Killing Me Softly by Nicci French

and hugged her. ‘Are you ready for this? Isn’t it a bit too soon?’
    ‘It’s always too soon, I think,’ Pauline said. ‘Anyway, nothing’s happened yet.’
    ‘So you haven’t started standing on your head after sex, or whatever it is you’re meant to do.’
    So we chattered about fertility and pregnancy and maternity leave and the more we talked the worse I felt. Up to this moment, I had thought of Adam as a dark, strictly private betrayal. I knew I was doing something awful to Jake but now, looking at Pauline, her cheeks flushed red in the cold but also with the excitement, maybe, of impending pregnancy, and her hands clutched round the coffee, and the mist from between her narrow lips, I had a sudden mad sense that all of it was operating under a misapprehension. The world wasn’t as she thought it was and it was my fault.
    We both looked at our empty coffee cups, laughed and stood up. I gave her a close hug and pushed my face against hers.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said.
    ‘What for?’
    ‘Most people don’t tell you about trying for a baby until they’re into their second trimester.’
    ‘Oh, Alice,’ she said reprovingly. ‘I couldn’t not tell you that.’
    ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said suddenly. ‘I’ve got a meeting.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Oh,’ I said taken aback. ‘In, er, Soho.’
    ‘I’ll walk along with you. It’s on my way.’
    ‘That would be lovely,’ I said, in anguish.
    On the way Pauline talked about Guy, who had broken off with her suddenly and brutally not much more than eighteen months earlier.
    ‘Do you remember the way I was then?’ she asked, with a little grimace and looking, for the moment, just like her brother. I nodded, thinking frantically about how I was to handle this. Should I pretend to go into an office? That wouldn’t work. Should I say I had forgotten the address? ‘Of course you do. You saved my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for all you did for me then.’ She held up her bag of coffee. ‘I probably drank about that much coffee in your old flat while crying into your whisky. God, I thought I would never be able to cross the road again on my own, let alone function and be happy.’
    I squeezed her hand. They say that the best friends are those who can simply listen and if that’s true then I was the best of all friends during that terrible walk. This was it, I said to myself, the terrible punishment for all my deceptions. As we turned into Old Compton Street, I saw a familiar figure walking in front of us. Adam. My brain dulled and I thought I might even be going to faint. I turned, saw an open shop door. I couldn’t speak but I seized Pauline’s hand and pulled her inside.
    ‘What?’ she asked in alarm.
    ‘I need some…’ I looked into the glass case on the counter. ‘Some…’
    The word wouldn’t come.
    ‘Parmesan,’ said Pauline.
    ‘Parmesan,’ I agreed. ‘And other things.’
    Pauline looked around. ‘But there’s such a long queue. It’s Friday.’
    ‘I’ve go to.’
    Pauline looked indecisive, shifting from one foot to another. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’d better get back.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, in relief.
    ‘What?’
    ‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘Just go. I’ll phone you.’
    We kissed and she left. I counted to ten, then looked out into the street. She had gone. I looked down at my hands. They were steady, but my mind reeled.
    That night, I dreamed that someone was cutting off my legs with a kitchen knife, and I was letting them. I knew I mustn’t scream, or complain, because I had deserved it. I woke in the early hours, sweating and confused, and for a moment I couldn’t tell who it was I was lying next to. I put out my hand and felt warm flesh. Jake’s eyes flickered open. ‘Hello, Alice,’ he said, and returned to sleep, so peaceful.
    I couldn’t go on like this. I had always thought of myself as an honest person.

Six
    I was late for work because I had to