The name hits me with the force of a sledgehammer.
‘What? Did you say Jane Walters?’
‘Yes.’
My mind spins. ‘No, it can’t be. It’s not possible.’
‘That’s what Susie said,’ Rachel insists.
The Breakdown
45
‘But… but I had lunch with her.’ I’m so stunned I can
hardly speak. ‘I had lunch with her and she was fine. It
must be a mistake.’
‘You had lunch with her?’ Rachel sounds puzzled.
‘When? I mean, how did you know her?’
‘I met her at that leaving party you took me to, for that man who worked in your company, Colin. You know, the one you said it was all right for me to tag along to because there’d be so many people nobody would notice
that I didn’t work for Finchlakers. I got talking to her at the bar and we swapped phone numbers, and then a few days later, she called me. I told you when you phoned from New York, I said I was going to lunch with her
the next day, at least I thought I did.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Rachel says gently, understanding how distressed I am. ‘And even if you did, even if you’d told me her name, I wouldn’t have known who
she was. I’m so sorry, Cass, you must feel dreadful.’
‘I was meant to be going round to hers next week,’ I
say, realising. ‘To meet her little daughters.’ Tears spring to my eyes.
‘It’s horrible, isn’t it? And awful to think of her killer being out there somewhere.’ I hear her hesitate. ‘I don’t want to worry you, Cass, but your house must only be a couple of miles from where she was killed and well, it is a bit isolated, stuck down the end of the road by itself.’
‘Oh,’ I manage, feeling sick. Because in all the turmoil
and worry, I hadn’t thought about the killer still being
46
b a paris
out there. And that we can only get a mobile signal if
we’re upstairs, by a window.
‘You don’t have an alarm, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Then promise you’ll lock the door when you’re home
by yourself?’
‘Yes – yes, of course I will,’ I tell her, desperate to
get away, to stop talking about the woman who was
murdered.
‘Sorry, Rachel, I have to go,’ I add hurriedly.
‘Matthew’s calling me.’
I slam the phone down and burst into tears. I don’t
want to believe what Rachel just told me, I don’t want
to believe that the young woman who was murdered in
her car was Jane, my new friend who would, I felt, have
become a great friend. We had met by chance, at the
party I had gone to by chance, as if we’d been destined
to meet. Still sobbing, as clear as if it’s happening before my eyes, I see her edging towards the bar at Bedales.
*
‘Excuse me, are you waiting to be served?’ she asked, smiling at me.
‘No, don’t worry, I’m waiting for my husband to pick me up.’
I moved aside a little to make room for her. ‘You can squeeze in here, if you like.’
‘Thanks. It’s a good job I’m not desperate for a drink,’ she joked, referring to the number of people waiting to be served.
The Breakdown
47
‘I didn’t realise Colin had invited so many people.’ She looked quizzically at me and I noticed how blue her eyes were. ‘I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to Finchlakers?’
‘I don’t actual y work for Finchlakers,’ I admitted guiltily. ‘I came with a friend. I know it’s a private function but she said there’d be so many people nobody would notice if there was an extra person. My husband’s watching the match with friends tonight and she felt sorry for me being on my own.’
‘She sounds like a good friend.’
‘Yes, Rachel’s great.’
‘Rachel Baretto?’
‘Do you know her?’
‘No, not real y.’ She smiled brightly at me. ‘My husband’s watching the match tonight too. And babysitting our two-year old twins.’
‘How lovely to have twins! What are their names?’
‘Charlotte and Louise, better known as Lottie and Loulou.’
She took her mobile from her pocket and thumbed through photos. ‘Alex – my husband – keeps tel ing me not to do this, at least not to total strangers, but I can’t help it.’ She held the phone for me to see. ‘Here they are.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ I told her truthful y. ‘They look like two little angels in those white dresses. Which is which?’
‘This one is Lottie and that’s Loulou.’
‘Are they identical? They seem it to me.’
‘Not exactly but it’s quite difficult for most people to tell them apart.’
‘I bet. Oh, I think it’s your turn.’
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b a paris
She turned and saw the barman waiting to take her order.
‘Oh good. A glass of South African red, please.’ And turning back to me, ‘Can I get you something?’
‘Matthew will be here soon but—’ I hesitated a moment ‘—I’m not driving, so why not? Thank you. I’ll have a glass of dry white.’
‘My name’s Jane, by the way.’