Accidents Happen (18 page)

Jago sipped his juice. ‘Well, I rang the psychologist in the States who’s writing a book about it.’

He had done that for her? It had been so long since anyone had done anything kind for her. A lump came into her throat.

‘I won’t bore you with it all,’ Jago continued, ‘but I thought you’d find some of what he said interesting. I did.’

Kate nodded, curious. ‘Go on.’ She tried to stop herself looking at the arc of his bicep in her peripheral vision.

‘Well, part of his theory is that this anxiety disorder has developed because of the de-programming of our fight-or-flight instinct.’

He laughed. She tried to make the expression on her face a little less vacant.

‘OK. Well, as I’m sure you know, human instinct is wired for survival. To fight the wild bear or run away from it.’

‘Yes. I get that bit.’

‘But most of us in the developed world don’t require that primal instinct any more.’

She shifted in her seat, remembering she had no make-up on.

‘I don’t quite . . .’

‘OK. Think of it this way.’ He paused, as if thinking. ‘If there are no wild bears to escape from, or invading marauders to fight, what do we do? We switch off our fight-or-flight programme. We stop relying on our wits to survive.’

‘And . . .?’

Jago took another drink of his juice. The music changed and ‘Love Me Do’ by The Beatles started. Kate slipped a sideways glance at the waitress.

‘Well, why don’t we have to protect ourselves any more?’ he asked.

Kate shrugged. ‘Because others do it for us.’

‘That’s right. They do. They keep our borders safe and create laws to protect us. Provide us with clean food and safe shelter. But if we entrust others to protect us all the time, and stop using our own instincts to survive, how do we know we’re really safe?’

‘They tell us we are?’

‘How?’

Kate thought for a moment. ‘Through information. They give us statistics.’

Jago banged his hand gently on the counter. ‘Very good. And there you go. The people who protect us constantly quantify that protection. “A recent test showed that your family will be bla-bla percentage safer in this car than that car,” and so on.’

Kate turned to face him more fully, intrigued.

Jago continued. ‘But there are hundreds of statistics. Thousands. So what do you do? If you’re me, you just get on with life. Accept that nothing is 100 per cent certain apart from that we’ll all die. Use a bit of common sense mixed with a few statistics and your own experience. So, for instance, I might fly to an important conference in a country whose airline has a less good safety record because I know that airlines usually don’t crash so I’ll probably be fine. But I won’t go without, say, taking my malaria tablets. Common sense tells me that’s a risk not worth taking.’

‘Whereas I . . .’

‘You don’t fly at all. You miss the important conference. You stay at home convinced that by manipulating statistics you are controlling your own fate by keeping yourself safe. Do you see?’

‘I think so,’ Kate said. Some of this did actually make sense.

Jago continued. ‘And that, according to the experts, is why our reliance on statistics is spilling over into an obsessional disorder for some people. For someone already suffering from anxiety – and I’m assuming after what’s happened to you, Kate – it appears to offer choices that relieve that anxiety. Scared of being ill? Arm yourself with statistics. Buy this cycle helmet and you’ll be 22 per cent safer than with that one. But, of course, all statistics are just an average of something that’s already happened. A guesstimate of what might happen next, not of what
will
happen. You can’t predict the future with certainty. You might set off in your shiny new cycle helmet and a lorry rolls down a hill because the driver was stuck in traffic for three hours due to a freak accident, and is so tired he forgot to put on the handbrake, and it squashes you flat. You can’t avoid danger altogether. But you can spend time convincing yourself that you can, by manipulating the figures – and not living much of a life in the process.’

He gave a dramatic gasp as if he’d just finished a sprint.

‘Sorry. Going on there.’

They both smiled.

Kate held out her hands. ‘I could choke on a peanut in the departure lounge.’

‘Exactly. It’s no wonder that when people start trying to work all this out they become . . .’

‘. . . Neurotic. Like me.’

Jago winced. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘No. It’s OK,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s interesting. I’m just thinking about it.’

Jago finished his juice, then turned round to face her.

‘So . . .’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think . . . it certainly explains some things, but I’m not quite sure how it changes it.’

‘Ah, well, this is where I bring in my, what we will very roughly call an experiment. I’m interested to know if it’s possible for you to counteract this dependency on statistics . . .’

