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

by Dawn Goodwin

  ‘Lucy…’ But before she could say anything more, Zara was back.

  ‘Bloody scooters. I hope the damn things get stolen,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Lucy, what are you doing?’

  ‘Jake-Jake wanted to get out,’ Lucy replied with big, innocent eyes.

  ‘I’ll say when he can and can’t get out, thank you very much.’

  ‘Now, now, now,’ chanted Jacob, fiddling with the harness.

  ‘Come on, you’re late.’ Zara steered Lucy towards the main gate.

  Felicity was pleased to see that the twins had sauntered in without a second glance back at Zara either.

  ‘Cyrus, Lucas, no goodbye today?’ Zara called after them. Kids were streaming in around them, shouting, laughing, pushing, but Zara stood firm, one hand holding Jacob steadfastly in his seat, and waited for her two oldest to lope back, hands in pockets. She gave each of them a quick kiss and a hair ruffle, got a smile back before they were swallowed into the foot traffic.

  Lucy still stood next to Zara, waiting patiently, needing more than a quick kiss. ‘Bye, Lucy-Lou, have a good day.’ She gave her a hug and a gentle shove away from her and watched her walk slowly towards the classrooms. Lucy turned and waved another three times before she was out of sight. Felicity envied her the closeness with her children to some degree; she would love it if Tabitha would just to look up from her phone now and again and acknowledge her.

  Zara sighed in relief and turned the pushchair around.

  ‘Right, one more to go, then I’ll walk back with you.’

  Felicity resisted swearing under her breath.

  They headed towards the separate nursery entrance where Jacob would spend the morning. Felicity suddenly felt exhaustion nipping at her Converses and she desperately needed a cup of tea to revive her from what had seemed like a constant battle of wills over breakfast this morning. She loved Tabitha, but she could suck the energy from her like a leech. Seeing Zara hadn’t helped – she managed to raise four kids a lot more effectively than Felicity could manage one, it would seem.

  Zara stopped abruptly and grabbed Felicity’s arm. ‘She’s there again.’

  Felicity followed her eyes across the road to where a woman was standing completely still among the throng of activity, seemingly oblivious to the people streaming around her. It was Veronica. She wore a look of vacant calm on her ghostly pale face that was unnerving and completely at odds with the cacophony of the children. As the masses of children thinned out, leaving a few latecomers to rush past, Veronica then turned and headed back in the direction of her house.

  Zara looked down at Jacob in his pushchair, then squatted down next to him and gave him a sloppy kiss.

  ‘God, I feel so sorry for her,’ she said, straightening up.

  This wasn’t the first time Felicity had seen Veronica on the school run, standing like a spectre, soaking it all up, as though breathing in the life and energy around her. The mums and dads had got used to seeing her and politely looked the other way now, but Zara obviously still felt some kind of empathy for her.

  ‘It’s getting a bit creepy though,’ Felicity replied.

  The first time she had noticed her was just after the accident and Felicity had approached her in the hope of escorting her back home, suggesting that she should take herself away from the prying eyes and whispered comments, but happy for the other mums to witness her fulfil her role as supportive best friend. Veronica had completely ignored her, turning to leave only once the last child had filtered into class. These days Veronica appeared two or three times a week, always in a soporific state, like a junky needing a fix.

  ‘Come on, that’s not fair.’

  ‘What? She must know what people say about her.’

  ‘I think most people get it,’ Zara replied pointedly. ‘She’s lost more than I can comprehend and is clearly struggling to come to terms with it and I don’t know how to help her.’

  ‘Zara, I’ve tried to help. As her oldest friend, it is my duty to help her, but she’s having none of it. She has completely withdrawn from me, Tom, everyone. I’ve tried cajoling; I’ve tried sympathy; I even thought a bit of tough love would break through, telling her straight that she needs to snap out of it, but she’s getting worse. It is completely exhausting and I’m worn out.’

  ‘I know you are. You’ve been a brilliant friend to her, better than I have anyway. I just feel so inadequate around her, like I’m flaunting my kids in her face or saying the wrong thing all the time, but it’s not about you or me.’

