The Breakdown(11)

I go upstairs, get a couple of aspirins from the bathroom and swallow them down with water from the tap. As I lift my head I catch sight of my face in the

mirror and search it anxiously, looking for a sign that

could give me away, something which would tell people

that everything isn’t as it should be. But there’s nothing to show I’m any different to the person I was when I married Matthew a year ago, just the same chestnut hair and the same blue eyes staring back at me.

I turn my back on my reflection and go into our

bedroom. My pile of clothes has been moved from

the chair to the now-made bed, a gentle hint from

Matthew to tidy them away. On a normal day I would

be amused but today I feel irritated. My eyes fall on

my great-grandmother’s writing desk and I remember

the money Rachel spoke about, the hundred and sixty

pounds that everybody gave me for Susie’s gift. If I took the money, it would be in there, it’s where I always put things I want to keep safe. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the little drawer on the left-hand side of the





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writing desk and pull it out. Lying inside is a scruffy

pile of notes. I count them; there’s a hundred and sixty

pounds exactly.

In the warm peace of my bedroom the hard facts of

what I forgot suddenly loom over me. To forget a name

or a face is normal but to forget suggesting a gift and

taking money for it isn’t.

‘You look better already,’ Matthew says from the

doorway, making me jump. ‘Did you take some aspirin?’

I quickly push the drawer shut. ‘Yes, and I feel much

better.’

‘Good.’ He smiles. ‘I’m going to have a sandwich,

do you want one? I thought I’d have mine with a beer.’

The thought of food still makes my stomach churn.

‘No, go ahead. I’ll get something later. I’ll just have a cup of tea.’

I follow him downstairs and sit down at the kitchen

table. He puts a mug of tea in front of me and I watch him as he takes bread from the cupboard, a slab of cheddar from the fridge and makes himself a quick sandwich, pushing the two together and eating it without a plate.

‘That murder has been on the radio all morning,’ he

says, crumbs dropping to the floor. ‘The road’s been

closed and the police are all over it, looking for evidence.

It’s insane to think it’s all happening five minutes from here!’

I try not to flinch and look absent-mindedly at the

tiny white crumbs on our terracotta stone floor. They

The Breakdown





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look as if they’re stranded at sea with no help in sight.


‘Do they know anything about her yet?’ I ask.

‘The police must do because they’ve advised her next

of kin but they haven’t released any details. It’s awful to think what someone must be going through right now.

Do you know what I can’t get out of my mind? That

it could have been you if you’d been stupid enough to

take that road last night.’

I stand, my mug in my hand. ‘I think I’ll go and lie

down for a bit.’

He looks at me, concerned. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?

You don’t look great. Perhaps we shouldn’t go to the

party tonight?’

I smile sympathetically because he’s not a party person,

he’d much rather have friends over for a casual dinner.

‘We have to, it’s Susie’s fortieth.’

‘Even if you still have a headache?’ I hear the ‘but’ in

his voice and sigh.

‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to

talk to Rachel.’

‘I don’t mind talking to her, it’s just those disapproving looks she always gives me. She makes me feel as if I’ve done something wrong. Did you remember to get my jacket from the cleaner’s, by the way?’

My heart sinks. ‘No, sorry, I forgot.’

‘Oh. Well, never mind, I guess I can wear something

else.’

‘Sorry,’ I say again, thinking of the present and all

the other things I’ve forgotten lately. A few weeks ago,





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he had to come and rescue me and my trolley-load of

food at the supermarket when I left my purse on the

kitchen table. Since then, he’s found milk where the

detergent should be and detergent in the fridge and has

had to deal with an angry call from my dentist over an

appointment I forgot I’d made. So far he’s laughed it

off, telling me I’m in overload because of the end of the school year. But like with Susie’s present, there have been other times when my memory has failed me, times he doesn’t know about. I’ve driven to school without my books, forgotten both a hair appointment and a lunch

with Rachel, and last month I drove twenty-five miles

to Castle Wells, unaware I’d left my bag at home. The