyone.

  With a shake of her head, she threw down the iPad in frustration. Through the bay window, the sun was starting to set, the haze of dusk illuminating the dust settling on the windowsill. She hopped up and went into the kitchen to grab her duster. Returning to the lounge, she vigorously attacked the thin layer of dust, her pointy face a mask of determination. The artificial glare of car headlights through the window suddenly lit up her face and she hoped in vain that Ian had made it home before dark for a change and could go and pick Tabitha up from her dance class.

  It wasn’t Ian. Felicity could see Veronica trying to clamber out of a car she didn’t recognise and, considering that you could count on one hand how many times she left the house these days, Felicity’s curiosity was piqued. She leaned further into the window to get a better look.

  Veronica was taking a while to get out of the car. Eventually, the driver’s door opened and a man came around to help her out. Felicity frowned. Veronica was actually smiling to herself. She was also swaying slightly and Felicity felt a frisson of pleasure as she deduced that Veronica was drunk and trying to pull herself together before going into her house. The man got back into the car and drove off.

  Veronica fumbled with her keys, considering each one, holding them in front of her eyes one after the other, all the while smiling in the carefree manner of the intoxicated. After dropping the bunch, only to nearly fall over in the process of picking them up, she finally held up the right key, did a little victory dance and staggered to the door. She spent a few more moments trying to fit the key into the lock, before disappearing inside, tripping over the door frame in the process.

  Felicity grinned rapturously and knew the school run tomorrow would be that bit more interesting now. But more importantly, what would Tom make of all of this? His car was already in the driveway and Felicity wished she had front row seats to the confrontation that was about to play out next door. He hadn’t responded to her voicemail from the other day, but she knew he was spending most of his time at the hospital lately and it had probably just slipped his mind. She’d call him again tomorrow.

  Tom

  The sun was fading into evening when Veronica eventually stumbled into the kitchen and found Tom sitting at the table, worry etched into his eyes.

  ‘V,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘I was getting worried. Are you okay? Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. I just met a friend and we went out,’ she replied nonchalantly. ‘Why? It’s not late, is it?’ He heard the uncharacteristic challenge in her voice.

  ‘A friend?’ His suspicion was immediately palpable.

  A giggle escaped from her lips.

  ‘Are you drunk?’ he said, stepping closer and sniffing the air near her like a disgruntled headmaster. He detected perfume and a tang of something, maybe gin? That was fitting – ‘mother’s ruin’.

  ‘I dare say I am,’ she replied and giggled again, quickly followed by a small hiccup. Tom felt cold as he watched her reach a hand out to steady herself on the kitchen counter. ‘It’s been an absurd day – lost children; stuck boots; shoplifting; and now pissed on a school day.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ He stared at her with a tight frown, not sharing her amusement. ‘Bloody hell, V! I’ve been sitting here worrying about you, especially since you never leave the house these days, and you’re swigging wine and having a laugh. What do you mean about shoplifting anyway?’ His voice raised an octave in incredulity.

  ‘It was gin actually – and nothing… just something we saw…’ Her voice petered out.

  He shook his head and looked away.

  ‘Oh, come on Tom,’ she challenged. ‘Like you haven’t let your hair down before? I made a new friend the other day and we got chatting, and I like her. She cheered me up, so we had a couple of drinks. Look at me, I’m smiling for a change!’ She held out her arms in celebration.

  Tom had a sudden mental flash of Grace as a teenager and sunk, defeated, into a chair.

  V seemed to completely misread his sadness in her gin-sozzled state.

  ‘You know, you look damn sexy sitting there with your sensible tie and your salt and pepper hair. Still handsome after all these years.’ She sidled over to him.

  He could see she was trying to be seductive, but her face was loose, like she was melting under her thin mask of make-up.

  ‘You know, since I’m already drunk, you could take advantage of me, right now, here on the table,’ she said in her most alluring voice, interspersed with hiccups. She grabbed his tie in a none too gentle tug and attempted to loosen it with unsteady hands.

  He reached up and moved her hands away. ‘Now you’re embarrassing yourself,’ he said.

