Read the book: «The Accident: The bestselling psychological thriller»

Friday 2nd September 1990

It’s 5.41 a.m. and I’m sitting in the living room, glass of red in one hand, a cigarette in the other, wondering if the last eight hours of my life really happened.

I finally rang James on Wednesday evening, after an hour’s worth of abortive attempts and several glasses of wine. The phone rang and rang and I started to think that maybe he was out when it suddenly stopped.

‘Hello?’

I could barely say hello back I was so nervous but then:

‘Susan, is that you? Gosh. You actually called.’

His voice sounded different – thinner, breathy – like he was nervous too, and I joked that he sounded relieved to hear from me.

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I thought there was no way you’d call after what I did. Sorry, I’m not normally such a twat but I was so pleased to run into you alone backstage that I … Anyway, sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I should have just asked you out like a normal person …’

He tailed off, embarrassed.

‘Actually,’ I said, feeling a sudden rush of affection towards him. ‘I thought it was funny. No one’s ever thrown a business card at me and shouted “Call me” before. I was almost flattered.’

‘Flattered? I’m the one that should be flattered. You called! Oh God,’ he paused, ‘you are calling to arrange a drink, aren’t you? You’re not ringing to tell me I’m an absolute prat?’

‘I did consider that option,’ I laughed, ‘but no, I happen to be unusually thirsty today so if you’d like to take me out for a drink that could be arranged.’

‘God, of course. Whenever and wherever you want to go. All drinks on me, even the expensive ones.’ He laughed too. ‘I want to prove to you that I’m not … well, I’ll let you make your own mind up. When are you free?’

I was tempted to say NOW but played it cool instead, as Hels had ordered me to do, and suggested Friday (tonight) night. James immediately agreed and we arranged to meet in the Dublin Castle.

I tried on dozens of different outfits before I went out, immediately discarding anything that made me look, or feel, fat and frumpy, but I needn’t have worried. The second I was within grabbing distance, James pulled me against him and whispered ‘You look beautiful’ in my ear. I was just about to reply when he abruptly released me, grabbed my hand and said, ‘I’ve got something amazing to show you,’ and led me out of the pub, through the throng of Camden revellers, down a side street and into a kebab shop. I gave him a questioning look but he said, ‘trust me’ and shepherded me through the shop and out a door at the back. I expected to end up in the kitchen or the toilets. Instead I stumbled into a cacophony of sound and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the smoky darkness. James pointed out a four-piece jazz band in the corner of the room and shouted, ‘They’re the Grey Notes – London’s best-kept secret’ then led me to a table in the corner and held out a battered wooden chair for me to sit down.

‘Whisky,’ he said. ‘I can’t listen to jazz without it. You want one?’

I nodded, even though I’m not a fan then lit up a cigarette as James made his way to the bar. There was something so self-assured about the way he moved, it was almost hypnotic. I’d noticed it the first time I’d seen him on stage.

James couldn’t be more different from my ex Nathan. Whilst Nathan was slight, baby-faced and only a couple of inches taller than I am, James is six foot four with a solidity to him that makes me feel small and delicate. He’s got a cleft in his chin like Kirk Douglas but his nose is too large to make him classically good looking and his dirty blond hair continually flops into his eyes but there’s something mercurial about his eyes that reminds me of Ralph Fiennes; one minute they’re cool and detached, the next they’re crinkled at the corners, dancing with excitement.

I knew something was wrong the second James returned from the bar. He didn’t say anything but, as he set the whisky tumblers down on the table, his eyes flicked towards the cigarette in my hand and I instantly understood.

‘You don’t smoke.’

He shook his head. ‘My father died of lung cancer.’

He tried to object, to tell me that whether I smoked or not was none of his business, but his frown evaporated the second I put my cigarette out and the atmosphere immediately lightened. The band was so loud it was hard to hear each other over the squeal of the trumpet and the scatting of the lead singer so James moved his chair closer to mine so we could whisper into each other’s ears. Whenever he leaned in, his leg rested against mine and I’d feel his breath against my ear and neck. It was torturous, feeling his body against mine and smelling the warm spiciness of his aftershave and not touching him. When I didn’t think I could bear it a second longer James cupped his hand over mine.

‘Let’s go somewhere else. I know the most magical place.’

I barely had the chance to say ‘okay’ when he bounced out of his seat and crossed the room to the bar. A second later he was back, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses and a threadbare rug in the other. I raised an eyebrow but he just laughed and said, ‘You’ll see.’

We walked for what felt like forever, weaving our way through the Camden crowds until we passed Chalk Farm. I kept asking where we were going but James, striding alongside me, only laughed in reply. Finally we stopped walking at an entrance to a park and he laid a hand on my shoulder. I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he told me to shut my eyes because he had a surprise for me.

I wasn’t sure what could be quite so astonishing in a dark park at silly o’clock in the morning but I closed my eyes anyway. Then I felt something heavy and woollen being draped over my shoulders and warm spiciness enveloped me. James had noticed I was shivering and lent me his coat. I let him lead me through the entrance and up the hill. It was scary, putting my trust in someone I barely knew, but it was exhilarating too and strangely sensual. When we finally stopped walking he told me to stand still and wait. A couple of seconds later I felt the softness of the worn cotton rug under my fingers as he helped me to sit down.

‘Ready?’ I felt him move so he was crouched behind me, then his fingers touched my face, lightly brushing my cheekbones as they moved to cover my eyes. A tingle ran down my spine and I shivered, despite the coat.

‘I’m ready,’ I said.

James removed his fingers and I opened my eyes. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

I could only nod. At the base of the hill, the park was a chequerboard of black squares of unlit grass and illuminated pools of yellow-green light cast by glowing streetlamps. It was like a magical patchwork of light and dark. Beyond the park stretched the city, windows twinkling and buildings sparkling. The sky above was the darkest navy, shot with dirty orange clouds. It was the most breathtaking vista I’d ever seen.

‘Your reaction when you opened your eyes …’ James was staring at me. ‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.’

‘Stop it!’ I tried to laugh but it caught in my throat.

‘You looked so young Suzy, so enchanted – like a child on Christmas Day.’ He shook his head. ‘How is someone like you single? How is that even possible?’

I opened my mouth to reply but he wasn’t finished.

‘You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,’ he reached for my hand. ‘You’re funny, kind, intelligent and beautiful. What on earth are you doing here with me?’

I wanted to make a joke, to ask if he was so drunk he couldn’t remember leading me up the hill, but I found I couldn’t.

‘I wanted to be here,’ I said. ‘And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’

James’s face lit up as though I’d just given him the most wonderful compliment and he cupped my face with his hands. He looked at me for the longest time and then he kissed me.

I’m not sure how long we kissed for, lying there on a rug on the top of Primrose Hill, our bodies entwined, our hands everywhere, grasping, pulling, clutching. We didn’t remove our clothes and we didn’t have sex, yet it was still the single most erotic moment of my life. I couldn’t let go of James for more than a second without pulling him towards me again.

It grew darker and colder and I suggested we leave the park and go back to his.

James shook his head. ‘Let me put you in a taxi home instead.’

‘But—’

He pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders. ‘There’s time for that, Suzy. Plenty of time.’