The Breakdown. B A Paris

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СКАЧАТЬ me…’ Rachel continues, before hesitating a moment. ‘Actually, I feel really bad because when I went into the office from the airport yesterday, I had an argument with someone over a parking space and I think it was her. I was quite verbal – it was the jet-lag talking – and now I wish I’d let it go.’

      ‘You weren’t to know,’ I say automatically.

      ‘Susie said the people who worked with her are devastated. Some of them know her husband and, apparently, he’s absolutely distraught – well, he would be, of course. And now he’s been left to bring up two-year-old twins by himself.’

      ‘Twins?’ The word echoes through my head.

      ‘Yes, twin girls. It’s such a tragedy.’

      I go ice cold. ‘What was her name?’

      ‘Jane Walters, Susie said.’

      The name hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. ‘What? Did you say Jane Walters?’

      ‘Yes.’

      My mind spins. ‘No, it can’t be. It’s not possible.’

      ‘That’s what Susie said,’ Rachel insists.

      ‘But… but I had lunch with her.’ I’m so stunned I can hardly speak. ‘I had lunch with her and she was fine. It must be a mistake.’

      ‘You had lunch with her?’ Rachel sounds puzzled. ‘When? I mean, how did you know her?’

      ‘I met her at that leaving party you took me to, for that man who worked in your company – Colin. You know, the one you said it was all right for me to tag along to because there’d be so many people nobody would notice that I didn’t work for Finchlakers. I got talking to her at the bar and we swapped phone numbers, and then a few days later, she called me. I told you when you phoned from New York: I said I was going to lunch with her the next day – at least I thought I did.’

      ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Rachel says gently, understanding how distressed I am. ‘And even if you did, even if you’d told me her name, I wouldn’t have known who she was. I’m so sorry, Cass, you must feel dreadful.’

      ‘I was meant to be going round to hers next week,’ I say, realising. ‘To meet her little daughters.’ Tears spring to my eyes.

      ‘It’s horrible, isn’t it? And awful to think of her killer being out there somewhere. I don’t want to worry you, Cass, but your house must only be a couple of miles from where she was killed and, well, it is a bit isolated, stuck down the end of the road by itself.’

      ‘Oh,’ I manage, feeling sick. Because in all the turmoil and worry, I hadn’t thought about the killer still being out there. And that we can only get a mobile signal if we’re upstairs, by a window.

      ‘You don’t have an alarm, do you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then promise you’ll lock the door when you’re home by yourself ?’

      ‘Yes – yes, of course I will,’ I tell her, desperate to get away, to stop talking about the woman who was murdered.

      ‘Sorry, Rachel, I have to go,’ I add hurriedly. ‘Matthew’s calling me.’

      I slam the phone down and burst into tears. I don’t want to believe what Rachel just told me, I don’t want to believe that the young woman who was murdered in her car was Jane, my new friend, who would, I felt, have become a great friend. We had met by chance, at the party I had gone to by chance, as if we’d been destined to meet. Still sobbing, as clear as if it’s happening before my eyes, I see her edging towards the bar at Bedales.

      *

       ‘Excuse me, are you waiting to be served?’ she asked, smiling at me.

       ‘No, don’t worry, I’m waiting for my husband to pick me up.’ I moved aside a little to make room for her. ‘You can squeeze in here, if you like.’

      ‘Thanks. It’s a good job I’m not desperate for a drink,’ she joked, referring to the number of people waiting to be served. ‘I didn’t realise Colin had invited so many people.’ She looked quizzically at me and I noticed how blue her eyes were. ‘I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to Finchlakers?’

       ‘I don’t actually work for Finchlakers,’ I admitted guiltily. ‘I came with a friend. I know it’s a private function but she said there’d be so many people, nobody would notice if there was an extra person. My husband’s watching the match with friends tonight and she felt sorry for me being on my own.’

       ‘She sounds like a good friend.’

       ‘Yes, Rachel’s great.’

       ‘Rachel Baretto?’

       ‘Do you know her?’

       ‘No, not really.’ She smiled brightly at me. ‘My husband’s watching the match tonight too. And babysitting our two-year-old twins.’

       ‘How lovely to have twins! What are their names?’

       ‘Charlotte and Louise, better known as Lottie and Loulou.’ She took her mobile from her pocket and thumbed through photos. ‘Alex – my husband – keeps telling me not to do this, at least not to total strangers, but I can’t help it.’ She held the phone for me to see. ‘Here they are.’

       ‘They’re beautiful,’ I told her truthfully. ‘They look like two little angels in those white dresses. Which is which?’

       ‘This one is Lottie and that’s Loulou.’

       ‘Are they identical? They seem it to me.’

       ‘Not exactly but it’s quite difficult for most people to tell them apart.’

       ‘I bet.’ I saw the barman waiting to take her order. ‘Oh, I think it’s your turn.’

       ‘Oh, good. A glass of South African red, please.’ She turned to me. ‘Can I get you something?’

       ‘Matthew will be here soon but…’ I hesitated a moment ‘… I’m not driving, so why not? Thank you. I’ll have a glass of dry white.’

       ‘My name’s Jane, by the way.’

       ‘I’m Cass. But please don’t feel you have to stay here now that you’ve been served. Your friends are probably waiting for you.’

       ‘I don’t think they’ll miss me for a few more minutes.’ She raised her glass. ‘Here’s to chance meetings. It’s such a treat to be able to drink tonight. I haven’t been out much since the twins were born and when I do, I don’t drink because I have to drive home. But a friend is dropping me home tonight.’

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