The Breakdown(42)

I shake my head. ‘No, it wasn’t that one, it was much bigger, with a black handle, like the one in the photo.’

‘Well, it seems to have gone,’ he says reasonably.

‘Unless it’s somewhere else. Shall we go and look?’

I follow him into the kitchen, still hanging on to him.

He makes a show of looking around, humouring me, and I know he doesn’t believe there ever was another knife. And I start weeping pathetically, from despair that I’m going mad.

‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ Matthew’s voice is kind but he doesn’t put his arms around me, he stays as he is as if he can’t bring himself to comfort me.

‘I saw the knife,’ I sob. ‘I know I did. This isn’t the same one.’

‘So what are you saying? That someone came into the kitchen, replaced the knife I used earlier with a larger knife and swapped them back again?’

‘He must have.’

‘If that’s what you really think, you’d better call the police because there’s definitely a maniac on the loose.’

I look up at him through my tears. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! He’s trying to frighten me; he wants me to be scared!’

The Breakdown





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He walks over to the table and sits down, as if he’s


considering what I’ve just said. I wait for him to say something but he sits staring into space and I realise he’s beyond speaking, because there are no words to describe how my insistence that there’s a murderer after me makes him feel.

‘If there was a reason, however small, why the murderer is targeting you, maybe I could understand,’

he says quietly. ‘But there’s no damn reason at all. I’m sorry, Cass, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’

The desperation in his voice brings me to my senses.

It’s a struggle to get a grip on myself but the fear of Matthew leaving me is greater than the fear of the murderer getting me.

‘I must have made a mistake,’ I say shakily.

‘So you don’t want to call the police?’

I fight the urge to tell him that yes, I want the police to come and search the garden. ‘No, it’s fine.’

He gets up. ‘Can I give you a piece of advice, Cass?

Take the pills the doctor prescribed for you. Then we might both get some peace of mind.’

He leaves, not quite slamming the door behind him but almost. In the silence that follows I look at the little knife lying innocently on the side. Even from the corner of an eye it would be impossible to mistake it for something much more menacing. Unless you were mad, delusional, neurotic. It decides me. I walk over to the kettle and reach for the packet of pills. Dr Deakin





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had said to start with one, three times a day, but that I could up the dose to two if I felt really anxious. Really anxious doesn’t come anywhere near to describing how I feel but two is better than nothing so I pop them out and swallow them down with a glass of water.

MONDAY AUGUST 10th

A figure looms over me, dragging me from sleep. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

‘You didn’t have to sleep down here, you know.’

Matthew’s voice comes from a long way off. It takes me a while to work out that I’m lying on the sofa in the sitting room. At first, I’m not sure why. Then I remember.

‘I took two of the pills,’ I mumble, struggling to sit up. ‘And then I came to sit in here. They must have knocked me out.’

‘Maybe you should only take one next time, as you’re not used to them. I just came to tell you that I’m off to work.’

‘All right.’ I sink back onto the cushions. I sense he’s still angry but sleep is dragging me back. ‘I’ll see you later.’

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





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When I next open my eyes I think at first that he’s come back, or that he didn’t leave at all, because I can hear him speaking. But he’s leaving me a message on the answering machine.

I get to my feet, feeling strangely disorientated. I must have been in a really deep sleep not to have heard the phone ringing. I look at the clock; it’s nine-fifteen.

Going into the hall, I activate the answerphone.

‘Cass, it’s me. You’re obviously still asleep or in the shower. I’ll phone back later.’

As messages go, it’s pretty unsatisfactory. I take a couple of seconds to clear my head then call him back.

‘Sorry, I was in the shower.’

‘I was just phoning to see how you are.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Did you go back to sleep?’

‘For a while.’

He pauses, and I hear a small sigh. ‘I’m sorry about last night.’

‘Me too.’

‘I’ll come home as early as I can.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I’ll call you before I leave.’

‘All right.’

I put the phone down, aware that it’s one of the most stilted conversations we’ve ever had. The reality suddenly hits me of how all this has affected our relationship, and I wish I hadn’t sounded ungracious when he offered to come home early. Desperate to put things right between The Breakdown