The Breakdown(4)

SATURDAY JULY 18th

I wake the next morning to find Matthew sitting on

the edge of the bed, a mug of tea in his hand.

‘What time is it?’ I murmur, struggling to open my

eyes against the sunshine streaming in through the

window.

‘Nine o’clock. I’ve been up since seven.’

‘How’s the migraine?’

‘Gone.’ In the sunlight his sandy hair looks golden

and I reach up and run my hands through it, loving its

thickness.

‘Is that for me?’ I ask, eyeing the mug hopefully.

‘Of course.’

I wriggle into a sitting position and sink my head

back against the pillows. ‘Lovely Day’, my favourite

feel-good song, is playing on the radio downstairs and

with the prospect of six weeks’ holiday in front of me,

life feels good.

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





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‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the mug from him. ‘Did you

manage to sleep?’

‘Yes, like a log. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait up for you.

How was your journey back?’

‘Fine. Lots of thunder and lightning though. And

rain.’

‘Well, at least the sun is back out this morning.’ He

nudges me gently. ‘Move over.’ Careful not to spill my

tea, I make way for him and he climbs in beside me. He

lifts his arm and I settle back into him, my head on his

shoulder. ‘A woman has been found dead not far from

here,’ he says, so softly that I almost don’t hear him. ‘I just heard it on the news.’

‘That’s awful.’ I put my mug on the bedside table and

turn to look at him. ‘When you say not far from here,

where do you mean? In Browbury?’

He brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, his

fingers soft on my skin. ‘No, nearer than that, somewhere along the road that goes through the woods between here and Castle Wells.’

‘Which road?’

‘You know, Blackwater Lane.’ He bends to kiss me

but I pull away from him.

‘Stop it, Matthew.’ I look at him, my heart fluttering

behind my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage, waiting for him to smile, to tell me that he knows I came back that way last night and is just teasing. But he only frowns.

‘I know. It’s horrible, isn’t it?’

I stare at him. ‘Are you serious?’

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‘Yes.’ He looks genuinely puzzled. ‘I wouldn’t make


something like that up.’

‘But…’ I feel suddenly sick. ‘How did she die? Did

they give any details?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, just that she was in her car.’

I turn away from him so that he can’t see my face. It can’t be the same woman, I tell myself, it can’t be.

‘I have to get up,’ I say as his arms come round me

again. ‘I need to go shopping.’

‘What for?’

‘Susie’s present. I still haven’t got her anything and

it’s her party tonight.’ I swing my legs from the bed

and stand up.

‘There’s no hurry, is there?’ he protests. But I’ve

already gone, taking my phone with me.

In the bathroom, I lock the door and turn on the

shower, wanting to drown out the voice in my head

telling me that the woman who’s been found dead is the

one that I passed in my car last night. Feeling horribly

panicky, I sit down on the edge of the bath and bring

up the internet, looking for news. It’s Breaking News

on the BBC but there are no details. All it says is that a woman has been found dead in her car near Browbury in Sussex. Found dead. Does that mean she committed suicide? The thought is appalling.

My mind races, trying to work it out. If it is the same

woman, maybe she hadn’t broken down, maybe she had

stopped in the lay-by on purpose, because it was isolated, so that she wouldn’t be disturbed. It would explain why





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she hadn’t flashed her lights, why she hadn’t asked for my help – why, when she’d looked back at me through the window, she hadn’t made any sign for me to stop, as she surely would have if she’d broken down. My stomach

churns with unease. Now, with the sun streaming in

through the bathroom window, it seems incredible that I

hadn’t gone to check on her. If I had, things might have

ended differently. She might have told me she was fine,

she might have pretended that she’d broken down and

that someone was coming to help her. But if she had, I

would have offered to wait with her until they arrived.

And if she had insisted I leave, I would have become

suspicious, I would have got her to talk to me – and