  ‘I’m so worried about her, I can’t tell you.’ Felicity lowered her voice conspiratorially as they carried on walking. ‘Between you and me, I think she’s losing the plot, you know, up here.’ She tapped her temple. ‘I think she’s getting to the point where she needs professional help, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘Look, it’s not for me to say as such, but we are her friends.’ They had reached the nursery gate. ‘We’ve all tried in our own way to support her, talk to her, lend her a shoulder to cry on, especially in the early days. Poor Tom is at his wit’s end. He spends most of his time at the hospital now. You know, it’s as though she doesn’t know what she needs herself, so whatever help you offer isn’t going to make any difference. She’s unreachable, cut off, and only a true old friend like myself can possibly get through to her because I know her so well.’

  ‘But why do you say she needs professional help? What has she been doing? She’s not hurting anyone.’

  ‘Yet.’

  Jacob was starting to struggle in his seat again, trying to free himself. ‘I need to get him into nursery. He’s getting niggly.’

  ‘You get on and take Jakey in. I have to get back anyway. But we’ll have a coffee soon and I’ll tell you more. You won’t believe some of the stuff…’

  ‘Sure, okay.’ Zara looked rattled. ‘I will tell you one thing: I won’t be shouting at my kids later. They can be moaning little brats, but they’re my brats,’ she said as she steered Jacob through the gate.

  ‘True,’ Felicity replied, sagely nodding her head.

  She walked away from Zara, humming to herself, the stress of the morning forgotten.

  Veronica

  I closed the front door on the noise of the morning streets and retreated back into the quiet mausoleum of my house. Almost immediately I felt a weight descend on my chest. Through the kitchen doorway, I could see the milk-soaked towel lying abandoned where I had tossed it earlier before I headed out on the school run. Without taking another step, I texted Scarlet and asked her if she could come over.

  She was there within five minutes. She didn’t knock to announce herself, but merely lifted the letter box flap and peered through the door to see me sitting on the stairs. The letter box clattered back into place and I dragged myself to the door to let her in.

  ‘Am I talking you down from a hangover or something worse?’

  ‘I just need a bit of company. One of those days.’

  ‘Worse then… right, let’s get the kettle on – or do you need a shot of brandy?’

  I didn’t answer and she walked ahead of me into the kitchen and started opening cupboards.

  After five minutes of unusual quiet while she pottered and I tried to shake the numbing chill hanging over me, she placed a hot mug of tea and a shot glass of brandy in front of me. She laid the same out in front of herself.

  Cautiously she said, ‘You’ve never really told me what happened last year – and I suspect that what you’re feeling now has something to do with that? But I’m not going to ask because you will tell me if and when you’re ready. Besides, I’m not here to be your therapist; I think of myself more as a form of active rehabilitation, if you will.’

  I felt a ghost of a smile on my lips at this thought.

  She took a sip of her brandy, then nudged mine towards my closed fist. ‘So your first step of rehabilitation is to knock that back.’

  I followed her lead, relishing the heat as it
filtered down my throat and immediately steadied me. No wonder they served brandy to people in shock.

  ‘Hey, anyway, did you bring my shoe?’ I asked.

  ‘What shoe?’

  ‘Last night? You carried one of my shoes when I walked home barefoot.’

  ‘Did I? I don’t remember to be honest. I don’t have it now though.’

  ‘Funny, I can’t find the other one anywhere and I remember us each carrying one.’

  I heard the doorbell ring, but didn’t rush to get it. It immediately rang again.

  ‘You going to get that?’ Scarlet asked with raised eyebrows.

  I shuffled off my seat and approached the door ominously.

  Felicity stood on the doorstep, looking particularly smug, albeit with flushed cheeks and a sweaty brow. She lifted her hand and I flinched involuntarily. From her extended finger dangled my missing shoe, which looked far worse now than it had when I had worn it the night before.

  ‘Morning Veronica.’ She skipped straight past the pleasantries. ‘I found this when I was out on my run this morning. It’s yours, isn’t it?’

