I stand, my mug in my hand. ‘I think I’ll go and lie
down for a bit.’
He looks at me, concerned. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?
You don’t look great. Perhaps we shouldn’t go to the
party tonight?’
I smile sympathetically because he’s not a party person,
he’d much rather have friends over for a casual dinner.
‘We have to, it’s Susie’s fortieth.’
‘Even if you still have a headache?’ I hear the ‘but’ in
his voice and sigh.
‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to
talk to Rachel.’
‘I don’t mind talking to her, it’s just those disapproving looks she always gives me. She makes me feel as if I’ve done something wrong. Did you remember to get my jacket from the cleaner’s, by the way?’
My heart sinks. ‘No, sorry, I forgot.’
‘Oh. Well, never mind, I guess I can wear something
else.’
‘Sorry,’ I say again, thinking of the present and all
the other things I’ve forgotten lately. A few weeks ago,
42
b a paris
he had to come and rescue me and my trolley-load of
food at the supermarket when I left my purse on the
kitchen table. Since then, he’s found milk where the
detergent should be and detergent in the fridge and has
had to deal with an angry call from my dentist over an
appointment I forgot I’d made. So far he’s laughed it
off, telling me I’m in overload because of the end of the school year. But like with Susie’s present, there have been other times when my memory has failed me, times he doesn’t know about. I’ve driven to school without my books, forgotten both a hair appointment and a lunch
with Rachel, and last month I drove twenty-five miles
to Castle Wells, unaware I’d left my bag at home. The
thing is, although he knows that Mum died when she
was fifty-five and that towards the end she was forgetful, I’ve never actually come out and told him that for the three years before she died, I had to wash, dress and feed her. Neither does he know that she was diagnosed with dementia when she was forty-four, just ten years older than I am now. Back then, I couldn’t believe he would
still marry me if he thought there was a possibility that a dozen or so years down the line, I’d be diagnosed with the same thing.
I know now he would do anything for me but too
much time has passed. How can I admit that I held
things back from him? He’d been so open about not
being able to have children and I’d repaid his honesty
with dishonesty, I’d allowed my own selfish fears to get
The Breakdown
43
in the way of the truth. How I’m paying for that now, I think as I lie down on the bed.
I try to relax but images of last night flash through
my mind, one after the other, like stills in a film. I see the car ahead of me on the road, I see myself swerving out around it, I see myself turning my head to look at the driver. And then I see the blur of a woman’s face,
looking back at me through the window.
*
In the middle of the afternoon, Matthew comes to find
me. ‘I think I’ll go to the gym for a couple of hours.
Unless you want to go for a walk or something?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I say, grateful to have some time on my
own. ‘I need to sort through the stuff I brought back
from school. If I don’t do it now, I never will.’
He nods. ‘Then we can both have a well-deserved
glass of wine when I get back.’
‘Deal,’ I say, accepting his kiss. ‘Have fun.’
I hear the front door slam but instead of going into
the study to sort out my work things I stay at the kitchen table and let my mind clamber over the thoughts in my head. The house phone rings; it’s Rachel.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ she says breathlessly. ‘You
know that young woman who was murdered? Well, it
turns out she worked in my company.’
‘Oh God,’ I mutter.
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‘I know, it’s awful, isn’t it? Susie’s in bits. She feels terrible and is cancelling the party – she just can’t bring herself to celebrate when the murder was of someone we knew.’
I feel a slight relief at not having to go out, but also
slightly sick that the murdered woman is becoming ever
more real.
‘Although I didn’t really know her because she worked
in a different division to me,’ Rachel continues, before
hesitating a moment. ‘Actually, I feel really bad because when I went into the office from the airport yesterday, I had an argument with someone over a parking space and I think it was her. I was quite verbal – it was the
jet-lag talking – and now I wish I’d let it go.’
‘You weren’t to know,’ I say automatically.
‘Susie said the people who worked with her are devastated. Some of them know her husband and, apparently, he’s absolutely distraught – well, he would be, of course.
And now he’s been left to bring up two-year-old twins
by himself.’
‘Twins?’ The word echoes through my head.
‘Yes, twin girls. It’s such a tragedy.’
I go ice cold. ‘What was her name?’
‘Jane Walters, Susie said.’