The Breakdown(74)

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‘No, I would have noticed if there’d been any missing,’

Matthew says. ‘It’s usually me that gives them to her, you see, before I leave for work in the mornings. That way I know she’s not going to forget to take them.’

He pauses. ‘I don’t know if you know – I told one of the nurses – but there’s a possibility that my wife has early-onset dementia.’

While they talk about my possible dementia I try to work out if I somehow took the pills from my drawer without knowing what I was doing. I don’t want to believe that I did but when I remember how wretched, how hopeless I’d felt and how I had craved oblivion, maybe, after taking the two pills that Matthew had brought me, I’d reached into the drawer and taken the others. Had I subconsciously wanted to end the life that had suddenly become unbearable?

Already weakened by what I’ve been through, the

remaining energy I have drains out of me. Exhausted, I lie back on my pillow and close my eyes against the tears seeping from their corners.

‘Cass, are you all right?’

‘I’m tired,’ I murmur.

‘I think it’s best if you leave her to sleep,’ the doctor says.

I feel Matthew lips on my cheek. ‘I’ll be back

tomorrow,’ he promises.

MONDAY SEPTEMBER 28th

In the end, I had to admit to taking the pills, because the evidence was there in my bloodstream. I admitted that I’d had some pills hidden away in my drawer but insisted that I hadn’t stockpiled them with the intention of killing myself, explaining I had simply put them there because on the days when Matthew was at home with me I hadn’t felt the need to take them. When they asked why I couldn’t have told Matthew that, I found myself explaining that I hadn’t wanted him to know that the pills knocked me out to the point where I couldn’t do anything. Matthew, looking sceptical, pointed out that what I’d said wasn’t strictly true because, as far as he was concerned, I was still able to function at an acceptable level. So I amended it to barely knew what I was doing.

The only good thing is that because I took so few, they put it down to a cry for help and not an intention to kill myself.

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





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When Matthew brought me home the following

evening the first thing I did was go upstairs to the bedroom and look in the drawer. The pills had gone. I know that Matthew doesn’t believe I took them accidentally even though he hasn’t actually come out and said it. But it feels like another nail in the coffin of our relationship. It’s not Matthew’s fault; I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to go from a wife who, at the beginning of the summer, was a little absent-minded to a wife who, by the end of the summer, is demented, paranoid and suicidal.

He insisted on taking the rest of the week off, even though I told him he didn’t have to. In truth, I would have preferred him to go to work because I wanted to be able to think about where I was going. My accidental overdose made me realise how precious life was, and I was determined to get back in control of mine while I still could. I started off by refusing to take the new blue pills that had been prescribed for me, telling Matthew I preferred to try to cope without them because I needed to get back to living in the real world.

With everything that had happened, I forgot that I

was meant to be going out with Rachel – or maybe I would have forgotten anyway – so I was nowhere near ready when she turned up on the doorstep on Friday evening.

‘If you just give me ten minutes,’ I said, happy to see her. ‘I’m sure Matthew will make you a cup of tea while you’re waiting.’

The Breakdown





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Matthew looked at me in surprise. ‘You’re not seri-


ously going out, are you?’

‘Why not?’ I frowned. ‘I’m not an invalid.’

‘Yes, but after what happened.’ He turned to Rachel.

‘You do know that Cass has been in hospital, don’t you?’

‘No, I had no idea.’ Rachel looked shocked. ‘Why?

What happened?’

‘I’ll tell you over dinner,’ I said hurriedly. I looked at Matthew, daring him to tell me I couldn’t go. ‘You don’t mind looking after yourself tonight, do you?’

‘Not at all, it’s just…’

‘I’m fine,’ I insisted.

‘Are you sure, Cass?’ Rachel said uncertainly. ‘If

you’ve been ill…’

‘A night out is exactly what I need,’ I told her firmly.

Ten minutes later we were on our way and I used the journey to Browbury to tell her about my accidental overdose. She was horrified that the pills could subconsciously make me do something so dangerous and was only happy when I reassured her that I didn’t intend taking any more medication. Luckily, she understood that I didn’t want to talk about what had happened and for the rest of the evening we talked about other things.

Then on Saturday – ten weeks since my life fell apart – Matthew brought me tea in the mug that had caused so much fuss on Monday afternoon and I found myself going over everything again. In my mind I could see the mug standing clearly on the side and, although my mind can’t always be trusted, I was pretty sure that I hadn’t