Accidents Happen (12 page)

‘Thanks.’ She nodded, taking it and gesturing him towards the end of Broad Street. ‘It’s this way.’

The man took his bike by the handlebar, and pushed it alongside her.

‘I’m Kate, by the way,’ she said, holding out her hand.

‘Pleased to meet you, Kate,’ he said, taking it. She liked his voice. It was relaxed and friendly, each word confidently enunciated, as if he were in no rush to finish it off before heading to the next one.

She looked at him shyly. ‘So, what
are
the chances of this? How would an expert in probability explain this, then? Meeting a stranger twice in one day?’

They crossed back into Holywell Street, past a row of seventeenth-century terraced cottages with heavy, studded oak doors and fairytale windows.

‘Ah – well, let’s see,’ Jago said. ‘Where do you live?’

She pointed ahead of her. ‘Where we’re going. East Oxford?’

‘OK. And I’m staying here at Balliol, back there.’ He pointed behind him to the college next to Trinity. ‘So we work and live and shop within, what, a mile or two of each other? I’ve been here for eight weeks. We probably pass within twenty yards of each other every few days. It’s just today, we recognize each other’s faces.’ He paused as if he’d had a thought. ‘Now – that’s actually a good project for one of my lazy undergraduates. Pick a stranger in the centre of town, and see how many times you see them again in a fixed period of time. I should make them do it just to get them out of their bloody beds in the morning.’

Kate smiled. ‘Do you mind if I ask why you are in Oxford? If you teach at Edinburgh?’ They turned into the long curve of Longwall Street, back towards Magdalen Bridge.

He shot her an appraising look. ‘Good question. Actually, I’m on a one-term guest lectureship. Because of the book.’

‘Really?’

‘Uhuh, well, you know, there’s a trend at the moment for popular books about science and maths, written by academics. Brian Cox on the universe, that kind of thing?’

She nodded. ‘My son Jack loves them.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Nearly eleven.’

‘Good for him. Well, there you go. This idea about chance and probability is big news right now, especially in the States – I taught there for a while, by the way, in North Carolina.’ Kate nodded. ‘Anyway, it gives the university a bit of kudos when you write a bestseller. Suddenly everyone wants a bit of you. So here I am, enjoying my fifteen minutes of fame.’

Kate smiled. It was so long since she’d walked along chatting to someone like this. A stranger. Desperately, she stumbled around for something else to say. ‘And do you like it? Or do you miss Edinburgh?’

‘I do. I particularly miss the rain.’

‘Really?’

‘No.’

She glanced sideways at him, confused. She shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

‘No – don’t apologize. I’m being an arse. Seriously? I like the students here. They keep you on your toes. What about you – what do you do?’

Kate went to speak, but Jago held up his hand. ‘Hang on. Let me guess . . .’

She shut her mouth again and waited.

He screwed up his eyes as if thinking. ‘OK . . . The person who injects new ink into recycled ink cartridges?’

His question took her by such surprise that Kate laughed out loud. She couldn’t believe the sound. It was so unfamiliar. It sounded like a shriek.

‘No?’ he continued, as she tried to gather herself. ‘Let me think. Detective superintendent?’

Kate giggled again, unable to stop herself.

‘OK. Greek Orthodox wedding planner?’

‘No!’

He winked. ‘You see, eventually if I go on, I’ll get it. That’s probability for you.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, actually, I do some project managing for a historical renovation company,’ she said, checking for cyclists in the bike lane before they crossed at the end of Magdalen Bridge. ‘And I run a foundation attached to it to help kids from deprived backgrounds get into architectural studies and renovation work.’

‘Do you, now?’ Jago said, looking impressed. ‘Good for you. I should tell my sister about that. She teaches in a big inner-city school.’ He mimed a muscleman. ‘You should see her. Five foot, and feisty as shit. But she’s always saying it’s hard for some of the kids to get a break.’

Kate nodded. She liked the way he spoke about his sister. It reminded her of Hugo.

They stopped at the end of the bridge, and she looked ahead.

Damn.

They would be across the roundabout in a minute, then into Iffley Road. The bike shop was just beyond the junction. They were nearly there, and then he would be gone.

‘Jago,’ she blurted out. ‘Do you mind? Can I ask you something? About the book again?’

