The Breakdown(79)

‘I’m sure it will happen for you soon,’ she says.

‘I hope so.’

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, I did think buying the pram was perhaps a little premature. I’m not sure what exactly we can do but if I ask our manager, I’m sure she’d agree to take it back at a slightly discounted price.’

‘I haven’t come here to try and give the pram back,’

I reassure her, realising that’s what she thinks. ‘I’m very happy to keep it. I just wanted to say hello.’

‘I’m very glad you did.’

The Breakdown





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I say goodbye and walk towards the door, amazed at


how good I feel.

‘By the way, it was the right pram, wasn’t it? The

navy blue one?’

‘Yes,’ I say smiling.

‘Thank goodness for that. Your friend would have

shot me if I’d got it wrong.’

I go into the street, her words echoing in my ears. Your friend. Had I misunderstood? Had she been referring to the couple who’d been in the shop at the same time as me? Maybe, once I’d left the shop that day, she hadn’t been sure which pram I’d ordered and had asked them if it was definitely the blue one I’d wanted. But she had said friend and not friends and, anyway, she knew that they were just people who happened to be in the shop at the same time as me. So who was she talking about?

Even though the truth is staring me in the face, I

don’t want to believe it. The only person who knew I was in the shop that day was John, and I don’t want to believe that he arranged to have the pram sent to me because then I’d have to ask why. My head reeling again, I cross back over the road and head for Costas, where we’d gone after I bumped into him coming out of the Baby Boutique. I order a coffee and sit at the window, my eyes fixed on the shop over the road, trying to work out what could have happened.

It could be fairly innocent. John has always had a soft spot for me so maybe when he went to the shop and mentioned that I’d suggested he buy a sleep-suit for his





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friend’s baby, the assistant had talked about my supposed pregnancy quite naturally and, delighted for me, he decided to buy me a present. But surely he wouldn’t have chosen something as expensive as a pram, and if it was a gift, why had he sent it anonymously? And why, when we met a while later in Browbury, didn’t he mention either my pregnancy or the pram? Had he

been embarrassed about what he’d done? None of it

made any sense.

The alternative, that it wasn’t innocent at all, makes my heart pound. Had John been following me that day, had he been following me the day he’d knocked on my car window in Browbury? When I think about it now, it was unusual that I bumped into him twice in less than ten days. Had he arranged to have the pram sent to me anonymously to frighten me? He couldn’t know that I would think I’d sent it myself because he hadn’t known at that point about my dementia. I’d only told him about that over lunch in Browbury. And why would he do any of this? Because he loves you, a voice whispers in my mind and my hearts thuds painfully. He loves me enough to hate me?

When I realise that everything points to John being my silent caller, I feel sick. He knew how nervous I’d been since Jane’s murder and when I’d mention the isolated position of our house he had pointed out that there were other houses nearby. But he’s never been to my house so how would he know? I’m suddenly so angry at him that I have to stop myself from going straight The Breakdown





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to the Spotted Cow and confronting him in front of


Rachel. But, before I do, I need to be absolutely sure of everything.

I turn it around in my head, looking at it from every angle, but no matter how much I don’t want it to be true, all the facts are screaming that I’ve found my tormentor.

I think back to July, when I’d shouted at my silent caller to leave me alone, and John had taken on his real persona and pretended surprise. All along it had been him. And I had apologised and told him that I’d been receiving nuisance calls from a call centre. How he must have laughed to himself as he pretended he’d phoned to invite me for a drink with Connie. I’d told him that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it because Matthew had taken the following two days off. And on those days, there hadn’t been any calls. Even the timing matches; with school closed, he has had the whole summer to devote to terrifying me. But it seems so insane. If someone had told me this morning that John was my silent caller I would have laughed in their face.

Then something occurs to me and I feel as if I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer. On the night of Jane’s murder, John didn’t go back to Connie’s. He and Jane used to play tennis together, he had told me that himself. Is it possible they had been lovers? Had he gone to meet her that night? Is it possible that he murdered Jane? The answer has to be no. And then I remember him saying that his girlfriend, who none of us had ever met, was no longer on the scene.





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And what about Rachel? If she and John are together, she could be in terrible danger. But if she and John are together, maybe she knows what he’s done. I feel suddenly breathless. There are so many scenarios going round in my head that I’m tempted to go straight back home without going anywhere near The Spotted Cow.