Reaching out, I run a finger down his cheek, thinking how much I love him. I hate that he’s seen a side of me that even I didn’t know existed, I hate that he must be wondering what on earth he got himself into by marrying me. Would he still have married me if I’d been honest with him and told him that Mum had been diagnosed with dementia at the age of forty-four? It’s a question that’s plaguing me. It’s also a question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to.
The need to show him how much I appreciate him focuses my mind. Planning to bring him breakfast in bed, I throw the covers off, swing my legs from the bed and sit for a moment, because it seems too much of an
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effort to actually stand. My eyes fall on Matthew’s work clothes neatly laid out on the chair – a clean shirt, a different tie to the one he wore yesterday – and I realise it’s not Saturday but Wednesday, and that for just about the first time since I’ve known him, Matthew has slept through his alarm.
Knowing he’ll be appalled, I reach over to shake him awake – then stop, my hand poised in mid-air. If I let him carry on sleeping, he might still be around when my caller checks in. And then he could hear the call for himself.
My heart pounding, because here I am, about to deceive him again, I lie back down and pull the covers over me quietly. I face the clock, hardly daring to breathe in case I wake him, watching the hands as they move painfully slowly towards eight-thirty, then eight-forty-five. I feel bad making him late for work but I tell myself that if he had taken the calls seriously, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. Yet how can I blame him for not taking them seriously when I’ve never told him that I saw Jane in her car that night? If I had, he would have understood why I think they’re coming from the murderer.
He wakes of his own accord just before nine, leaping out of bed with a cry of alarm.
‘Cass! Cass, have you seen the time? It’s almost nine!’
I do a good impression of someone roused from a deep sleep.
‘What? No, it can’t be.’
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‘It is! Look!’
Rubbing my eyes, I sit up. ‘What happened to your alarm? Did you forget to put it on?’
‘No, I must have slept right through it. Didn’t you hear it?’
‘No, otherwise I would have woken you up.’ The lie slips easily out of my mouth and sounds so false that I’m sure he’s going to realise I knew all along. But he’s distracted, looking between the clock and his clothes, his hand in his hair, trying to understand how it could have happened.
‘Even with the best will in the world I’m not going to make it to the office before ten,’ he groans.
‘Does it really matter? You’re never late and you often work longer hours than you should,’ I point out.
‘No, I suppose not,’ he concedes.
‘Then why don’t you shower while I make breakfast?’
‘All right.’ He reaches for his phone. ‘I’d better let Valerie know.’
He calls Valerie to tell her he won’t be in until ten and leaving him to shave and shower I go down to the kitchen, feeling as tense as I always do, despite Matthew’s presence. I never thought I would actually want my silent caller to phone but the thought that he might not makes me sick with apprehension. Because if he doesn’t, it means he knows Matthew is here.
‘Not hungry?’ Matthew asks over breakfast, looking at my empty plate.
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‘Not at the moment. If the phone rings,’ I go on hesitantly, ‘will you answer it? If it is one of those calls, I’d like you to hear it for yourself.’
‘As long as they phone within the next ten minutes.’
‘And if they don’t?’
He frowns, then tries to look sympathetic but the cracks are starting to show. ‘I can’t hang around all day, sweetheart.’
Less than ten minutes later, my prayers are answered.
The phone starts ringing and we go through to the hall together. He lifts the receiver and checks the number.
It’s withheld.
‘Don’t say anything,’ I whisper. ‘Just listen.’
‘OK.’
He takes the call and after listening for a few seconds he reaches out and puts on the loudspeaker so that I can hear the silence for myself. I can see that he’s dying to say something, to ask who is there, so I put my finger on my lips and motion to him to hang up.
‘Is that it?’ he asks, unimpressed.
‘Yes. It wasn’t the same, though.’ The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them.
‘What do you mean, it wasn’t the same?’
‘I don’t know, there was just something different about it.’
‘In what way?’
I shrug, my face flushing. ‘Usually I can sense someone there. Today I couldn’t. The silence – it was different.’
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‘Silence is silence, Cass.’ He checks his watch. ‘I’m
going to have to get going.’ I stand there mutely and he gives my shoulder a squeeze. ‘Maybe it sounded different because it was on loudspeaker.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re not convinced.’
‘It’s just that the calls are usually more menacing.’
‘Menacing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, maybe that’s because you’re usually on your own when they come through. There’s nothing sinister in the calls, sweetheart, so stop thinking there is. It’s just some call centre trying to get through, that’s all. ‘