She demurred. ‘And you would want to do this because . . .’

‘Who knows. It might lead to an interdisciplinary research paper with the psychology department at Edinburgh somewhere down the line. So . . .’

Kate felt a glow on her face. He was offering to spend more time with her, to do things together. She felt a bubble of hope. A glimpse into a future that a week ago did not exist.

‘OK. And if I did agree to be your guinea pig – what would that entail?’

Jago frowned. ‘Well. That’s the thing, Kate. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. What I’m planning is not orthodox. But sometimes, in the early stages, you have to throw ideas out there and see what comes back. The trouble is . . .’

‘Hmm,’ Kate said, sensing a ‘but’ coming.

He grimaced. ‘OK. Honestly? I’m concerned that you might not be up to this.’

Disappointment crashed over her. She dropped her eyes. Was Jago actually here today, trying to tell her he didn’t want to see her again, in the gentlest possible way? Finding some roundabout excuse to extract himself while pointing her in the direction of help?

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, trying to stop her voice wavering.

He crinkled his eyes. ‘The thing is, I’d need to try to kick-start your instincts, so you react rather than think. I’m just concerned that maybe that’s just asking too much of you at the moment. If you’re feeling a little fragile. You know, to be spontaneous. I don’t want to mess with . . .’

Kate held up a hand. Right now, all she knew was that she wanted nothing more in the world than Jago’s help.

‘Jago,’ she said more firmly than she meant to. ‘I want to try.’

‘Really?’

Their eyes met. He looked into hers closely and, for the first time since they’d met, she let him.

‘OK, well, let’s see . . .’ he said. He glanced out of the window and fixed his eyes on a woman with a white retriever. The woman was in her sixties, tall, with a silver bob, glasses and a Barbour waistcoat. She tied the dog to a lamp post, then disappeared into the health food shop next door. The dog gave a half-hearted bark, whined and settled on the pavement.

Jago turned to Kate. ‘So, OK. If, for instance, I asked you to untie that dog and lead it away, could you?’

Kate looked at the dog. ‘Er, no.’

‘You couldn’t?’

Oh, God, he looked serious. ‘You want me to steal a dog?’ Kate laughed, waiting for Jago to say it was a joke. But his gaze remained steady. Kate glanced back at the dog uneasily.

He really did not seem to be kidding. Could she do it?

She had one chance here.

‘Um, OK, I suppose so.’

‘Great,’ Jago said, slapping the counter. ‘So, that’s what I want you to do. Go out there, untie the dog, walk down to the pedestrian crossing near Tesco and wait for me.’

Kate shifted on her stool. ‘You really are serious?’

‘I am.’

‘Jago. That’s a bit crazy.’

Jago shrugged. ‘As I said, Kate, what I’m planning isn’t orthodox.’

Kate sighed. She stood up reluctantly and hesitated. When he still didn’t stop her, she moved towards the door – slowly. Jago watched her go, saying nothing.

She waited for him again. He did nothing.

She opened the door next, praying Jago would call her back and say she’d passed the test. That she called his bluff.

But still he didn’t.

Before Kate knew it, she was outside on the pavement. As she shut the door, she looked down and saw the patch of grime from the other day, still stuck in the doorway.

And then she knew. She was
not
going back there.

If this is what he wanted her to do, she would do it.

Kate turned to look at Jago through the window. He was paying the waitress for their drinks. As she counted out the change, he gave Kate a tiny encouraging nod.

Resigned to her fate, Kate turned to the dog. Close up, it was younger than she’d realized. It gazed up with hopeful brown eyes. Kate peeked into the health food shop. The owner was talking to a girl behind the counter.

This was silly.

Jago had better know what he was talking about.

‘Jesus,’ she murmured, kneeling down as if tying her shoe, feeling her heart starting to thump. She reached out a finger and touched the dog’s lead. What would she say if the woman caught her? She thought for a second, then she knew. She’d pretend she thought it had been abandoned and was taking it to the police.

Feeling a little reassured at her own lie, Kate undid the lead, checked again that the owner still had her back turned, and led the dog away.

‘Come on,’ she said, not even stopping to see if it was following. To her relief, she felt its weight on the lead. Kate half shut her eyes, as if that would make her invisible, and began to run towards the traffic lights up ahead, cursing Jago as she went.

