The Breakdown(41)

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I look over at the boxes of pills Dr Deakin prescribed, lying near the kettle. It’s a road I don’t really want to The Breakdown





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go down but it’s comforting to know that they’re there


if I ever feel I can’t cope, especially now that Matthew is going back to work and Rachel is flying out to Siena today. But with all the lesson preparation I have to do in the next couple of weeks, I’ll be too busy to worry.

As I sit there, I remember the day I found Mum standing in the kitchen, staring at the kettle, and when I asked her what she was doing, she said that she couldn’t remember how to switch it on. Suddenly, I miss her more than I ever have. The pain is acute, almost physical, and leaves me breathless. I want more than anything to be able to take her hand in mine and tell her that I love her, for her to put her arms around me and tell me that everything will be all right. Because sometimes I’m not sure that it will be.

SUNDAY AUGUST 9th

I never thought I was a DIY kind of girl but I enjoy helping Matthew with his garden shed. It’s nice to be able to focus on something different and to feel at the end of the day that I’ve achieved something.

‘Gin and tonic time,’ he says, as we stand there admiring our handiwork. ‘In the shed. I’ll get the drinks, you get the chairs.’

So I drag two chairs into the shed and we christen it with another of Matthew’s special G & Ts, which he makes with fresh lime juice and a splash of ginger ale.

We take our time over dinner and when dusk begins to fall we go back inside to watch a travel documentary, leaving our dishes to deal with later. It’s not long before Matthew starts yawning so, I tell him to go on up to bed while I clear up.

I go into the kitchen and head for the dishes stacked by the dishwasher. I’m almost there when, out of the Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16





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b a paris


corner of my eye, I see it lying on the side at the far end of the kitchen, near the door that leads to the garden, and I freeze in mid-step, one arm half outstretched in front of me, not daring to move. Danger permeates the air, settling on my skin, telling me to run, to get out of the kitchen, out of the house, but my limbs are too heavy, my mind too chaotic for flight. I want to call Matthew but my voice, like my body, is paralysed by fear. Seconds pass, and the thought that he could burst through the back door at any moment brings my legs to life and I stumble into the hall.

‘Matthew!’ I cry, collapsing onto the stairs. ‘Matthew!’

Galvanised by the fear in my voice, he comes tearing out of the bedroom.

‘Cass!’ He runs down the stairs, reaching me in seconds. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ he says, holding me close.

‘In the kitchen!’ My teeth are chattering so badly I can hardly get the words out. ‘It’s in the kitchen, lying on the side!’

‘What is?’

‘The knife!’ I gabble. ‘It’s there, in the kitchen, on the side, near the door!’ I clutch his arm. ‘He’s out there, Matthew! You have to call the police!’

Taking his arms from around me, he puts his hands on my shoulder.

‘Calm down, Cass.’ His voice is steady, soothing and I take a gulp of air. ‘Now, start again – what’s the matter?’

‘The knife, it’s on the side in the kitchen!’

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‘What knife?’


‘The one he used to kill Jane with! We have to call the police, he might still be in the garden!’

‘Who?’

‘The murderer!’

‘You’re not making any sense, sweetheart.’

‘Just call the police,’ I plead, wringing my hands. ‘It’s there, the knife, in the kitchen!’

‘All right. But first, I’ll need to take a look.’

‘No – just phone the police, they’ll know what to do!’

‘Let me go and check first.’

‘But…’

‘I will call them, I promise.’ He pauses, giving me time. ‘But before I do, I need to see the knife because they’ll ask me to describe it and they’ll want to know exactly where it is.’ He frees himself gently and eases past me.

‘What if he’s in there?’ I ask fearfully.

‘I’ll just look from the door.’

‘All right. But don’t go in!’

‘I won’t.’ He reaches the bottom step. ‘Where did you say it was?’ he asks, craning his neck around the doorway.

My heart thumps painfully. ‘On the side, near the back door. He must have come in from the garden.’

‘I can see the knife I used earlier to cut the limes,’ he says calmly, ‘but that’s all.’

‘It’s there, I saw it!’

‘Can you come and show me?’





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I inch down the stairs and, holding on to him, look fearfully into the kitchen. Over by the door, lying on the side I see one of our small black-handled kitchen knives.

‘Is that what you saw, Cass?’ Matthew asks, watching my face. ‘Is that the knife you saw?’