‘Uhuh.’

‘You know what you said earlier, about flying with dodgy airlines? That you put it out of your mind. Can I ask you how do you do that?’

He stopped outside an Indian restaurant just before the bike shop, and scratched the stubble on his chin. She looked up at him. He was different physically to Hugo. A few inches shorter, at around six foot, and lean and muscular, where Hugo had been broad like Richard, with the first softness around his stomach thanks to all that good red wine. As Kate looked at Jago, her eyes fell behind him to their reflection in the window of the restaurant. If you were driving past right now, this is what you would see, she thought. They looked like a couple. The image of her with a man again was so strange, she couldn’t stop glancing at it.

She saw his face become more serious.

‘Well, what I meant is that you can’t control these things. You can make an educated guess that might lower or increase your chances of something happening, but in the end, you can’t control everything. Nothing in life is certain apart from the fact that we’re all going to die. You can spend all day trying to work out which is the safest airline, then choke on a peanut in the departure lounge. And, personally, I feel life’s too short. Don’t know about you, but I’d rather be lying on a beach somewhere.’

He regarded her with his intense blue eyes.

There was a spark of interest in them she hadn’t seen earlier. She lowered her eyes self-consciously.

‘Well, this is me,’ he said, stopping outside the bike shop. ‘It was nice to meet you, Kate, and I hope you enjoy the book. But don’t take it too seriously. Remember, it is meant to be a bit of fun.’

‘I won’t,’ she lied, knowing that the minute she left him she would go straight to the juice bar and rip it open.

‘Anyway, as we’ve now established, I expect I’ll bump into you again.’ He touched her on the arm pleasantly, and walked off. Kate felt alarm rising, as he went to go into the shop.

She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet.

‘Jago?’ she called, not even knowing what was coming next.

He turned.

She searched in her head frantically. ‘Listen, if you’re new to Oxford . . . you know, I’d be happy to show you round. Jack and I only moved here a few years ago ourselves, so I know what it’s like.’

She saw him hesitate. Glance at her wedding ring.

She cringed inwardly. What was she thinking? He was probably planning to drop off his bike and head off to ask out the gorgeous young auburn-haired waitress in the juice bar. Not some worn-out, thirty-five-year-old mum with – she noticed, to her embarrassment – a rip in the knee of her jeans.

‘Uh. Well,’ he said carefully. ‘To be honest, the students at Balliol were ordered to take me on enough tours of Oxford when I arrived to last me a lifetime. It’s all very nice but . . . I don’t know, maybe a drink one evening? That would be good. You could tell me a bit more about your work with the kids.’

Kate almost stepped back in surprise. ‘Um. Yes.’

‘OK. Well, what about tomorrow tonight?’

Tomorrow was Tuesday. The night Saskia was booked to babysit so that Kate could go to her manufactured therapy session with Sylvia. She appraised Jago. He had already given her more to think about in five minutes than that woman probably would in three months.

‘Would it be OK to make it quite early – about half past seven? I’ve only got a babysitter till about nine.’

‘Yup. Absolutely.’ Gratefully, she noticed he didn’t even flinch at the mention of Jack. ‘I’ll leave it to you where we meet.’

Kate blanched. She couldn’t possibly decide that quickly. She’d need time to work out the safest place to meet and the safest way to get there.

Jago watched her expression. ‘Right – tell you what, here’s my number,’ he said, taking out a pen and scribbling on a piece of paper. ‘Just text me where you want to meet.’

‘Perfect,’ she said, relieved.

‘OK – see you,’ Jago said, pushing his bike inside.

‘Good luck.’ Kate smiled.

As she was about to walk away she heard him call her name.

‘Actually, Kate. Sorry to be a pain, but if we’re meeting tomorrow, can I keep that copy? I was going to go to the library straight after this to finish my notes. I’m using it in a seminar tomorrow for a bit of fun, and it’s so long since I wrote the bloody thing, I’ve been having to remind myself today what I actually said.’ He made an apologetic face. ‘I’ll dig out another one from my room tomorrow for you.’

She held the book tightly in her hand.

‘Sure,’ she said, fighting to control her impulse to cling to it.

‘I won’t forget, promise.’ He smiled.