‘Quick,’ a voice said behind her. She turned to see Jago pacing up behind her, putting his change in his pocket, looking ridiculously relaxed. He pushed the button for the pedestrian crossing.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this!’ she hissed. ‘I can’t believe you’ve made me steal a bloody dog! What are we going to do with it?’

Jago chuckled. ‘Go,’ he said calmly as the green man lit up on the signal. She crossed the road, the lead turning damp in her sweaty palm.

At the other side, she glanced, panicked at the health food shop. The dog’s owner was coming to the door, her head turned back towards the counter, still talking.

‘What now?’ she yelled at Jago.

He motioned with his head. ‘That lamp post. Quick.’

‘Where?’

‘There.’

Following his eyes, Kate dropped down, and threw the lead frantically around the lamp post, as if it were burning her fingers. The dog sniffed at her, then sat down again on the pavement.

‘Go!’ Jago said, grabbing Kate’s hand and pulling her back up the Cowley Road. Kate exhaled with relief as if she’d dropped a burning pot.

As they passed the health food shop, there was a tinkle as the dog’s owner came out, shouting back a cheerful goodbye. Jago stopped and pulled Kate down with him beside a railing, and began to unlock what she now realized was his bike.

‘Ginny?’ Kate heard a well-spoken voice call out across the road. ‘Ginny!’

There was a bark from further down the road. Kate peered through the railings.

‘Ginny?’ She saw the woman stare across the road, astonished. ‘Gosh. How did you get over there, girl?’

There was such a note of surprise in her well-spoken voice, that to her embarrassment, Kate felt the corners of her mouth turn up. Jago saw it, and grinned at her.

‘Don’t. That was mean.’

‘
Gin-ay?
’ Jago whispered in a falsetto posh English voice. ‘
What the jolly-roger-dodger are you doing over there, gel
?’

Kate couldn’t help it. A bubble of laughter exited her mouth in an unladylike snort. Jago threw back his head and laughed in his laid-back boyish way that she realized she was starting to love hearing.

‘Oi, you,’ she said. ‘I better have bloody passed your bloody test.’

‘You already had,’ Jago said, standing up with his lock. ‘I just fancied a laugh.’

‘Jago!’ Kate opened her eyes wide, and went to bang his arm. To her surprise he caught her hand in his, and pulled her into a half-hug.

‘So, madam. Are you free tomorrow night?’ he said cheerily.

Kate jerked away, panicked. This was Cowley Road. Someone might see her. Saskia. Jack’s friends.

‘Uh, yes. Sorry,’ she said.

‘Excellent.’ Jago beamed, seemingly unperturbed. He grabbed his bike from the railing. ‘So, say, the Hanley Arms, 8 p.m., OK?’

‘OK, great.’

Jago winked, as he pulled into the road. ‘You did well. OK, listen, we’ll have some fun tomorrow. And don’t worry about it.’

Kate watched him go, then spun around to double check that the woman had indeed been reunited with her dog. There had been no harm done, she reassured herself. The dog was safe.

Then, she noticed someone watching her.

The waitress in the juice bar.

Their eyes met through the window. The waitress, who Kate suspected fancied Jago, was not smiling any more. Her eyes were watchful and wary. Kate baulked. Had she seen them take the dog?

Throwing the girl a brief smile to pacify her, Kate turned on her heel and set off back home. But there was a rap on the window.

Kate’s stomach lurched. Had she been caught?

Without Jago, she didn’t feel so brave.

She looked over and saw the girl beckoning her.

Apprehensively, Kate crossed the road. The girl came out holding a bag.

‘The Scottish guy – he left this,’ she said.

‘Oh. Thanks,’ Kate said, taking it from her, trying to turn and head off before the waitress mentioned the dog.

‘You kind of rushed off there,’ the girl said.

Kate lowered her eyes. ‘Thanks. I’ll give it to him.’

‘Interesting guy,’ the waitress said, her own eyes burning into Kate.

Kate shifted uncomfortably. ‘He is. Anyway, thanks for this.’

And, before the girl could make her feel any more awkward, Kate set off back to Hubert Street, not quite believing that a beautiful twenty-something girl was a little jealous of her.