The Breakdown(45)

And when he does, we have the most silent dinner ever.

WEDNESDAY AUGUST 12th

The sound of relentless rain drags me from my sleep. My limbs feel heavy, as if I’m wading through water. I force my eyes open, wondering why everything is so difficult, and remember the pills I took in the middle of the night, like a child sneaking a midnight feast. It’s amazing how quickly they’ve become my crutch. I’d already taken two yesterday, swallowed down hastily with my cup of tea as soon as Matthew had left for work, because I knew I couldn’t afford a repeat of the previous day, when I’d barricaded myself in the sitting room. They did the trick because when my silent call had come in, I didn’t go into a blind panic, I had answered, listened and hung up. In short, I had done what he required of me. It hadn’t stopped him from phoning back, but by then I’d been too drowsy to make it to the phone and after I’d been in such a deep sleep that I wouldn’t have heard it ringing anyway. When I eventually woke, just Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16





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before Matthew got home, I was shocked at how easy it had been, once again, to sleep away the day and I vowed not to take any more pills.

But then, last night, there’d been an update on Jane’s murder. The police now think she picked up her killer before arriving at the lay-by – which means that he would have been in the car when I drove past.

‘So she did have a lover,’ Matthew said when the update came to an end.

‘Why do you say that?’ I demanded, trying to hide the agitation I felt. ‘Maybe she was just giving somebody a lift.’

‘Not unless she was out of her mind. I can’t imagine any young woman being foolish enough to stop and pick up a total stranger. I mean, would you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t. But it was a terrible night and maybe he flagged her down.’

‘Maybe he did. But I think that once the police have delved a bit further into her background they’ll find that they were right the first time and that she had a lover.

So whoever killed her wouldn’t be after anyone else. As I said before, it was personal.’

Even though I still didn’t believe that Jane had had a lover, his words had calmed me. ‘I hope you’re right,’

I said.

‘I know I’m right. You can stop worrying, Cass.

Whoever’s responsible will be behind bars before you know it.’

The Breakdown





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But then Jane’s husband had come on, hounded by


a reporter who asked him if he could confirm that his wife had had a lover. In his refusal to answer he was quietly dignified, just as he was at his wife’s funeral, and the terrible guilt I feel whenever I think of Jane was magnified a hundred-fold. It pressed down on me, crushing me with its intensity. We’d gone up to bed but the thought that, as I was driving past Jane’s car, the killer was watching me through the window, made sleep impossible. I was so wound up that I’d had to go downstairs at three in the morning and pop a couple of pills just to be able to get through the rest of the night.

Which is why I’m feeling so sluggish.

I look at Matthew lying beside me, his face relaxed in sleep. My eyes fall on the clock; it’s eight-fifteen, which means it’s Saturday otherwise he’d already be up.

Reaching out, I run a finger down his cheek, thinking how much I love him. I hate that he’s seen a side of me that even I didn’t know existed, I hate that he must be wondering what on earth he got himself into by marrying me. Would he still have married me if I’d been honest with him and told him that Mum had been diagnosed with dementia at the age of forty-four? It’s a question that’s plaguing me. It’s also a question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to.

The need to show him how much I appreciate him focuses my mind. Planning to bring him breakfast in bed, I throw the covers off, swing my legs from the bed and sit for a moment, because it seems too much of an





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effort to actually stand. My eyes fall on Matthew’s work clothes neatly laid out on the chair – a clean shirt, a different tie to the one he wore yesterday – and I realise it’s not Saturday but Wednesday, and that for just about the first time since I’ve known him, Matthew has slept through his alarm.

Knowing he’ll be appalled, I reach over to shake him awake – then stop, my hand poised in mid-air. If I let him carry on sleeping, he might still be around when my caller checks in. And then he could hear the call for himself.

My heart pounding, because here I am, about to deceive him again, I lie back down and pull the covers over me quietly. I face the clock, hardly daring to breathe in case I wake him, watching the hands as they move painfully slowly towards eight-thirty, then eight-forty-five. I feel bad making him late for work but I tell myself that if he had taken the calls seriously, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. Yet how can I blame him for not taking them seriously when I’ve never told him that I saw Jane in her car that night? If I had, he would have understood why I think they’re coming from the murderer.

He wakes of his own accord just before nine, leaping out of bed with a cry of alarm.

‘Cass! Cass, have you seen the time? It’s almost nine!’