fork. ‘How’s Rachel?’
‘Fine. She’s going to come with me.’ I look at my
plate, wondering how I’m going to do it justice. I take
a couple of mouthfuls but my stomach rebels so I push
the rest around for a bit, then give up. ‘I’m really sorry,’
I say, putting my knife and fork down. ‘I’m still full after the meal last night.’
He reaches over with his fork and spears a sausage. ‘It’s a shame to let it go to waste,’ he says, grinning.
‘Help yourself.’
His blue eyes hold my gaze, not letting it shift away.
‘Are you OK? You seem a bit quiet.’
I blink quickly a couple of times, sending the tears that are threatening my eyes back to where they came from.
The Breakdown
25
‘I can’t stop thinking about that woman,’ I say. It’s such a relief to be able to talk about it that my words come out in a rush. ‘They said on the radio that the police are treating her death as suspicious.’
He takes a bite of sausage. ‘That means she was
murdered, then.’
‘Does it?’ I ask, even though I know that it does.
‘That’s usually what they say until all the forensics
have been done. God, how awful. I just don’t understand
why she would put herself at risk, taking that road at
night. I know she couldn’t have known that she’d be
murdered, but still.’
‘Maybe she broke down,’ I say, clenching my hands
together under the table.
‘Well, she must have. Why else would anyone stop
along such a deserted road? Poor thing, she must have
been terrified. There’s no phone signal in the woods so
she must have been praying that someone would come
along to help her – and look what happened when they
did.’
I draw in my breath, a silent gasp of shock. It’s as if
a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown over me,
waking me up, making me face up to the enormity of
what I did. I had told myself that she had already phoned for help – yet I knew there was no signal in the woods.
Why had I done that? Because I’d forgotten? Or because
it had allowed me to leave with a clear conscience? Well, my conscience isn’t clear now. I had left her to her fate, I had left her to be murdered.
26
b a paris
I push my chair back. ‘I’d better go,’ I tell him, busily picking up our empty mugs, praying he doesn’t ask me if I’m OK again. ‘I don’t want to keep Rachel waiting.’
‘Why, what time are you meeting her?’
‘Eleven. But you know how busy the town is on
Saturdays.’
‘Did I hear that you’re having lunch with her?’
‘Yes.’ I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, wanting
to be gone. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I fetch my bag and take the car keys from the hall
table. Matthew follows me to the door, a piece of toast
in his hand.
‘I don’t suppose you could pick up my jacket from the
cleaner’s, could you? That way I can wear it tonight.’
‘Sure, have you got the ticket?’
‘Yes, hang on.’ He fetches his wallet and hands me a
pink ticket. ‘It’s paid for.’
I slip it into my bag and open the front door. Sunlight
streams into the hall.
‘Take care,’ he calls as I get into the car.
‘I will. Love you.’
‘I love you more!’
*
The road into Browbury is already heavy with traffic.
I tap the steering wheel nervously. In my haste to get
away from the house I hadn’t thought about how it
would feel to be in the car again, sitting in the same
The Breakdown
27
seat I’d been in when I saw the woman in the car. In an
attempt to distract myself I try to remember the present
I’d suggested for Susie. She works in the same company
as Rachel, in the Admin section. When Rachel said that
everybody had agreed to my suggestion I’m guessing
she was referring to their group of friends from work.
The last time we’d met up with them had been around a
month ago and I remember Rachel talking about Susie’s
fortieth birthday party, taking advantage of the fact that she hadn’t been able to join us that night. Was it then that I’d come up with an idea for a present?
By some miracle, I find a parking space in the street
not far from Fenton’s department store and make my
way to the tea room on the fifth floor. It’s crowded
but Rachel is already there, easily visible in a bright
yellow sundress, her dark head of curls bent over her
mobile. Two cups of coffee sit on the table in front of
her and I feel a sudden rush of gratitude for the way she always looks out for me. Five years older, she’s the sister I never had. Our mothers had been friends and because her mother worked long hours to support the two of them – having been abandoned by her husband not long
after Rachel was born – Rachel had spent a large part
of her childhood at our house, to such an extent that