The Accident. C.L. Taylor

the day after the incident with Keisha and Danny in the hospital but I’m still reeling. What did she mean – ‘She trusted me, she thought I was her best friend, and look what happened to her.’

      Brian and I talked about what had happened all the way home and for hours into the night but we still couldn’t unravel it. It took all my self-restraint, and Brian’s firm hand on the phone, not to call Oli at midnight to ask him for Danny’s number so I could get some answers there and then.

      ‘Did Charlotte ever mention anything about Keisha being her best friend?’

      ‘Keisha? Her best friend? You’re kidding me, right? What about Ella? Those two are as thick as thieves.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Or did they fall out?’

      I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. Charlotte never mentioned falling out with Ella but then …’ I tail off. I’m starting to get the impression there’s a lot I don’t know about my daughter’s life.

      Oli pulls a face. ‘It’s a bit unlikely, isn’t it? A fifteen-year-old and a nineteen-year-old being best friends? Or is it different with girls?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘But why would Keisha say that if it wasn’t true?’

      ‘She’s a woman. She’s mental!’ He laughs then looks contrite. ‘Sorry Sue, present company excepted.’

      ‘Oliver James Jackson,’ Brian bellows from the porch. ‘Are you insulting your mother again?’

      He fixes Oli with a steely stare but he can’t stop his lips from twitching into a smile and giving him away.

      His son doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Thought I’d give you the day off, old man.’

      ‘Oi!’ Brian crosses the kitchen and lightly cuffs him round the back of his head. ‘Less of the old thank you very much.’

      I smile as they slip effortlessly into their roles for the father-son banter-athon. Information is swapped, insults are traded and jokes are told and never once do the grins slip from their faces. I adore watching the two of them together but a tiny, hateful part of me is jealous. Theirs is a closeness I could only dream of sharing with Charlotte. When she was born, when I held her in my arms for the first time, my head was full of happy imaginings for the future – the two of us shopping together for shoes, gossiping over manicures, cooing over Hollywood hunks in the cinema, or just sitting around the kitchen table chatting about our days. But it never quite turned out that way.

      I was Charlotte’s favourite person in the whole world until she turned eleven but then something changed. Instead of skipping home excitedly from school to tell me all about her day she became sullen and withdrawn. Instead of giggling on the sofa together at an episode of Scooby Doo, she’d hole herself away in her room with her laptop and mobile phone for company. She’d scowl if I so much as peeped my head around the door to offer her a cup of tea. Brian tried to reassure me that it was normal, all part of her becoming a teenager. He reminded me of the way his relationship with Oli had suffered at a similar age and, although I could vaguely recall them clashing it was always over things like bedtimes and pocket money. It didn’t seem as personal as it was between Charlotte and I.

      Her refusal to talk to me was the reason I bought her her first diary. I figured it would give her an outlet for all the new, confusing feelings she was having – including ones of resentment towards me.

      ‘Isn’t that right, Sue?’ Oli waves a hand in front of my face and laughs. ‘Anyone home?’

      ‘Sorry?’ I look from him to Brian and back. ‘What was that?’

      ‘Dad just made a joke. Well …’ he raises an eyebrow, ‘… he thinks it’s a joke and I was trying to get you on side because …’ he tails off and laughs, presumably at the blank look on my face.

      ‘Did Sue ask you about Keisha?’ Brian asks, changing the subject.

      Oli nods but he’s just shoveled in the last Hobnob and his mouth is too full to answer.

      ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘He knows her – she’s Danny’s girlfriend – but Charlotte never mentioned her.’

      ‘Hmmm.’ Brian reaches for the empty plate, deposits it in the sink then returns to the table. ‘And she didn’t mention anything about falling out with Ella? Was there an argument or a disagreement of some sort?’

      Oli shakes his head. ‘Charlotte never really texted me with news and updates about her life. She only ever got in touch if she needed advice or …’ he tails off.

      ‘Or what?’ Brian and I ask simultaneously.

      Oli shifts in his seat. ‘Or if she wanted stuff buying off the internet.’

      Brian and I share a look.

      ‘What kind of stuff?’ he asks.

      ‘Nothing dodgy! Gig tickets, magazine subscriptions, eBay purchases, just stuff you need a credit card or PayPal account for.’

      ‘Was there anything strange or unusual she asked you to get her? Before her accident?’

      ‘Nope.’ He shakes his head. ‘Like I said, just gig tickets and celebrity signed photos and tat like that.’ He reaches across the table then pauses, realizing the plate has disappeared. A frown appears between his eyebrows.

      ‘What is it?’ Brian asks.

      Oli looks from one of us to the other. His lips part as though he’s about to say something, then close again.

      ‘What is it?’ Now I’m worried too. ‘You can tell us anything, Oliver. You know that, don’t you? We won’t judge and we won’t be angry. I promise.’

      Well, I won’t be angry. Brian is sitting on the very edge of his chair, his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on his son’s face.

      ‘I …’ He can’t meet his dad’s gaze.

      ‘Please,’ I say softly. ‘It might help.’

      ‘Okay.’ He sits back in his chair and drums his thumbs on the table, his head down. ‘Okay.’ He pauses again to clear his throat and I think I might explode if I have to wait one second longer. ‘She asked me if I’d pay for a hotel room for her and Liam.’

      ‘She WHAT?!’

      ‘She said she didn’t want to lose her virginity in a car or the playing fields behind the school like everyone else and—’

      ‘A hotel room?!’ The back of Brian’s neck is puce. ‘She’s fifteen, for fuck’s sake. What the hell was she thinking? If you bloody—’

      ‘I didn’t do anything, Dad!’ Oli holds up his hands. ‘I swear. I wouldn’t.’

      I can tell by the horrified look on his face that he’s telling the truth.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’ I ask.

      ‘Why would I?’

      ‘Because your FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD SISTER was planning on having sex with her seventeen-year-old boyfriend in a hotel room!’ Brian is halfway out of his seat, his hands splayed on the table, the tips of his fingers white.

      ‘Brian.’ He doesn’t so much as look at me so I say his name again as he continues to rant. Then again. ‘Brian, stop it! Stop shouting. It’s not Oli’s fault.’

      Both men look at me in surprise. I don’t think either of them have heard me raise my voice before.

      ‘Sorry.’ My husband’s voice is gravelly as he sinks into his chair and rubs the back of his neck, his eyes closed. He opens them again and reaches for my hand. ‘Sorry, Sue.’ He looks at Oli. His chin dimples and he presses his lips together in contrition. ‘Sorry, son.’ Oli shrugs but says nothing. He’s smarting, I can tell. ‘I just find it all so—’

      I put my hand over his.