  ‘Come on, you used to like spontaneity.’ Giving up on the tie, she let her fingers trip over the tiny buttons on his pin-striped shirt.

  Tom pushed her fumbling hands aside with enough force to make her stagger backwards. ‘Veronica, enough! Why would I ever find you attractive in this kind of state? Go and sober yourself up.’

  She bit her lip like a naughty schoolgirl.

  ‘Thank god you didn’t drive. How did you get home anyway?’

  ‘Uber.’

  ‘Well, that’s something I suppose.’

  She sneered at him. ‘I wouldn’t make that mistake, would I?’

  Right now he didn’t recognise the woman in front of him. He moved away to lean on the sink, his head bowed and his shoulders sagging. The silence was absolute.

  She turned and left the room.

  *

  The altercation with V had unsettled him. In all the years they had known each other, she was not one for overt displays of affection, let alone literally throwing herself at him as she had just done, not to mention getting that drunk. He busied himself with preparing a simple pasta arrabbiata in the hope that something carb-heavy would soak up the booze and sober her up a bit.

  Pausing in the process of chopping onions, he tried to remember how long ago it had been since he had seen V with a drink in her hand and laughing. Maybe the neighbourhood Christmas Eve drinks last year? No, before that, because they hadn’t attended last year after everything that had happened. That dinner party just before their holiday last year? Either way, it was way too long ago and he felt a twinge at ruining her mood this evening.

  Maybe he had been too hard on her. How many times had he wished to have her back, like she was before? And the first day she shows some signs of life and he jumps all over her for it. But, he reminded himself, it wasn’t the drinking as much as the way she had looked. She seemed different… on edge. What had Felicity said in one of her voicemails? Something about seeing her in a shoe shop in a state?

  He pushed the thought from his mind, picked up the knife and carried on chopping, concentrating hard on the blade and not on the chill in his blood.

  Veronica

  A week passed and I saw nothing of Scarlet, but I wore a cloak of shame and self-recriminations for days, paranoid as I was over my drunken behaviour. My fragile ego got a lot of mileage out of it. Tom was hardly around that week. We had eaten in silence that evening in front of the television blaring a news programme full of sadness and destruction, then I had retreated nauseously to bed while he pretended there was more he wanted to watch. Although he had acted as normal the next morning, even stopping to tease me about my hangover while on his way out the door to work, he had a busy wee
k and spent more time than ever at the hospital, which suited me fine as I couldn’t look him in the eye after my embarrassing seduction routine had failed. I felt a wave of queasiness every time I thought about it.

  I could feel myself retreating again. My brief brush with friendship had been a welcome change to the norm and I had really enjoyed spending time with Scarlet, someone who couldn’t compare me to who I was before, but she would probably not want anything to do with me after the other day. I can’t remember her being as drunk as me. God knows what she must’ve thought.

  Then Friday rolled around with a lack of purpose. I had no idea what I would do with myself, apart from clean away more imaginary dust and lie on the couch watching reality TV stars embarrass themselves in the name of entertainment.

  That morning, I got up as usual, dressed for a run and kissed Tom goodbye like a dutiful wife as he headed out. I opened the door, then returned to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and some headphones. Behind me, I heard Felicity call my name.

  ‘Hey stranger.’

  I fought the urge to close the door in her face.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘You going for a run? I’m heading out too – we could go together.’ She was already stretching her arms above her head. The whole idea filled me with dread and made me want to crawl back to bed, especially since our last few meetings had been awkward to say the least.

  ‘I… er… I promised a friend I would go to the gym with her,’ I answered vaguely.

  ‘Really? Which friend?’

  ‘Just someone I met last week. She thinks more exercise would do me good, so I’m going to try a class with her.’

  ‘She’s right, of course. Didn’t I tell you that? Well, she sounds interesting – we should meet up some time.’

  ‘Sure, yeah.’

  An uncomfortable silence fell between us as Felicity began to stretch her hamstrings in her brightly coloured leggings, never once taking her eyes off me.