  She didn’t wait for a reply.

  ‘I recognise it from the night you hosted that dinner party last year? You were wearing a pair just like them and I admired them at the time because they were so unusual and elegant. Not so pretty now, are they?’ She rotated the shoe in front of my eyes, just in case I couldn’t see it closely enough. The heel was broken and the leather torn with what looked like bite marks on the toe. It had clearly been mauled by a creature in the night. I looked over my shoulder to see Scarlet hovering in the kitchen doorway, listening to every word.

  ‘So I was running down the alley that leads to the park and I saw it lying in the dirt, looking very pitiful, and I didn’t want you to wonder where it was, so I cut short my run and thought I would bring it over.’

  I wanted to slap the self-righteous amusement off her face. My hands clenched at my sides. I could imagine her sprinting over here as fast as her bony legs could carry her, knowing she had one over on me. She had well and truly won this round. Now I had to decide how to handle it. Slamming the door in her face (and hopefully catching her with the door knocker) was looking like a good option so far.

  ‘Can I come in? I haven’t seen you in ages?’ She moved to push past me, but I pulled the door towards me to block her.

  ‘Er, no, it’s not a good time. I have a friend here.’

  Her eyes narrowed. She was straining her neck to see beyond me. ‘I saw you earlier. I was walking with Zara.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You need to stop doing this, Veronica. People are gossiping.’

  ‘Let them.’ I started to close the door on her, but she was still talking.

  ‘So when did you lose this then? Sounds like there’s a story there. You must’ve noticed you weren’t wearing it? They are beautiful shoes – well, were beautiful…’ Her thin eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline.

  I stole another glance over my shoulder, expecting Scarlet to wade in and give Felicity a piece of her volatile mind, but she was giggling into her hand so much that she couldn’t speak. That set me off and the anger evaporated into bubbling laughs. I took the shoe that she was still dangling in front of me and turned it this way and that, inspecting the damage and hooting even louder.

  ‘Must’ve been a fashion-conscious fox!’ I heard Scarlet chortle behind me.

  ‘I must say, Felicity,’ I managed to choke out, ‘the fox that nicked it has fabulous taste in shoes.’

  Her face was a picture of bewilderment. She had clearly hoped to leave me rattled with her discovery and her face dissolved into anger at my reaction.

  My cheeks were starting to ache.

  ‘You should head home to the shower, Felicity. I’m not sure if it’s you I can smell or if the fox pissed in my shoe, but there’s definitely a whiff of something.’

  With that, I closed the door on her astonished face.

  Our laughter was uncontrollable then, to the point where my sides groaned to stop. It had been a very long time since I had felt that kind of liberated, happy ache from laughing too much.

  When we had managed to gulp some air back, we flung ourselves down on the couch in the lounge, completely sated.

  It didn’t take long for the mirth to be swallowed by my paranoia. ‘Oh my god, did I really say that to her?’

  ‘You did and I am immensely proud.’

  ‘She’s going to ruin me at the school gates this afternoon.’

  ‘So what? Do you really give a shit?’ She grabbed hold of my hand. ‘And look at you. You are so different from that meek, timid mouse I saw in the supermarket that day. I remember how horrified you were that I had dared to speak to you.’ She sat forward and looked at me earnestly. ‘This is the Ron I like – the one who is starting to realise that she doesn’t have to be the victim any more. The one who stands up for herself and is getting some of her fight back.’

  I knew she was right, but I was also scaring myself. I didn’t feel like I was moving forward as such; more like I was lurching from side to side. Every day I woke up thinking today would be different, I would start to feel better and less like I needed to remind myself to breathe, walk, eat. I had gone from numb inactivity to bouts of recklessness and I felt more unstable than ever. What kind of woman ventures out, gets drunk and loses a shoe to a fox on a school night?

  But then I had to acknowledge the fact that my sides were aching and my cheeks were stretched, that I had laughed until I had cried on a few occasions in the last few weeks, that last night I had danced as though no one was watching. Six months ago I was comatose in comparison and barely able to pull myself out of bed.

