B Paris - The Breakdown - The gripping thriller from the bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors

‘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.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Heston, on the other side of Browbury. Do you know it?’

‘I’ve been to the pub there a couple of times. There’s that lovely little park just across the road from it.’

‘With a wonderful play area for children,’ she agreed, smiling, ‘where I seem to spend quite a lot of my time now. Do you live in Castle Wells?’

‘No, I live in a little hamlet this side of Browbury. Nook’s Corner.’

‘I drive through it sometimes on my way back from Castle Wells, if I take that short cut that goes through the woods. You’re lucky to live there, it’s beautiful.’

‘It is, but our house is a bit more isolated than I’d like. It’s great to be only a few minutes from the motorway though. I teach at the high school in Castle Wells.’

She smiled. ‘You must know John Logan then.’

‘John?’ I laughed in surprise. ‘Yes, I do. Is he a friend of yours?’

‘I used to play tennis with him until a few months ago. Is he still telling jokes?’

‘Never stops.’ My phone, which I’d been holding in my hand, buzzed suddenly, telling me I had a text message. ‘Matthew,’ I told Jane, reading it. ‘The car park’s full so he’s double-parked in the road.’

‘You’d better go then,’ she said.

I quickly finished my wine, then said, truthfully, ‘Well, it was lovely talking to you, and thank you for the wine.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She paused, then went on, her words coming out in a rush. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to have a coffee, or lunch even, some time, would you?’

‘I’d love to!’ I said, genuinely touched. ‘Shall we swap numbers?’

So we took each other’s mobile number and I gave her my home one, too, explaining about the terrible network reception, and she promised to give me a call.

And less than a week later, she did, suggesting lunch the following Saturday, as her husband would be home to look after the twins. I remember being surprised, but pleased, that she’d phoned so soon, and had wondered if she perhaps needed someone to talk to.

We met in a restaurant in Browbury and, as we chatted easily together, it felt as if she was already an old friend. She told me how she had met Alex and I told her about Matthew, and how we were hoping to start a family soon. When I saw him standing outside the restaurant, because he’d arranged to meet me there, I couldn’t believe it was already three o’clock.