Читать книгу The Breakdown - B A Paris - Страница 11

SATURDAY, JULY 25TH

My body clock still hasn’t adjusted to being on holiday so, despite it being the weekend, I’m in the garden early, pulling up weeds and tidying beds, only stopping when Matthew arrives back from the shops with fresh bread and cheese for lunch. We picnic on the lawn and, once we’ve finished, I mow the grass, sweep the terrace, wipe down the table and chairs and dead-head the plants in the hanging baskets. I’m not usually so obsessive about the garden but I feel a pressing need to have everything looking perfect.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Matthew comes to find me.

‘Would you mind if I go to the gym for an hour or so? If I go now, instead of in the morning, I’ll be able to have a lie-in.’

I smile. ‘And breakfast in bed.’

‘Exactly,’ he says, kissing me. ‘I’ll be back by seven.’

After he’s gone, I begin to make a curry, leaving the door to the garden open for air. I slice onions and dice chicken, singing along to the radio as I cook. In the fridge, I discover the bottle of wine we started a couple of evenings ago and pounce on it. I pour what’s left into a glass and carry on with the curry, sipping the wine as I go along. By the time I’ve finished in the kitchen, it’s almost six o’clock, so I decide to have a long, bubble-filled bath. I feel so relaxed that it’s hard to remember the relentless anxiety that had burdened me last week. This is the first day that I’ve managed to push all thought of Jane to the back of my mind. It’s not that I don’t want to think about her, it’s just that I can’t stand the constant guilt. No matter how much I want to I can’t turn the clock back, I can’t not live my life because I didn’t realise it was Jane in the car that night.

A news bulletin comes on but I turn the radio off quickly. Without the noise from the radio, the house is eerily quiet – and maybe because I’ve just been thinking about Jane, I’m suddenly conscious of being home alone. Going into the sitting room, I close the windows which have been left open all day, then the one in the study, and lock the front and back doors. I stand for a moment, listening to the house. But the only sound I hear is the soft ca coo of a wood pigeon outside.

Upstairs, I run the bath but before getting in I find myself hesitating over whether or not to bolt the bathroom door. I hate that the visit from the alarm man has played with my head so in defiance to myself I leave it ajar, as I normally do, but undress facing the gap. I climb in and sink down under the water. The bubbles rise up around my neck and I lie back against their foamy cushion, my eyes closed, enjoying the stillness of the afternoon. We’re rarely disturbed by neighbour noise – last summer the teenagers who live in the house nearest to us came to apologise in advance for a party they were throwing that night and we didn’t hear a thing. It’s why Matthew and I chose this house over the much larger, more impressive – and consequently more expensive – property that we also looked at, although I think price was also a consideration for Matthew. We’d agreed to buy it jointly and he was adamant that I wouldn’t put in more than him, even though I could well afford to, despite having bought a house on the Ile de Ré six months previously. A house nobody knows about, not even Matthew. And certainly not Rachel. Not yet.

Under the bubbles, I let my arms bob to the surface and think about Rachel’s birthday – the day I’ll finally be able to give her the keys to the house of her dreams. It’s been a hard secret to keep. It’s perfect that she wants to go to the Ile de Ré for her birthday. She took me there a couple of months after Mum died and we stumbled upon the little fisherman’s cottage on our second-to-last day there, an À Vendre sign hanging from an upstairs window.

‘It’s beautiful!’ Rachel had breathed. ‘I need to see inside.’ And without waiting to consult the estate agent, she marched up the little path and knocked on the door.

As the owner showed us round, I could tell that Rachel had fallen in love with it even though she couldn’t afford it. To her it was just a pipe dream, but I knew I could make it happen so I arranged it all in secret. I close my eyes, imagining her face when she realises that the cottage is hers. I knew it was exactly what Mum and Dad would have wanted me to do. If Dad had lived to make a will, he would definitely have bequeathed something to Rachel. And if Mum had been of sound-enough mind, she would have done the same.

A sound, like a crack, interrupts my thoughts. My eyes snap open and my whole body tenses. Instinctively, I know that something is wrong. I lie as still as I can, straining my ears, listening through the open door for the sound that told me I wasn’t alone in the house. Hannah’s words about Jane’s murderer being holed up nearby come back to me. I hold my breath, and my lungs, deprived of air, tighten painfully. I wait; but there’s nothing.

Keeping my movements steady so as not to disturb the water any more than necessary, I raise my arm carefully; it breaks through the suds and I stretch my hand towards my mobile, perched precariously on the edge of the bath near the taps. But it remains out of reach and, as I slide further down the bath towards it, the water lapping against the side of the bath sounds as loud as waves crashing onto the shore. Terrified that I’ve drawn attention to myself and horribly conscious that I’m naked, I leap suddenly from the bath, taking half the water with me, and lunge for the door, slamming it shut. The sound reverberates around the house and, as I shoot the bolt, my fingers shaking, I hear another creak, I can’t work out where from, and my fear increases.

With my eyes fixed on the door, I take a couple of steps backwards and grope along the edge of the bath for my mobile. It slips from my grasp and clatters to the floor. I freeze, my arm outstretched. But still there is nothing. Bending my knees slowly, I retrieve my mobile. The time appears on the screen, six-fifty, and the breath that I forgot I was holding comes whooshing out in relief, because Matthew will soon be home.

