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PROLOGUE
I can still remember every detail about the day of the accident with almost photographic clarity.
It was a grim winter Friday, almost ten years ago. The skies were dark and brooding and the classroom windows were all steamed up, although I could still see the sleet running down the outside of the glass. The heating was on full blast, and I was struggling to stay awake as Mr Harker tried to drum the intricacies of plant reproduction into us. I remember being startled by a sharp rap of someone knocking on the classroom door and Mr Harker opening it to admit the head teacher, a formidable woman called Mrs Philips. I felt the first twinges of unease when, after a brief whispered conversation, both of them looked directly at me, but it wasn’t until Mrs Philips asked me to accompany her to her office and bring my stuff that the unease turned to full-on dread.
As I followed her along the corridors, I was desperately trying to work out what I’d done wrong. Actually, there were probably plenty of things I’d done that could lead to a summons to the head teacher’s office, but I was trying to work out which one of them had been found out. On the rare occasions that I’d joined some of the other girls behind the science block for a cheeky cigarette, we’d always been careful to stuff our mouths with Polos and douse ourselves thoroughly with body spray to disguise the smell. Things were also getting pretty serious between me and my boyfriend, but we hadn’t actually had sex and, even if we had, it wouldn’t have been in school.
Eventually, we reached her office and she opened the door and stood aside to allow me to go in before her. There were three other people in there, two police officers and another woman, and I remember assuming that they were going to arrest me, although I couldn’t think why. Yes, I’d been there when Lee Reynolds used a stolen marker pen to draw a cock and balls on the bus shelter, but strictly as an observer. Surely they didn’t arrest you for that?
The female police officer suggested gently that I might like to sit, and it was at that moment that I noticed they were all looking pityingly at me, as if I were a sick dog that needed to be put down.
The actual words were a jumble, I think my mind just wasn’t able to process them. I heard ‘your mum and dad’, ‘fatal accident’, ‘so sorry’ and ‘died instantly’. My parents had been on their way to spend the weekend at a country park hotel and spa, a prize my mum had won in the school PTA silent auction in the summer. I found out later that the driver of an articulated lorry coming the other way had lost control on a slippery section of road, and his trailer had swung round like an enormous bat and smashed head-on into my parents’ car. They hadn’t stood a chance.
I didn’t cry. I think I was so shocked that I just shut down. I remember the woman who wasn’t a police officer explaining that she was a social worker and asking whether there was anyone she could call to come and get me. Thankfully, my grandparents were already on their way to keep an eye on us while Mum and Dad were away for the weekend, so a quick phone call diverted them to my school. The female police officer took me down to the canteen to get a cup of sweet tea and some chocolate to help with the shock, while the social worker and male police officer talked to my grandparents. I still didn’t cry.
I remember feeling numb as I collected my coat and the remainder of my things from my locker, before following my grandparents out to their car. We drove in convoy with the police and social worker to my younger sister Katie’s school, where the whole grisly performance was repeated. Still, I didn’t cry, even though Katie was distraught. I held her while she wept and promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
We didn’t talk about it when we got home. I don’t think any of us knew what to say. Nan and Grandad busied themselves with practicalities, making sure that we were fed. None of us could comprehend the situation. I didn’t even consider the pain they must have been feeling. After all, they’d just lost their daughter too.
We had eggy bread and baked beans for tea. Katie and I barely touched it, even though it was one of our favourites. It was only after I had changed into my favourite fleecy onesie, turned off the light and climbed into bed that the events of the day sunk in properly and the tears came. I sobbed and sobbed.
I was fourteen years old.
1
‘Fancy a drink, Daisy? You’re on holiday now, it would be rude not to.’
I’m so engrossed in my work that the voice takes me completely by surprise. I glance up to see my colleague Grace standing over me, with her handbag already slung over her shoulder. I cast my eyes around the office and discover that most of the desks are already empty.
‘Is it five thirty already?’ I glance at the clock in the corner of my screen. Where has the afternoon gone? ‘Give me ten minutes to finish this, and I’ll be with you.’
Grace settles herself at the empty desk next to mine while I focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. My job is not exactly glamorous; I’m an accounts technician at Holdsworth & Speke, a small firm of accountants based in London. Most of my work involves reconciling the books of our customers before they go to the chartered accountants, who check them, combine them with other information, and submit them to HMRC. I was lucky enough to secure an apprenticeship here six years ago, after my grandparents staged an ‘intervention’. Having been considered a bright child who would go far, I flunked my GCSEs spectacularly, failing everything apart from Maths and English. I just lost interest in all of it, and my results reflected that. The school wrote to Nan and Grandad to explain that sixth form wasn’t really an option for me, but there might be some college courses I could look at.
Two years later, after I’d been fired from a succession of low-paid jobs, we had an uncomfortable dinner where my grandparents pointed out that my current career trajectory, plus the fact that I smoked and drank my way through every pay packet, wasn’t what my parents would have wanted for me. I wouldn’t say that I pulled myself together overnight, but the concern on their faces was enough to make me realise that something had to change. I stopped smoking, regulated my drinking, and somehow managed to land the job here. I still wouldn’t describe myself as particularly ambitious, but Mr Holdsworth, one of the founding partners, took me under his wing and, among other things, sponsored me through the Association of Accounting Technicians qualifications, so I feel a sense of loyalty to the place. The pay is pretty good, too.
In the end, it’s nearly a quarter of an hour before I’m ready to send the accounts on to Rob, one of the chartered accountants. I attach them to an email, write a quick note explaining what I’ve done, and shut down my computer.
‘I’m ready,’ I tell Grace.
‘About time! I’m dying of thirst here.’ She sticks out her tongue. ‘See? Parched.’
‘Let’s go and fix that then, you poor thing.’
I wave to Mr Holdsworth through the glass of his office as we turn to leave, but he beckons me to join him. We’re pretty informal mostly, but the two founding partners are always addressed as Mr Holdsworth and Mr Speke. They are also the only two people in the company to have enclosed offices; everyone else is in the open-plan section. I stick my head around the door.
‘Is everything okay, Mr Holdsworth?’ I ask him.
‘Absolutely. I just wanted to wish you a happy holiday. How long are you off for?’
‘Two weeks.’
‘Excellent. I hope you have a lovely time, and try not to think about work while you’re away. We’ll look forward to seeing you fully refreshed when you get back.’
‘Thank you, Mr Holdsworth.’
It’s a beautiful summer evening as we step out onto the pavement but, as I pause to tilt my head and drink in the sun, Grace grabs my arm.
‘No time for that. Come on. We’re so late, there probably won’t be any outdoor tables left.’
