Wrong Place Wrong Time(23)

‘I have something to say to you, and I know how you’re going to react, because I’ve already told you,’ she says. Kelly’s hand is warm in hers. The road is slick with rain. Jen’s getting better at this explanation.

‘Is this about work?’ Kelly is used to Jen asking him about work, theorizing at him, though mostly all he does is listen. Just last week, she asked him about Mr Mahoney, who wanted to give his ex-wife his entire pension, just to save the battle. Kelly had shrugged and said avoiding pain was priceless to some.

‘No.’ And there, in the darkness, she tells him everything in total detail. Again. She tells him about the first time, and then the day before it, and then the day before that. He listens, his eyes on her, the way he always has.

He doesn’t speak for a few moments after she’s finished. Just leans there, against the road sign, close to where the accident is due to happen, appearing to be lost in thought. Eventually, he seems to come to a conclusion, and says, ‘Would you believe this, if it were me?’

‘No.’

He barks out a laugh. ‘Right.’

‘I promise,’ she says, ‘on everything we stand for, all our history – that I am telling you the truth. Todd murders somebody this Saturday – late. And I’m moving back in time to stop it.’

Kelly is silent for a minute. It begins to drizzle again. He pushes his hair off his forehead as it gets wet. ‘Why are we here?’

‘For me to prove it to you. A car’s going to come along here, soon,’ she says, gesturing to the dark, quiet street. ‘It’ll lose control and flip on to its side. It was just on the news last night. My tomorrow. The owner escapes, totally unharmed. It’s a black Audi. It flips over there. It won’t go near us.’

Kelly rubs a hand along his jaw. ‘Okay,’ he says again, dismissive, confused. Together, they lean back on the road sign, side by side.

Just as she is beginning to think the car won’t come, it does. Jen hears it first. A distant, speeding rumble. ‘Here it is.’

Kelly looks at her. The rain has intensified. His hair begins to drip.

And then it rounds the corner. A black Audi, fast, out of control. The driver clearly reckless, drunk, both. Its engine sounds like gunfire as it passes them. Kelly watches it, his eyes fixed on it. His expression inscrutable.

Kelly pulls his hood up with one hand, against the downpour, just as the car flips. A metallic crunch and skid. The horn goes.

Then nothing. A beat of silence while the car smokes, then the owner emerges, wide-eyed. He’s maybe fifty, ambles across the road to them.

‘You’re lucky to be out of that,’ Jen says. Kelly’s eyes are back on her. Disbelief, but also a weird kind of panic seems to radiate from him.

‘I know,’ the man says to Jen. He pats his legs, like he’s unable to believe that he’s really fine.

Kelly shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand this.’

‘A neighbour is about to come out, to offer help,’ Jen commentates.

Kelly waits, saying nothing, one foot against the leg of the street sign, arms folded. A door slams somewhere.

‘I’ve called an ambulance,’ a voice says a few houses down.

‘Do you believe me yet?’ she says to Kelly.

‘I can’t think of any other explanation,’ he says after a few seconds. ‘But this is – this is mental.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that.’ She squares herself in front of him so she can look directly into his eyes. ‘But I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise it’s true.’

Kelly makes a gesture, down the street, and they walk, but not home. They stroll aimlessly, together, in the rain. Jen thinks he might believe her. Truly. And won’t that do something, surely? If Todd’s other parent believes it. Maybe Kelly will wake up with her, yesterday for him, too. It’s a long shot, but she has to try it.

‘This is completely batshit,’ he says. His eyes catch the overhead lights as they move. ‘There is no way you could’ve known about that car. Is there?’ She can see him trying to work it out.

‘No. I mean – literally, no.’

‘I can’t see how …’ His breath mists up the air in front of him. ‘I just don’t …’

‘I know.’

They take a left, then walk down an alleyway, past their favourite Indian takeaway, then start a slow loop back towards home.

Eventually, he takes her hand in his. ‘If it’s true, it must be horrible,’ he says.

That if. Jen loves it. It is a small step, a small concession from husband to wife. ‘It is horrible,’ she says thickly. As she thinks over the past few days of panic and alienation, her eyes moisten and a tear tracks its way down her cheek. She stares at their feet as they walk the streets in perfect sync. Kelly must be watching her, because he stops and wipes the tear away with a thumb.

‘I’ll try,’ he says simply, softly, to her. ‘I’ll try to believe you.’

When they get in, he pulls up a stool at the breakfast bar, sitting at it with his knees spread, his elbows on the counter, his eyes on her, brows raised.

‘Do you have a theory? On this – Joseph?’ Kelly says.

Henry VIII jumps on to the kitchen island and Jen gathers him to her, his fur soft, his body so fat and yielding, and puts her hands around him, like cupping a bowl. She’s so glad to be here. With Kelly. Sharing the same spot in the universe together, confiding in him.