The Breakdown(66)

SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 20th

I stand in the kitchen, slowly stirring the risotto I’ve made for lunch, my eyes on Matthew in the garden pulling weeds from flower beds. I’m not watching him, I’m just using him to focus my eyes while my mind swirls around, a reaction to the weekend and the lack of drugs.

It’s two months since Jane’s murder and I have absolutely no idea where the last few weeks have gone.

Thanks to the pills, they’ve passed in a painless blur.

With difficulty, I count backwards, trying to work out when I received the letter from Dr Deakin referring me for tests, and come up with three weeks ago. Three weeks, and I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that I might have early-onset dementia. Maybe one day I’ll be able to face up to it – my tests are scheduled for the end of next month – but for the moment I don’t want to have to.

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





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Jane floats into my mind. Her face lingers there, her expression as blurred as it was on the day I saw her in the woods and I’m sad that I can barely remember what she looks like. It all seems to have happened so long ago.

My silent caller is still around though. During the week, when I’m home alone, I’m aware of the phone ringing at regular intervals throughout the day. Sometimes, through the fog in my brain, I hear Hannah, or Connie, or John, leaving a message on the answering machine.

But when a call cuts off before it can be picked up, I know that it’s him.

I’m still ordering things from the shopping channel except that I’ve upped my game and am now ordering jewellery instead of kitchen gadgets. On Friday,

Matthew came home from work with another parcel

left by the postman on the doorstep and my heart sank at the thought of playing yet another round of guess the contents.

‘That smells like my favourite dish,’ he’d smiled,

coming over to kiss me while I tried to work out what I’d ordered.

‘I thought it would be a nice start to the weekend.’

‘Lovely.’ He held up the box. ‘Another gadget for the kitchen?’

‘No,’ I said, hoping it wasn’t.

‘What is it then?’

‘A present.’

‘For me?’

‘No, for me.’

The Breakdown





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‘Can I look?’


‘If you want.’

He took a pair of scissors and cut open the outer

packaging.

‘Knives?’ he asked, drawing out two black flat leather boxes.

‘Why don’t you open them and see?’ I suggested.

Suddenly, I knew what they were. ‘Pearls,’ I said.

‘They’re pearls.’

He flipped open the lid of one of the boxes. ‘Very

nice.’

‘They’re for Rachel,’ I told him confidently.

‘I thought you’d already bought her some earrings?’

‘These are for Christmas.’

‘We’re only in September, Cass.’

‘There’s nothing wrong in starting early is there?’

‘No, I suppose not.’ He drew out the bill and gave a low whistle. ‘Since when have you spent four hundred pounds on your friends?’

‘I can do what I like with my money,’ I said defen—

sively, knowing I was right in not telling him about the cottage I’d bought for Rachel.

‘Of course you can. So who are the other ones for?’

All I can think is that I must have forgotten I’d ordered them and ordered another set. ‘I thought you could give them to me for my birthday.’

He frowned, less willing to play along with pretence than before. ‘Don’t you already have some?’





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‘Not like these,’ I said, hoping a third set wouldn’t turn up.

‘Right.’ I could sense him looking at me curiously.

He’s doing that a lot at the moment.

*

The risotto ready, I call Matthew and we sit down to lunch. Just as we’re finishing, there’s a ring at the doorbell. Matthew goes to answer it.

‘You didn’t mention that Rachel was coming,’ he

says, bringing her through to the kitchen. Although he smiles I can tell he’s not overly pleased to see her. I am, but I’m also caught on the hop, because I have no idea if I’ve forgotten that she was meant to be coming or if she’s just dropped in of her own accord.

‘Cass didn’t know, I just thought I’d drop in for a chat,’

she says, coming to my rescue. ‘But if I’m disturbing you I can always go away again.’ She looks at me questioningly.

‘No, it’s fine,’ I say hurriedly, hating the way Matthew always makes her feel unwelcome. ‘We’ve just finished lunch. Have you eaten or can I get you something?’

‘An espresso would be lovely.’

Although Matthew’s on his feet, he doesn’t move so

I go over to the cupboard and take out some cups.

‘Would you like one too?’ I ask him.