She waved and walked up Iffley Road fighting the urge to beg him for it back.

Maybe it was better. A test.

All of a sudden, a thought hit her.

Her mind hadn’t summoned up a single statistic about arriving home safely since she met Jago Martin in Broad Street.

Not one.

And, for the first time in a long time, she’d actually enjoyed a conversation with someone, too.

She looked up Iffley Road.

What if she could get home without thinking about any numbers?

Steeling her jaw, Kate picked up speed, summoning up Jack’s anxious face to spur her on, trying to forget about Jago Martin’s book.

CHAPTER NINE

The clock on Gabe’s computer in his bedroom said 5.45 p.m. Jack looked at his new Facebook account on the screen, eyes glowing. With Gabe’s help, he already had eleven friends: ten from school, and Aunt Sass, who had insisted that if she was going to go behind his mum’s back she was at least going to see what he was up to. Gabe’s mum had made him do the same, so at least Jack wasn’t the only one with a smiling grown-up on his friends list, with watchful eyes. As long as Sid at school didn’t start writing rude things. Aunt Sass was cool, but even she’d be shocked at some of the stuff Sid showed them on his phone at playtime.

‘Mum says you can stay for tea, J!’ Gabe shouted from downstairs.

‘But you’ve got to phone your mum and tell her, Jack,’ came Gabe’s mum’s voice from the kitchen. Her voice always sounded relaxed, as if it was lazing on a beach. ‘You know what she’s like, yeah?’

‘OK,’ Jack called. He frowned. He knew Gabe and his mum would be making faces at each other about his mum. He picked up his mobile, thinking. He wasn’t ready to speak to her yet. He felt too guilty. She’d only be at home, worrying again, more probably because of what he’d said this morning. No – he knew what he would do.

hi mum
, he texted. He sat for a moment, listening to Gabe fighting with his brother downstairs, and Gabe’s mum shouting, ‘You two!’ and ‘Enough!’ Jack swept a curve of fine blond hair away from his face. It would be nice to have a brother so it wasn’t always just him and Mum. He supposed he wouldn’t get one now.

He lifted his fingers, wondering what to say.

Kate’s phone buzzed as she walked in the house.

hi mum. gabes mum says i can stay for tea. can i?

hi jack, of course, have fun
, she made herself text back, fighting the urge to tell him to ensure Gabe walked him home afterwards. She sighed, imagining Jack in the loud, happy chaos of Gabe’s house, wishing he never had to come home. She was just about to turn off her phone, when a new text arrived.

are you ok mum?

Kate gasped. ‘Oh,’ she whispered. The unfamiliar intimacy of his words took her by surprise.

yes of course!
she typed.

But just as she was about to send it, she stopped.

She sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the screen, looking at his question.

are you ok mum?

He was asking her. After their awful fight this morning, and the lie she made him tell his teacher, the least she could do was answer truthfully.

She thought for a moment, then tapped in a different reply.

honestly jack? no. not really. but it has NOTHING to do with you. it’s me, and i promise i am trying to fix it. really, really sorry about your head

She pressed the ‘send’ button, and grimaced. Was it too much? She sat nervously biting her fingernails. His message pinged back.

i’m sorry 2

‘
Oh!’ she whispered. He was trying to talk to her. After all this time, he was
trying to talk to her
.

Sitting upright, Kate tried to think fast.

no jack. you’ve done nothing wrong. it’s me, and i know some things have gone wrong and i promise that i’m doing everything i can now to make it better

She waited, gritting her teeth. This was excruciating. Like digging a pencil in a raw wound. If she felt like this, how must he be feeling?

Nothing happened.

She sat upright, waiting for his reply.

She waited another minute.

Damn, she’d scared him. She couldn’t expect him to go from never talking about the terrible thing that had torn their lives apart to an open, frank discussion, just because she had decided it would be good for them. She bit her lip and decided to take a risk.

maybe you can help me?

This time the reply was almost immediate.

i dont know what 2 do

‘Oh Jack,’ she said sadly.
u cd tell me what i’m doing wrong

She waited.

but then you get upset

She sniffed.
sorry. jack – i didn’t realize

She thought for a minute, then typed again.
you know, it’s so good to talk about this with you. could we talk about it more when you get home?