The Accident: The bestselling psychological thriller

‘Leave.’ She takes a step back into the hallway and begins to close the front door.

I press my hand against it to stop it being slammed in my face. ‘No, Judy, wait. Listen!’

‘No! You listen!’ The door swings open again. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to Charlotte, really I am but it’s not my fault and it’s certainly not Ella’s. Perhaps you should look a bit closer to home instead.’

I stand on the doorstep open-mouthed. And not just because Judy slammed the door in my face.

Sunday 15th October 1990 (#ulink_f84d9938-72c6-531a-b8e8-32320bb0af0e)

James and I had our first argument this evening. He and the rest of the theatre group popped by the bar, as they do every Sunday after rehearsals, and James took up his customary stool at the end. I said hello, got him a pint, gave him a kiss and got on with my job, just as I always do – having a bit of banter with Maggie and Jake, catching up on gossip with Kate and taking the piss out of Steve – but I could sense that something wasn’t right. Whenever I looked across at James, instead of reading his script or his book, he was staring at me with a sour expression on his face. I shot him a smile then pulled a face. When that did nothing to crack his frown I went over during a quiet spot to ask what was wrong.

‘You know,’ he said.

‘Know what?’

‘I shouldn’t have to tell you because you already know.’

‘If I knew I wouldn’t be here asking!’

He shrugged like I was an idiot and, thoroughly pissed off, I went off to serve someone else.

The next time I turned round to look at James he’d gone. I asked the others if he’d been in a bad mood during rehearsals. Far from it, they said. He’d been in fine form, practically bouncing across the stage.

‘I think someone’s in love,’ Maggie had winked.

I thought he was too; he’d been hugely affectionate this morning and had insisted on shagging me not once but twice before he’d let me get out of bed to have a shower. He’d even replied ‘soon’ when I’d asked him when we were going to spend an evening in his place instead of mine.

So what had changed?

I couldn’t wait for kicking-out time so I could put all the glasses in the dishwasher, wipe down the tables and get home to ring James. He didn’t pick up for eight rings and then:

‘Hello.’ His voice was devoid of emotion.

‘James, it’s Suzy.’

‘Hello Susan.’

That stung. He never called me by my full name.

‘Why were you so off with me in the bar tonight?’

‘You know.’

‘Actually no,’ I fought to keep the hurt out of my voice. ‘I don’t. That’s why I’m ringing because I’d like you to tell me.’

‘If you don’t know there’s no point discussing this.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Could you be more exasperating? James, please tell me why you were in such a bad mood or I’m going to put the phone down.’

‘Go on then.’

‘Fine.’

I slammed down the phone then stared at it, waiting for him to ring back. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. By twenty I was fuming and snatched the receiver back up.

‘Hello.’ Same flat voice from the other end.

‘What was it? Something I said? Something I did? Someone I talked to?’ James sighed and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. ‘Who? And if you say “you know” one more time I’ll never talk to you again.’

‘Steve.’

‘Steve Steve? Steve MacKensie?’

‘Yes.’

‘You were in a mood with me because I spoke to Steve MacKensie? That’s ridiculous. Why would you be jealous of him?’

‘No one said I was jealous, Susan.’

‘Then why—’

‘You were flirting with him. I saw you, leaning across the bar so he could look down your top.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t try and deny it. Everyone saw and I won’t allow the woman I love to make a laughing stock of me in front of my peers.’

‘Allow? What is this, the 1930s? And I wasn’t flirting with him, we were just bantering, like we always do.’

‘Then why was his nose in your cleavage?’

‘It—’ I let out a deep sigh. ‘This is ridiculous, James. Absolutely ridiculous. We were in bed this morning, lying in each other’s arms after the most amazing sex ever and I was telling you how much I love you and now you’re accusing me of …’ I shook my head. ‘Forget it. If you think I’d jeopardize what we’ve got, what we had to flirt with a second-rate actor then you’re more than a fool, you’re a …’ my eyes filled with tears. ‘Forget it, James.’

I slammed down the phone.

Less than a second later it rang. I let it ring nine times then picked it up. When I didn’t say anything James sighed.

‘I’m sorry, Suzy-Sue. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve just had a lot on my plate recently. I’ve got a few … personal things … I’m working through at the moment, things I haven’t talked to you about.’

‘Well, that’s no reason to take it out on me.’

‘I know and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You looked beautiful in the pub tonight. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you in that red top, your cleavage looks amazing, but it made me angry – when I saw other people admiring you too – because they have no right to ogle you like you’re a cheap piece of meat and—’

‘So you don’t want me to wear low-cut tops anymore? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes. No. No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m trying, clumsily, to say is that it was obvious to me that Steve was flirting with you because you looked gorgeous, and that made me angry – that your physicality was all that he could see. I’m not just in love with the way you look, I’m in love with the woman inside.’

I said nothing. I was still trying to make sense of what he was trying to say. I think he was finding fault with Steve rather than me so why did I feel bad, like I’d done something to encourage him by wearing the wrong thing or being overly friendly.