The Accident by C. L. Taylor Page A

I thought I was being very reasonable (or ‘ridiculously liberal’ according to Brian) but Charlotte told me it was the ‘grossest thing she’d ever heard’ and that, if she wanted her parents to know when she was having sex she’d put an advert in the local paper.
    I open the gate of the blue house at number fifty-five. The front garden looks lovely – the beds are awash with colour, not a single weed to be seen. Claire, Liam’s mum, must have been very busy. What I’d give for her green fingers.
    I knock lightly when I reach the front door. The curtains are closed in the living room but I can make out the shadowy shape of a person moving about. I knock again, louder this time, and keep an eye on the curtains. A moment later they twitch and a pair of bright blue eyes peers out at me then they’re swiftly pulled shut again. I hear the sound of a wooden floor creaking and then the front door swings open. Liam Hutchinson, Charlotte’s seventeen-year-old boyfriend, stands in front of me in nothing but his navy and white striped boxer shorts. He looks confused, so I smile warmly.
    ‘Hello, Liam.’
    He nods. ‘Mrs Jackson.’
    ‘Could I come in? I was wondering if we could have a little chat?’
    It feels strange to be sitting in the Hutchinson’s living room. I’ve never been in here before and I can’t stop myself from staring around, drinking in the unusual lithograph prints on the walls, the colour-coordinated scatter cushions and the large, expensive-looking rug in front of the original Victorian fireplace. Liam is slumped on the sofa on the other side of the room, his knees spread wide. If he finds this situation odd he isn’t letting on. We’ve been sitting here, sneaking looks at each other, for the last couple of minutes, neither of us saying a word. I rehearsed my opening line dozens of times on my way over but now the time has come to say it, my mouth has gone dry.
    ‘So …’ I manage at last. ‘You’re probably wondering why I’m here.’
    He shrugs. ‘Something to do with Charlotte?’
    ‘Yes. Have you been to see her? I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths.’
    ‘No.’ He picks at the ivory and gold throw covering his chair, plucking out the metallic threads and then dropping them on the floor. His mother will have a fit when she gets home. ‘I haven’t seen her. I didn’t think I’d be allowed.’
    ‘Really?’ I sit forward. ‘Because you’re not a relative? That’s fine. Friends and family are allowed in and,’ I smile warmly, ‘you’re more than a friend.’
    He shifts in his seat. ‘No, I’m not.’
    ‘Sorry. I meant – you’re her boyfriend.’
    ‘No. I’m not.’
    I frown, certain I must have misheard him. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you just said—’
    ‘We’re not going out any more.’ He glances away, as though embarrassed. ‘Charlotte dumped me.’
    ‘No!’
    I can’t believe it. Charlotteended it? Charlotte did? I felt sure that if anyone had called time on the relationship it would have been Liam. She idolized him. Tall, dark, two years older than her, handsome in a scruffy hair-in-his-eyes sort of way and in a band, she’d almost collapsed with excitement a year ago when one of his friends approached one of her friends in the school canteen to tell her that Liam thought she was ‘fit’.
    She didn’t give the slightest hint anything was wrong in their relationship although … I look from Liam to the clock on the mantelpiece, distracted by the tick-tick-tick filling the room … and time slips away.
    It’s three weeks before Charlotte’s accident – a Saturday afternoon – and she’s just returned from a shopping trip in town. I’m in the living room, reading, when I hear the door to the porch open. I call out, asking her if she’s bought anything nice but I’m ignored. I don’t ask again but I do keep an eye on the open living room door. Seconds later Charlotte slams up the stairs looking white as a ghost. I call after her, asking if