‘Yes, you did,’ he agrees. ‘Because it’s here.’
I look around. ‘Is there another lift?’
‘No.’
The fight goes out of me. ‘Well, I’m very sorry to have wasted your time,’ I say, desperate to be gone.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says, walking away with a wave of his hand.
In the safety of my car, I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, turning everything around in my mind, trying to work out how I managed to miss my car when I first came up to the fourth. The only conclusion I can come to is that I wasn’t on the fourth floor but on the fifth. How could I have made such a stupid, stupid mistake? Even worse is the thought of
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telling Matthew. If only he hadn’t phoned me earlier, if only I hadn’t told him that my car had been stolen. I know I should phone him to tell him that I’ve found it but I can’t bring myself to admit that I made a mistake.
I start the engine and head slowly for the exit, my mind heavy with exhaustion. At the barrier I realise that with everything that’s happened, I forgot to pay at the machine before leaving the fourth floor. I check my rear-view mirror; cars are already stacking up behind me, waiting impatiently for me to go through and, in a complete panic, I press the help button.
‘I forgot to pay!’ I shout, my voice shaking. A horn sounds behind me. ‘What do I do?’
Just as I’m wondering if he’s going to make me get out of the car and go to the nearest machine, incurring the wrath of half a dozen drivers, the barrier swings up.
‘Thank you,’ I mouth gratefully towards the box and before he can change his mind and bring the barrier down on top of me, I drive off with a crunch of gears.
As I head out of town I feel so agitated I know I should pull over and wait until I’m calmer before driving on. My mobile rings, giving me the perfect excuse for stopping, but guessing it’s Matthew I carry on. The thought of not going home, of staying in the car and driving until it runs out of petrol is tempting but I love Matthew too much to want to worry him more than is reasonable.
My mobile continues to ring on and off for the rest of the journey and, as I turn into the drive, Matthew The Breakdown
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comes hurrying out of the house. His face is twisted
with worry, and guilt tangles with my exhaustion.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks, opening my door before I’ve even got my seat belt off.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, reaching into the well of the passenger seat for my bag so that I don’t have to meet his eyes.
‘You could have let me know,’ he reproaches. ‘I’ve been worried.’
‘Sorry.’
‘What happened?’
‘False alarm. I was looking on the wrong floor.’
‘But you said you’d checked all the floors.’
‘Does it really matter? The car hasn’t been stolen, isn’t that enough?’
There’s a pause while he struggles not to ask me how I could have missed it. ‘You’re right,’ he says rallying. I get out of the car and go into the house. ‘You look all in. I’ll get dinner, if you like.’
‘Thanks. I’ll go and have a shower.’
I stay a long time in the bathroom and an even longer time getting into my old jogging pants in the bedroom, putting off the moment when I’ll have to face Matthew again. I feel so depressed that all I want is to fall into bed and sleep the rest of my horrible, horrible day away.
I keep expecting Matthew to call up to see where I am but the only noise that comes from the kitchen is the sound of the dinner being prepared.
When I finally go down, I make myself chat away about anything and everything – school, the weather,
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bumping into Connie – determined not to let him get a word in edgeways, determined to make him think that mislaying the car hasn’t fazed me at all. I even write the date of the Inset day on the calendar, telling him that I’m looking forward to seeing everybody again at the meeting and going back to work. But worry gnaws away inside me and I have to force myself to eat the risotto he’s made. I want to tell him about the car I suspect was parked outside the house earlier but how can I after what’s happened? All it will sound like is more hysteria, more paranoia on my part.
FRIDAY AUGUST 14th