With everything that had happened, I forgot that I
was meant to be going out with Rachel – or maybe I would have forgotten anyway – so I was nowhere near ready when she turned up on the doorstep on Friday evening.
‘If you just give me ten minutes,’ I said, happy to see her. ‘I’m sure Matthew will make you a cup of tea while you’re waiting.’
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Matthew looked at me in surprise. ‘You’re not seri-
ously going out, are you?’
‘Why not?’ I frowned. ‘I’m not an invalid.’
‘Yes, but after what happened.’ He turned to Rachel.
‘You do know that Cass has been in hospital, don’t you?’
‘No, I had no idea.’ Rachel looked shocked. ‘Why?
What happened?’
‘I’ll tell you over dinner,’ I said hurriedly. I looked at Matthew, daring him to tell me I couldn’t go. ‘You don’t mind looking after yourself tonight, do you?’
‘Not at all, it’s just…’
‘I’m fine,’ I insisted.
‘Are you sure, Cass?’ Rachel said uncertainly. ‘If
you’ve been ill…’
‘A night out is exactly what I need,’ I told her firmly.
Ten minutes later we were on our way and I used the journey to Browbury to tell her about my accidental overdose. She was horrified that the pills could subconsciously make me do something so dangerous and was only happy when I reassured her that I didn’t intend taking any more medication. Luckily, she understood that I didn’t want to talk about what had happened and for the rest of the evening we talked about other things.
Then on Saturday – ten weeks since my life fell apart – Matthew brought me tea in the mug that had caused so much fuss on Monday afternoon and I found myself going over everything again. In my mind I could see the mug standing clearly on the side and, although my mind can’t always be trusted, I was pretty sure that I hadn’t
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put it in the dishwasher before leaving the kitchen. So who had? The only person with a key to the house, apart from me, is Matthew, but I knew it wasn’t him because methodical as he is, he always stacks from the back and the dishwasher was practically empty. Anyway, if he had popped home in the middle of the day, he would have admitted it. The truth is, I’m the one who stacks from the front. And if I can take an overdose without knowing what I’m doing, it’s not too hard to suppose I can put my mug in the dishwasher without remembering about it.
We somehow got through the weekend with Matthew
tiptoeing around me as if I was an unexploded time bomb waiting to go off at any moment. He didn’t actually sigh with relief this morning when he could escape back to the office but I know he found babysitting me hard work, even though without the pills I’m much more coherent. But my accidental overdose has left him on edge and the thought that I might do something stupid while he’s at home means he can’t relax around me.
As soon as he’s left for work I get up, because I want to be out of the house before my silent caller phones. I could just ignore the call but I know that if I do he’ll only phone back until I pick up, which will end up destabilising me. And today I need to be calm, because I’m going back to Heston to see Jane’s husband.
My plan is to arrive in the early afternoon when I
think it’s most likely the twins will be asleep so I stop off in Browbury on the way, where I have a leisurely The Breakdown
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breakfast and spend the rest of the morning shopping for
new clothes, because nothing seems to fit me anymore.
Alex doesn’t seem overly surprised to see me standing on his doorstep again.
‘I thought you might be back,’ he says, ushering me in. ‘I could tell there was something else on your mind.’
‘You can tell me to go away again if you like,’ I say.
‘Only I hope you don’t because if you can’t help me, I don’t know who can.’
He offers me a cup of tea, but suddenly nervous about what I’m going to say, I refuse.
‘So what can I do for you?’ he asks, taking me into the sitting room.
‘You’re going to think I’m mad,’ I warn, sitting down on the sofa. He doesn’t say anything so I take a deep breath. ‘Right, here goes. The day I phoned the police to tell them that I’d had seen Jane alive, they made a public announcement asking the person who had called them earlier to contact them again. The next day I received a silent phone call. I didn’t think too much about it but when I got another the following day and a couple the day after, it began to freak me out. They weren’t heavy-breather type of calls, I could have coped with that, there was just this silence on the line except I knew that there was someone there. When I told my husband he said it was probably a call centre trying to get through but I began to live in dread of the phone ringing because – well, I suspected they were coming from the person who killed Jane.’
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He makes a noise, a grunt of surprise, but when he