The Breakdown(25)

He’s away all week.’

‘How about if I come and keep you company on

Wednesday?’





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My heart sinks. ‘What about tomorrow?’

‘I can’t, sorry, I already have something on.’

‘Wednesday it is, then.’ I can’t keep the disappointment from my voice.

‘Is everything OK?’ she asks, picking up on it.

‘Yes, everything’s fine. Go on, go to sleep.’

‘See you Wednesday,’ she promises.

I wander into the sitting room. If I’d told her that

I’m nervous about being on my own she’d have come

straight round. I turn on the television and watch an

episode of a series I’ve never seen before. Then feeling

tired, I go up to bed, hoping I’ll sleep straight through until the morning.

But I can’t relax. The house is too dark, the night

too silent. I reach out and turn the light on, but sleep

eludes me. I put my headphones on to listen to music

but take them off again when I realise they’d mask

the sound of someone creeping up the stairs. The two

windows I found open, the one in the bedroom after the

alarm man left on Friday and the one in the kitchen on

Saturday play on my mind, as does the man I saw outside

the house this morning. When the sun begins to rise

and I find myself falling asleep, I don’t bother fighting it, telling myself that I’m less likely to be murdered in daylight than at night.

WEDNESDAY JULY 29th

I’m woken by the phone ringing in the hall. I open my

eyes and stare at the ceiling, hoping the caller will give up. Yesterday morning the phone had rung insistently at half past eight but when I’d answered it there’d been no one there. I look at the clock; it’s nearly nine so it’s probably Matthew, phoning before he starts work for the day. I leaping out of bed, run downstairs and snatch it up before the answering machine kicks in.

‘Hello,’ I say breathlessly. There’s no answering hello,

so I wait, because the connection is often bad from the

rig.

‘Matthew?’ I try. There’s no answer so I hang up and

dial his number.

‘Did you just call?’ I ask when he picks up.

‘Good morning, darling,’ he says pointedly, but with

laughter in his voice. ‘How are you today?’

Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16





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‘Sorry,’ I say hastily. ‘I’ll start again. Hello, darling, how are you?’

‘That’s better. I’m fine, it’s cold up here, though.’

‘‘Did you call me a moment ago?’

‘No.’

I frown. ‘Oh.’

‘Why?’

‘The phone rang but there was no one there so I

thought it was a bad connection from the rig.’

‘No, I was going to call you at lunchtime. I’m afraid

I have to go, sweetheart, let’s speak later.’

I hang up, annoyed at having been got out of bed.

There should be a rule against cold-callers calling so

early. The day stretches in front of me and I realise I

don’t want to spend another night on my own. Last

night, when I’d got up to go to the loo, I’d looked out

of the window and, for a second, I thought there was

someone there. There wasn’t, of course, but after that I

couldn’t get to sleep until the early hours.

‘Then go away for a couple of days,’ Matthew says

when he phones at lunchtime and I tell him I’ve hardly

slept for the last two nights.

‘I could, I suppose,’ I say. ‘Maybe the hotel I went to

a couple of years ago, after Mum died. It has a pool and

spa. I’m not sure they’ll have any room though.’

‘Why don’t you phone them and find out? If they do,

you could go today and I’ll join you on Friday.’

My spirits lift immediately. ‘That’s a great idea! You

really are the best husband in the world,’ I say gratefully.

The Breakdown





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I phone the hotel and, while I wait for them to pick


up, I take the calendar from the wall just to make sure

of the dates I need to book. I’m just calculating that

I’ll need to book it for four nights if we’re to stay until Sunday when the words ‘Matthew to rig’ jump accusingly out at me from Monday’s square. I close my eyes, hoping they won’t be there when I open them again. But they are, as are the words ‘Matthew back’, written on the square for the 31st – Friday – followed by a smiley face.

My heart drops and worry begins its familiar gnawing

in my stomach, so that when the hotel finally answers

and the receptionist tells me they’re fully booked apart

from a suite, I don’t even ask him how much it costs, I