The Breakdown(37)

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knees. But the truth is, I don’t know how much more of myself I can take. I’m ashamed of how pathetically feeble I’ve become since Jane’s murder. If I hadn’t already been having problems with my memory, I know I would have coped better. But with the possibility of dementia hanging over me, I’ve lost all confidence in myself.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 7th

We’re lazing in bed when I hear a lorry pulling up in front of the house.

‘It’s not the day for the bin lorry, is it?’ I say innocently, knowing Matthew’s present should arrive today.

Matthew gets out of bed and goes to the window. ‘It’s a delivery of some kind. Probably for that man who’s just moved in up the road,’ he says, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt. ‘He’s had quite a lot of furniture delivered recently.’

‘What man who’s just moved in up the road?’

‘Into that house that was for sale.’

My heart thuds. ‘I thought it had been sold to a couple who were moving in at the end of September?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

The sound of someone crunching up the drive

followed by the ring of the doorbell sends him hurrying downstairs. I lie back against the pillows, thinking about Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16





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what Matthew just said. Maybe the man I saw outside the house is no more than our new neighbour. I should feel reassured, but I don’t, because somewhere in the dark recess of my mind I’m already wondering if he’s my silent caller. There might not have been anybody chasing me when I ran down the road yesterday but there was definitely someone watching me as I stood at the postbox. I wish I could tell Matthew but I can’t, not today, not without some sort of proof. He’s already bewildered enough by the way my mind has begun to work.

Suddenly impatient, because he hasn’t come back, I throw off the covers to go and find him and hear his footsteps on the stairs.

‘Surprise!’ I say as he comes into the room.

He looks at me in puzzlement. ‘So it’s not some kind of joke then?’

‘No, of course it isn’t,’ I say, taken aback by his lack of enthusiasm. ‘Why would it be?’

He sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘I just don’t understand why you’ve bought one now.’

‘Because I thought it would be a nice gesture?’

‘I still don’t understand.’

He looks so bewildered that my good humour evap-orates fast.

‘It’s your birthday present!’

He nods slowly. ‘Right. But why is it for me? Surely it should be for both of us?’

‘Why? I’m hardly going to use it, am I?’

The Breakdown





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‘Why not?’


‘Because you’re the one that’s been banging on about having one! But it doesn’t matter. If you don’t want it, I’ll send it back.’

‘I’ve never said I wanted one, not specifically, and anyway, it’s not a question of not wanting it, I just don’t see the point, that’s all. We haven’t even started looking into having a baby yet so it might be years before we have a child.’

I stare at him. ‘What’s having children got to do with it?’

‘I give up,’ he says, getting to his feet. ‘I don’t understand anything. I’m going downstairs.’

‘I thought you’d be happy!’ I shout after him. ‘I thought you’d be happy to have a garden shed! I’m sorry if I got that wrong too!’

He comes back into the room. ‘A garden shed?’

‘Yes. I thought you wanted one,’ I say accusingly.

‘Well, of course I want one.’

‘So what’s the problem? Is it the size, because if it is, we can always change it.’

A frown furrows his brow. ‘Let me get this straight – you’ve bought me a garden shed?’

‘Yes – why, isn’t that what was delivered?’

‘No,’ he says, starting to laugh. ‘No wonder I didn’t understand anything! They’ve made a mistake, sweetheart. They didn’t deliver a garden shed, they delivered a pram! God, I was seriously worried for a moment back there. I thought you’d completely lost it.’





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‘A pram?’ I look at him incredulously. ‘How did they make that mistake?’

‘God knows. It’s a very nice one, I admit, navy and white, just the sort I can see us buying one day. Well, I’d better go and phone the delivery company and see if they can come back and collect it. They can’t have gone very far.’

‘Wait a minute.’ I push the covers back and get out of bed. ‘Where is it?’

‘In the hall. But even if you fall in love with it, I’m afraid you can’t keep it,’ he jokes. ‘It’s obviously destined for someone else.’

I run downstairs, a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Standing by the front door, the packaging lying on the floor around it, is the pram I saw in the shop in Castle Wells, the one I’d picked out as being the most practical.