The Breakdown(8)
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trip or on holiday, she always brings back two identical
tea towels, one for me and one for her. ‘Thank you, you
have the same one, I hope?’
‘Of course.’ Her face becomes suddenly serious. ‘Did
you hear about the woman who was found dead in her
car last night, on that road that goes through the woods
between here and Castle Wells?’
I swallow quickly, fold the tea towel in half, then in
quarters and bend to put it in my bag. ‘Yes, Matthew
told me, it was on the news,’ I say, my head beneath
the table.
She waits until I’m sitting straight again, then gives
a shudder. ‘It’s horrible, isn’t it? The police think she broke down.’
‘Do they?’
‘Yeah.’ She pulls a face. ‘How awful – imagine
breaking down in the middle of a storm, in the middle
of nowhere. I don’t even want to think about it.’
It takes everything I’ve got not to blurt out that I was
there, that I saw the woman in the car. But something
stops me. This place is too crowded and Rachel is already emotionally invested in the story. I’m afraid she’ll judge me, be horrified that I did nothing to help. ‘Me neither,’
I say.
‘You sometimes use that road, don’t you? You didn’t
take it last night, did you?’
‘No, I’d never take that road, not when I’m by myself.’
I feel my skin reddening and I’m sure she’ll know that
I’ve just lied.
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31
But she carries on, unaware. ‘Just as well. It could
have been you.’
‘Except that I wouldn’t have broken down,’ I say.
She laughs, breaking the tension. ‘You don’t know
that! She might not have broken down. It’s only suppo—
sition. Maybe somebody flagged her down, pretending
they were in trouble. Anybody would stop if they saw
someone in trouble, wouldn’t they?’
‘Would they, though? On a lonely road and in a
storm?’ I desperately want the answer to be no.
‘Well, not unless they didn’t have a conscience. Nobody
would just drive on. They’d at least do something.’
Her words slam through me and tears prick my eyes.
The guilt I feel is almost unbearable. I don’t want Rachel to be able to see how much her words have affected me so I lower my head and fix my eyes on the vase of orange flowers sitting between us on the table. To my horror,
the petals begin to blur and I reach down hastily and
grope in my bag for a tissue.
‘Cass? Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t seem it.’
I hear the concern in her voice and blow my nose,
giving myself time. The need to tell someone is overwhelming. ‘I don’t know why, but I didn’t…’ I stop.
‘Didn’t what?’ Rachel looks puzzled.
I open my mouth to tell her but then I realise that
if I do, not only will she be appalled that I drove on
without checking that the woman was all right, she’ll
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also catch me out in a lie, because I’ve already said that I didn’t go home that way last night.
I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say miserably.
‘It obviously does. Tell me, Cass.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
I scrunch the tissue with my fingers. ‘Because I’m
ashamed.’
‘Ashamed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ashamed of what?’ When I don’t say anything she
gives a sigh of exasperation. ‘Come on, Cass, just tell
me! It can’t be that bad!’ Her impatience makes me
even more nervous so I look for something to tell her,
something she’ll believe.
‘I forgot about Susie,’ I blurt out, hating myself for
using what is just a mundane issue compared to the
woman’s death. ‘I forgot that I was meant to have bought
her something.’
A frown appears on her face. ‘What do you mean,
forgot?’
‘I can’t remember, that’s all. I can’t remember what
we decided to buy her.’
She looks at me in astonishment. ‘But it was your
idea! You said that as Stephen is taking her to Venice
for her birthday, we should buy her some lightweight
luggage. We were in the bar near my office at the time,’
she adds helpfully.
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I let relief show on my face, although the words mean
nothing to me. ‘Of course! I remember now – God, I’m
so stupid! I thought it must be perfume or something.’