would just drive on. They’d at least do something.’
Her words slam through me and tears prick my eyes.
The guilt I feel is almost unbearable. I don’t want Rachel to be able to see how much her words have affected me so I lower my head and fix my eyes on the vase of orange flowers sitting between us on the table. To my horror,
the petals begin to blur and I reach down hastily and
grope in my bag for a tissue.
‘Cass? Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t seem it.’
I hear the concern in her voice and blow my nose,
giving myself time. The need to tell someone is overwhelming. ‘I don’t know why, but I didn’t…’ I stop.
‘Didn’t what?’ Rachel looks puzzled.
I open my mouth to tell her but then I realise that
if I do, not only will she be appalled that I drove on
without checking that the woman was all right, she’ll
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also catch me out in a lie, because I’ve already said that I didn’t go home that way last night.
I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say miserably.
‘It obviously does. Tell me, Cass.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
I scrunch the tissue with my fingers. ‘Because I’m
ashamed.’
‘Ashamed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ashamed of what?’ When I don’t say anything she
gives a sigh of exasperation. ‘Come on, Cass, just tell
me! It can’t be that bad!’ Her impatience makes me
even more nervous so I look for something to tell her,
something she’ll believe.
‘I forgot about Susie,’ I blurt out, hating myself for
using what is just a mundane issue compared to the
woman’s death. ‘I forgot that I was meant to have bought
her something.’
A frown appears on her face. ‘What do you mean,
forgot?’
‘I can’t remember, that’s all. I can’t remember what
we decided to buy her.’
She looks at me in astonishment. ‘But it was your
idea! You said that as Stephen is taking her to Venice
for her birthday, we should buy her some lightweight
luggage. We were in the bar near my office at the time,’
she adds helpfully.
The Breakdown
33
I let relief show on my face, although the words mean
nothing to me. ‘Of course! I remember now – God, I’m
so stupid! I thought it must be perfume or something.’
‘Not when there’s so much money. We all put in
twenty pounds, remember, so you should have a hundred
and sixty altogether. Have you got it with you?’
A hundred and sixty pounds? How could I forget being given that much money? I want to admit everything but instead I carry on the pretence, no longer sure of myself. ‘I thought I’d pay by card.’
She smiles reassuringly at me. ‘Well, now that that
little drama’s over, drink your coffee before it gets cold.’
‘It probably already is - shall I get us a fresh cup?’
‘I’ll go. You sit here and relax.’
I watch her as she joins the queue at the counter,
trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Although I managed not to tell her about seeing the
woman in the car, I wish I hadn’t had to admit that
I’d forgotten about the luggage. Rachel isn’t stupid.
She’d witnessed Mum’s deterioration on a weekly basis
and I don’t want her to worry, or to start thinking that
I’m heading down the same road. The worst thing is,
I have no memory of suggesting that we buy luggage,
or of where I put the hundred and sixty pounds, unless
it’s in the little drawer in my old writing desk. I’m not worried about the money itself; if I can’t find it, it doesn’t really matter. But it’s frightening to think I’ve forgotten everything to do with Susie’s present.
Rachel comes back with the coffees.
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b a paris
‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ she says, sitting
down.
‘Go on.’
‘It’s just that it’s not like you to get so upset over
something as mundane as forgetting what present you’re
meant to have bought. Is there something else troubling
you? Is everything all right with Matthew?’
For the hundredth time, I find myself wishing that
Rachel and Matthew liked each other more. They try not
to show it but there’s always an undercurrent of mistrust between them. To be fair to Matthew, he doesn’t like Rachel simply because he knows she disapproves of him.
With Rachel, it’s more complicated. She has no reason to
dislike Matthew so sometimes a little voice in my head
wonders if she’s jealous that I now have someone in my
life. But then I hate myself for the thought, because I
know she’s happy for me.
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ I reassure her, trying to push
last night from my mind. ‘It really was just the present.’
Even those words seem like a betrayal of the woman
in the car.
‘Well, you were a little worse for wear that night,’ she
says, smiling at the memory. ‘You didn’t have to worry
about driving home as Matthew was picking you up so
you had quite a few glasses of wine. Maybe that’s why
you forgot.’