I dial his number, praying that I’ll be able to get a signal, because with the bathroom at the back of the house, it’s never a sure thing. When his mobile starts ringing, I’m dizzy with gratitude.

‘On my way,’ he says cheerfully, thinking I want to know how long he’s going to be. ‘Do you want me to stop off for anything?’

‘I think there’s someone in the house,’ I whisper shakily.

‘What?’ His voice is sharp with worry. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the bathroom. I’ve locked the door.’

‘Good. Stay there. I’ll phone the police.’

‘Wait!’ I find myself hesitating. ‘I’m not sure. I mean, what if there’s no one there? I only heard something twice.’

‘What did you hear? Someone breaking in, voices?’

‘No, nothing like that… a crack and then some sort of creaking noise.’

‘Look, stay where you are. I’ll be with you in two minutes.’

‘All right,’ I say, ‘but hurry!’

Feeling less anxious now that Matthew is coming, I sit down on the edge of the bath. The feel of it against my bare skin reminds me that I’m still naked, so I drag my dressing gown from the back of the door and shrug it on. I can’t help wondering if I should have let Matthew phone the police after all. If there is someone in the house, he could be in danger when he arrives.

My mobile rings. ‘I’m here,’ Matthew says. ‘You OK?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘I’ve parked in the road,’ he goes on. ‘I’m going to take a look around.’

‘Be careful,’ I say. ‘Stay on the phone.’

‘All right.’

I listen nervously as I hear his footsteps crunch on the gravel and then round the side of the house.

‘Can you see anything?’ I ask.

‘Everything seems fine. I’ll just check the garden.’ A minute or so passes. ‘All good, I’m coming in.’

‘Be careful!’ I warn again, before the signal goes.

‘Don’t worry, I grabbed a spade from the shed.’

The call cuts off and from the bathroom, I hear him checking out the rooms downstairs. When I hear him on the stairs, I start unlocking the door.

‘Let me check the bedrooms first!’ he calls. It isn’t long before he’s back. ‘You can come out now.’

I open the door and when I see him standing there with the spade in his hand, I feel suddenly foolish.

‘Sorry,’ I say awkwardly. ‘I really did think someone was there.’

He puts the spade down and wraps his arms around me. ‘Hey, better to be safe than sorry.’

‘I don’t suppose you want to make me one of your gin and tonics, do you? I could do with a stiff drink. I’ll just throw some clothes on.’

‘It’ll be waiting for you in the garden,’ he promises, taking his arms from around me and heading for the stairs.

I pull on jeans and a T-shirt and follow him down. He’s standing in the kitchen slicing some limes.

‘That was quick,’ he says. But I’m too busy staring at the window.

‘Did you open the window?’ I ask.

‘What?’ He turns to look. ‘No, it was like that when I came in.’

‘But I shut it,’ I say, frowning. ‘Before I went up for my bath I shut all the windows.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ I search my memory. I can remember closing the windows in the sitting room and the one in the study but I can’t remember closing this one. ‘At least, I thought I had.’

‘Maybe you didn’t close it properly and it came open,’ he says. ‘Maybe that was the noise you heard.’

‘You’re probably right,’ I say, relieved. ‘Come on, let’s have that drink.’

*

Later, after dinner, we carry the rest of the bottle of wine through to the sitting room to finish in front of a film. It’s hard to find one we haven’t already seen.

‘What about Juno?’ he asks as we flick through the list. ‘Do you know what it’s about?’

‘A teenager who finds herself pregnant and looks for the perfect couple to adopt her baby. I don’t really think it’s for you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He takes the remote from me and puts it to one side. ‘We haven’t talked about having a baby for a while now,’ he says, gathering me in his arms. ‘You do still want to, don’t you?’

I lay my head on his shoulder, loving how safe he makes me feel. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then perhaps we should start putting the wheels in motion. It can be quite a long process, apparently.’

‘We said when we’d been married a year,’ I say and, despite my joy, I realise that I’m stalling, because how can I think about having a child when, before it’s even a teenager, I could be diagnosed with dementia, like Mum? I know I’m probably worrying about nothing but to ignore the problems I’ve been having with my memory would be stupid.

‘It’s lucky it’s our anniversary soon, then,’ he says softly. ‘Why don’t we watch an action film instead?’

‘All right. Let’s have a look at what there is.’

We watch a film until it’s time for the news. As always, Jane’s murder features prominently and I only carry on watching because I’m desperate to know if they’re any nearer to catching her killer. But they’ve made little progress. Then a police officer comes on:

‘If you, or anyone you know, were in the vicinity of Blackwater Lane last Friday night, or in the early hours of Saturday morning, and saw Jane Walter’s car, a dark red Renault Clio, parked or otherwise, please call the following number.’

He seems to be looking directly at me as he speaks, and when he adds that people can call the number anonymously, I realise it’s the answer to my dilemma.

The news finishes and Matthew, ready for bed, tries to pull me to my feet.

‘You go ahead, there’s something I want to watch on another channel,’ I say, reaching for the remote.

‘OK,’ he says cheerfully, ‘I’ll see you later.’

I wait until he’s upstairs, then rewind the news until I find the number and jot it down on a piece of paper. I don’t want the police to be able to trace the call back to me so I’ll have to use a payphone, which means I won’t be able to phone until Monday, when Matthew’s back at work. And once I have, hopefully some of my guilt will disappear.