The Breakdown(57)

I eye it apprehensively. Yesterday, the letter had been from Alex but there’s little chance the package is from him. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ He studies the plain white packaging.

‘Something you ordered?’

‘I didn’t order anything.’ Nervously, I put it on the kitchen table, almost scared to touch it. Could it have been sent by my silent caller?

‘Are you sure?’ Matthew puts his hand on my shoulder.

‘Positive.’

‘Do you want me to open it?’

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





216


b a paris


‘No, it’s all right,’ I say hastily. Even though I could easily rip it open, I pick it up and carry it through to the study. Taking a pair of scissors from the drawer, I snip through the envelope. Inside, there’s a small box.

I take it out and ease open the lid, my heart pounding.

A pair of exquisite silver earrings sit on a black velvet cushion and, recognising them, relief washes over me.

‘Very nice,’ Matthew says, peering over my shoulder.

I hadn’t heard him follow me through. ‘They’re for

Rachel,’ I tell him, closing the box. ‘I didn’t expect them to come so quickly.’

‘For her birthday?’

I think of the cottage on the Ile de Ré. ‘Yes,’ I say.

He leaves to mow the lawn. I slip the earrings into a drawer, and stand for a moment looking out of the study window, looking across the road to the field opposite. I used to feel so safe here, as if nothing could ever touch us.

The house phone rings. I freeze, then remember it’s the weekend. My silent caller has never called on a Saturday before. Even so, I let the answering machine pick up the call. It’s Mary, wondering if I got the various messages she left me about the Inset day. My heart drops.

The holidays are going to end soon and I still haven’t done the work I was supposed to have done. She carries on talking and jokingly adds that she hopes I haven’t lost my mobile because she’s also sent quite a few text messages.

The Breakdown





217


After Mary ends her message, the telephone rings again


almost immediately. I check the number, wondering if Mary is going to become as persistent as my silent caller.

But it’s Rachel, so I pick up.

‘Hi,’ I say brightly.

‘So, how are you?’

Going mad, I want to tell her. ‘Busy preparing lessons,’

I say instead.

‘Any more calls?’

‘No, not recently,’ I lie. ‘What about you? How’s

Siena?’

‘Beautiful. I’m having great fun, despite Alfie.’ Her throaty laugh comes down the line. ‘I can’t wait to tell you all about him but we’re just about to go out.’

‘No wedding bells then?’ I ask, amused.

‘Definitely not. Anyway, you know me, I’m not

the marrying kind. Why don’t we meet for lunch the

Tuesday after I get back – the Monday’s a Bank Holiday.

It’ll be my first day back at work so it’ll be nice to have something to look forward to. And you don’t go back to school until the Wednesday, do you?’

‘No, so lunch on the Tuesday will be lovely. At the Sour Grapes?’

‘I’ll see you there.’

I hang up, realising that there are only two weeks of the summer holidays left. A blessing and a curse. I can’t wait to be away from the house, away from the calls.

But all the work looming over me makes going back to school seem impossible.





218


b a paris


‘Ready?’ I look up and see Matthew standing there.

He’s dressed smartly in khaki trousers and a polo shirt and is carrying a small sports bag.

‘Ready?’ I frown.

‘For our afternoon at the spa.’

I nod and force a smile but I’m not ready because I’d completely forgotten that at the restaurant yesterday, he’d surprised me with a couples booking for this afternoon at a spa near Chichester. We went there just after we got engaged, and his gesture last night had eased the tension that remained after the conversation about our new neighbour.

‘I just need to put my shoes on,’ I say, smoothing

down the cotton skirt I’d put on this morning instead of the shorts I would have normally worn. So maybe, this morning, I had remembered about the spa.

I run upstairs and stuff a bikini into a bag, thinking about what else I might need.

‘We need to go, Cass!’

‘Coming!’ I pull off the vest top I’m wearing and

open the wardrobe door, looking for something a little smarter. I take out a white cotton shirt with tiny buttons and shrug it on. In the bathroom I run a brush through my hair. I’m just about to put some make-up on when Matthew calls again from downstairs.

‘Cass, did you hear me, the booking is for two o’clock!’

I glance at the clock and realise that we only have forty-five minutes to get to Chichester. ‘Sorry,’ I say, running down the stairs. ‘I was looking for my bikini.’