The Breakdown(29)

‘Can you just stop talking about it?’ I muttered.

‘You’re the one who brought it up.’

‘I wasn’t the one who turned on the television.’

I felt him looking at me. ‘Is it because the murderer’s

still at large, is that what’s bothering you? Because if it is, you’ll be perfectly safe now that we have an alarm.

Anyway, whoever’s responsible is probably miles away

by now.’

‘I know,’ I said.

‘So stop worrying.’

I realised that it was the opening I’d been waiting

for, the perfect time to confide in him, to tell him that I was worried about what was happening to me, to my mind, to explain about Mum and her dementia. But I let the moment slip away.

I hoped a bath would calm me down but I couldn’t

stop thinking about Jane’s husband. I wished there was





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something I could do to make his pain easier to bear, I

wished I could tell him how much I’d enjoyed meeting

Jane, how lovely she was. The need to do something

was overwhelming and I decided to ask Rachel if she

knew his address so that I could write to him. I lay in

the bath, composing the letter in my head, aware that

I was writing it as much for my sake as for his. By the

time I got out of the bath the water was cold, and as

Matthew and I lay side by side without touching, the

distance between us had never seemed greater.

I glance over at him now, standing beside me at the

reception desk, and wish he would bring my memory

lapses into the open instead of pretending that everything is all right when it’s so obviously not.

‘Sure you don’t want to go somewhere for lunch?’ I

ask.

He shakes his head, smiles. ‘I’m fine.’

We drive off, each in our own car, and when we arrive

at the house I watch while he turns off the new alarm.

‘Will you show me how it works?’ I ask.

He insists on letting me choose the code and I choose

our birthdays, backwards, so that I’ll remember it easily.

He makes me practise a couple of times, showing me

how to isolate certain rooms if I’m alone in the house,

and I suddenly remember telling the salesman that I’d

like to be able to do that, which means I must have

had more of an in-depth conversation with him than

I realised.

‘Right, I’ve got it,’ I say.

The Breakdown





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‘Good. Shall we see what’s on television?’


We go into the sitting room but it’s time for the news

so I escape into the kitchen.

‘Stabbing someone is one thing but actually slitting

their throat with a massive kitchen knife, that’s just

sick.’ Matthew stands in the doorway, looking shocked.

‘That’s how she died, apparently – she had her throat

cut.’

Something inside me snaps.

‘Shut up!’ I cry, thumping the kettle down on the

side. ‘Just shut up!’

He looks at me in astonishment. ‘For God’s sake,

Cass, calm down!’

‘How can I calm down when you’re always going on

about the bloody murder? I’m sick of hearing about it!’

‘I just thought you’d be interested, that’s all.’

‘Well, I’m not, all right? I’m not the least bit interested!’ I start to leave the room, angry tears pricking my eyelids.

‘Cass, wait!’ He takes hold of my arm, pulling me

back, into his arms. ‘Don’t go. I’m sorry, that was really insensitive of me. I keep forgetting that you met her.’

The fight goes out of me and I slump against him.

‘No, it’s my fault,’ I say tiredly. ‘I shouldn’t have shouted at you.’

He kisses the top of my head. ‘Come on, let’s watch

a film.’

‘As long as it’s not about a murder.’

‘I’ll find a comedy,’ he promises.





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So we watch a film, or rather Matthew does and I

laugh when he laughs so he won’t know how desperate

I feel. It’s hard to believe that my split-second decision to take a short cut through the woods that fateful Friday night has had such a devastating impact on my life. Jane may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time but so was I. So was I.

TUESDAY AUGUST 4th

The call comes while I’m stacking the dishwasher and

I think that it must be Rachel phoning to ask about my

few days at the hotel. But when I answer there is no one

there – or rather, no one speaks because I am sure that

there is someone there. I suddenly remember a call I received yesterday, and the ones I’d received the previous week, before I left for the hotel. The silence. I hold my breath, listening for the slightest sound that will tell me there’s someone there but there’s nothing, no static, no breathing, no sound at all as if he, like me, is holding his breath. He. Unease worms its way through my body