began to regret what she had done? Hating where my
thoughts are going I turn off the water and get out of
the shower. The sudden silence is unsettling so I locate
the radio on my phone, hoping to hear someone belting
out a song full of hope and cheer, anything to stop me
from thinking about the woman in the car.
‘. . . a woman has been found dead in her car in Blackwater Lane in the early hours of the morning. Her death is being treated as suspicious. No further details have been given for the moment but the police are advising people living in the area to be vigilant.’
Shock takes my breath away. Her death is being treated as suspicious. The words resonate around the bathroom.
Isn’t that what the police say when someone has been
murdered? I feel suddenly frightened. I was there, in the same spot. Had the killer been there too, lurking in the bushes, waiting for the opportunity to kill someone?
The thought that it could have been me, that I could
have been the one to be murdered makes me suddenly
dizzy. I grope for the towel rail, forcing myself to take deep breaths. I must have been mad to have gone that way last night.
In the bedroom, I dress quickly in a black cotton
dress, pulling it from a pile of clothes left on the chair.
Downstairs, the smell of grilled sausages turns my
stomach before I’ve even opened the kitchen door.
‘I thought we’d celebrate the start of your holidays
with a slap-up breakfast,’ Matthew says. He looks so
22
b a paris
happy that I force a smile onto my face, not wanting to
spoil it for him.
‘Lovely.’ I want to tell him about last night, I want
to tell him that I could have been murdered, I want to
share my horror with him because it seems too big a
thing to keep to myself. But if I tell him that I came back through the woods, especially after he told me not to, he’ll be furious. It won’t matter that I’m here, sitting in the kitchen unharmed, not lying murdered in my car.
He’ll feel like I do, scared at what could have happened, appalled that I put myself in danger.
‘So what time are you going shopping?’ he asks. He’s
wearing a grey t-shirt and thin cotton shorts and at any
other time I’d be thinking how lucky I was that he was
mine. But I can barely look his way. It feels as if my
secret is burnt on my skin.
‘As soon as I’ve finished breakfast.’ I look through the
window to the back garden, trying to concentrate on
how lovely it looks but my mind keeps tripping over last
night, over the memory of me driving away. She had
been alive at that point, the woman in the car.
‘Is Rachel going with you?’ Matthew interrupts my
thoughts.
‘No.’ Suddenly, it seems like the best idea in the world
because maybe I could tell her about last night, share
the devastation I feel. ‘Actually, that’s a good idea. I’ll phone and ask her.’
‘Don’t be long,’ he says. ‘It’s almost ready.’
‘I’ll only be a minute.’
The Breakdown
23
I go into the hall, take the house phone – we can
only get mobile reception upstairs in our house - and
dial Rachel’s number. It takes her a while to answer and
when she does her voice is heavy with sleep.
‘I’ve woken you,’ I say, feeling bad, suddenly remembering she only got back from her trip to New York yesterday.
‘It feels like the middle of the night,’ she says grumpily.
‘What time is it?’
‘Nine-thirty.’
‘So it is the middle of the night. Did you get my text?’
The question throws me and I pause, a headache
building behind my eyes. ‘Yes, but I haven’t bought
anything for Susie yet.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been really busy,’ I say quickly, remembering
that for some reason Rachel thinks we’re buying something together. ‘I thought I’d wait until today in case we changed our minds about what to get her,’ I add,
hoping to prompt her into revealing what we’d decided.
‘Why would we? Everybody agreed yours was the
best idea. Plus the party’s tonight, Cass!’
The word ‘everybody’ throws me. ‘Well, you never
know,’ I say evasively. ‘I don’t suppose you want to come with me, do you?’
‘I’d love to but I’m so jet-lagged…’
‘Not even if I buy you lunch?’
There’s a pause. ‘At Costello’s?’
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b a paris
‘Done. Let’s meet in the café in Fentons at eleven,
then I can buy you a coffee as well.’
I hear her yawning and then a rustle. ‘Can I think
about it?’
‘No, you can’t,’ I tell her firmly. ‘Come on, out of
bed. I’ll see you there.’
I hang up feeling a little lighter, pushing Susie’s present from my mind. After the news this morning, it feels a small worry in comparison.
I go back to the kitchen and sit down at the table.
‘How does that look?’ Matthew asks, swooping a plate
of sausages, bacon and eggs in front of me.
It looks like I could never eat it but I smile enthusi—
astically. ‘Great! Thanks.’
He sits down next to me and picks up his knife and