  ‘You’re right. Fuck ’em.’

  ‘Attagirl,’ she said as she flung her arm around my shoulders. ‘What’s the story with you two anyway?’

  ‘Who? Me and Felicity?’

  ‘Yeah. I can’t figure you out. You say you’ve been friends a long time, but you wouldn’t think it to look at you. You’re like cats circling each other.’

  ‘It’s a complicated relationship.’

  ‘I’d say.’

  ‘We met on the first day of uni. We were allocated as roommates and at the time neither of us knew anyone else, so we stuck together. Then we met Tom and Ian, her husband, and the four of us have been together ever since. When we were younger, I didn’t question the dynamic between us. I guess it was easy to be friends with her and to fill the role I was supposed to play. But things change, people change and now the friendship has run out of steam.’

  ‘She doesn’t seem your sort at all. I can’t imagine having a laugh and a drink with her.’

  ‘We’ve certainly had a laugh together, sure, especially when we were younger and didn’t have kids, but our conversations have never been casual as such. If I was drinking, she’d be counting how many glasses I’d had and pointing out the calories in the bag of chips I’d scoff on the way home. She’s not one to do things for the hell of it. It’s like we are opposing magnets pushing and pulling against each other. She’s bloody competitive and she almost sees me as a rival rather than a friend, but I’ve tried not to indulge her. I’d rather back off than take her on, not because I think she could outdo me, but because I don’t want the fuss really. We would have our battles at uni when I didn’t back off and some of them were really nasty, but we always seemed to gravitate back to each other.’

  ‘Why though? Why let her try and get one over on you?’

  ‘Because I figured that was the way she was and sometimes it made me feel like the bigger person, you know? Does that sound awful? And sometimes you stay with someone out of habit more than anything else. I know, that sounds even worse.’

  ‘No, I get what you’re saying.’

  ‘Lately, I don’t have the energy for all the head-butting and I couldn’t care less about being the better person any more. When we had the girls, the differences between us seemed to magnify and I realised that
just because I knew she was dominating me, that didn’t make it acceptable. I noticed that when we were out with other friends, she would talk over me in conversations or contradict what I was saying just to be argumentative, because she needed to be right and needed me to be wrong in order to boost her own confidence. My other friends would tolerate her because of me, which made me feel guilty. It’s like she’s used me to make herself feel better. Other stuff too – moving in next door, how that came about… It can be suffocating, but you can’t just throw away a friendship that has lasted as long as ours. Tom and Ian are still best friends, which complicates things. That and the fact that I’ve always been a little bit scared of her.’

  ‘Well, you don’t need to be boosting anyone else’s ego except your own. She can find another victim to bully, because now I’ve got your back.’

  Strange, but I felt only tenuously comforted by this.

  *

  Later that afternoon after Scarlet had left, I sat thinking about what she had said about how much I had changed since meeting her as I sobered up over a cup of tea and a biscuit. I was starting to get snatches of my former life back and I knew I had some way to go to fix what was ailing Tom and I, but that seemed a good starting point. I had seen his hurt expression when he had left that morning, but sometimes I couldn’t stop myself from pushing him away. I missed him though.

  With that in mind, I decided to get back into the kitchen, make Tom a nice dinner, we could chat about whatever had been going on at his work and I could tell him some more about Scarlet – maybe. He may even find the fox story amusing.

  I found some steaks buried deep in the freezer, put some jacket potatoes in to bake, and whipped up a mushroom and cream sauce – all Tom’s favourites. Although I had knocked back a couple of brandies with Scarlet, I popped a bottle of white wine in the fridge and made sure there were some beers chilling.

  As the evening wore on and the preparations distracted me, I found I was actually looking forward to dinner. It had been ages since we had spent any sort of quality time together and I knew that was mostly my fault. But then he hadn’t exactly reached out to pull me back as I drew away. Even so, one of us had to make the first move, so with Scarlet’s voice in my head, I went upstairs to change into something moderately less bland, making sure I crept past Grace’s bedroom door as quietly as I could.