The Girl on the Train: A Novel

SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2013

EARLY MORNING

I hurl the phone over the fence, as far as I can; it lands somewhere on the edge of the scree at the top of the embankment. I think I can hear it rolling down towards the track. I think I can still hear her voice. Hi. It’s me. Leave a message. I think I might be hearing her voice for a long time to come.

He’s at the bottom of the stairs by the time I get back to the house. He’s watching me, blinking, bleary-eyed, struggling out of sleep.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say, but I can hear the tremor in my voice.

“What were you doing outside?”

“I thought I heard someone,” I tell him. “Something woke me. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“The phone rang,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

I clasp my hands together to stop them shaking. “What? What phone?”

“The phone.” He’s looking at me as though I’m insane. “The phone rang. Someone called and hung up.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t know who that was.”

He laughs. “Of course you don’t. Are you all right?” He comes across to me and puts his arms around my waist. “You’re being weird.” He holds me for a bit, his head bowed against my chest. “You should’ve woken me if you heard something,” he says. “You shouldn’t be going out there on your own. That’s my job.”

“I’m fine,” I say, but I have to clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. He kisses my lips, pushes his tongue into my mouth.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says.

“I think I’m going to have a coffee,” I say, trying to pull away from him.

He’s not letting me go. His arms are tight around me, his hand gripping the back of my neck.

“Come on,” he says. “Come with me. I’m not taking no for an answer.”