Tuesday after I get back – the Monday’s a Bank Holiday.
It’ll be my first day back at work so it’ll be nice to have something to look forward to. And you don’t go back to school until the Wednesday, do you?’
‘No, so lunch on the Tuesday will be lovely. At the Sour Grapes?’
‘I’ll see you there.’
I hang up, realising that there are only two weeks of the summer holidays left. A blessing and a curse. I can’t wait to be away from the house, away from the calls.
But all the work looming over me makes going back to school seem impossible.
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b a paris
‘Ready?’ I look up and see Matthew standing there.
He’s dressed smartly in khaki trousers and a polo shirt and is carrying a small sports bag.
‘Ready?’ I frown.
‘For our afternoon at the spa.’
I nod and force a smile but I’m not ready because I’d completely forgotten that at the restaurant yesterday, he’d surprised me with a couples booking for this afternoon at a spa near Chichester. We went there just after we got engaged, and his gesture last night had eased the tension that remained after the conversation about our new neighbour.
‘I just need to put my shoes on,’ I say, smoothing
down the cotton skirt I’d put on this morning instead of the shorts I would have normally worn. So maybe, this morning, I had remembered about the spa.
I run upstairs and stuff a bikini into a bag, thinking about what else I might need.
‘We need to go, Cass!’
‘Coming!’ I pull off the vest top I’m wearing and
open the wardrobe door, looking for something a little smarter. I take out a white cotton shirt with tiny buttons and shrug it on. In the bathroom I run a brush through my hair. I’m just about to put some make-up on when Matthew calls again from downstairs.
‘Cass, did you hear me, the booking is for two o’clock!’
I glance at the clock and realise that we only have forty-five minutes to get to Chichester. ‘Sorry,’ I say, running down the stairs. ‘I was looking for my bikini.’
The Breakdown
219
We get in the car and as we pull out of the drive I
lean my head back and close my eyes. I feel exhausted, but here in the car with Matthew, where no dangers can reach me, I also feel safe. We turn a sudden corner and, thrown against the door, I open my eyes and blink a couple of times, trying to work out where we are. And then I realise.
‘Matthew!’ I hear the fear in my voice. ‘We’re heading the wrong way!’
He glances over at me and frowns. ‘We’re going to
Chichester.’
‘I know, but why are we going down Blackwater
Lane!’ The words feel thick on my tongue.
‘Because this way will take ten minutes off our
journey time. We’ll be late otherwise.’
My heart thumps. I don’t want to go this way, I can’t!
Through the windscreen I see the lay-by coming up and my mind starts spiralling. Panic-stricken, I turn towards the door, my fingers reaching for the handle.
‘Cass!’ Matthew cries, alarm in his voice. ‘What are you doing? You can’t just get out of the car! We’re going at forty!’ He slams his foot on the brake and the car jolts, throwing me forward. He brings it hurriedly to a stop, just opposite the lay-by where Jane was killed. Someone has laid flowers and the plastic wrapping flutters in the breeze. Horrified to be back where my nightmare began, I burst into tears.
‘No!’ I sob. ‘Please, Matthew, we can’t stop here!’
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‘Oh God,’ he says wearily. He slips the car into gear, about to move on, then stops. ‘This is crazy.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I sob.
‘What do you want me to do? Shall I keep driving?
Or do you want to go home?’ He sounds at the end of his tether.
I’m crying so hard I can hardly breathe. He reaches over and tries to put his arms around me but I shrug him off. Sighing, he starts doing a three-point turn in the middle of the road, turning the car back the way we came.
‘No,’ I tell him, still sobbing. ‘I can’t go home, I just can’t.’
He stops in mid-manoeuvre, leaving the car dangerously at an angle. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I don’t want to go home, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’ His voice is calm but I can sense a tension underneath it, hiding something more serious.
‘I just don’t feel safe there anymore.’
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘Is this about the murder again? Come on, Cass, the murderer isn’t anywhere near our house and he doesn’t know who you are. I know Jane’s murder has upset you but you need to get over it.’
I round on him furiously. ‘How can I get over it when her killer still hasn’t been caught?’
‘So what do you want me to do? I’ve alarmed the
whole house for you. Do you want me to drop you off The Breakdown
221
at a hotel somewhere? Is that what you want? Because
if it is, just tell me and I’ll do it!’