_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

on Saturday night. I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I walked away towards the train station as quickly as I could. About
halfway along the street, I turned to look back. He was still standing
there in the doorway, watching me.
EVENING
I’ve been checking my email obsessively, but I’ve heard nothing from
Tom. How much better life must have been for jealous drunks before
emails and texts and mobile phones, before all this electronica and the
traces it leaves.
There was almost nothing in the papers about Megan today. They’re
moving on already, the front pages devoted to the political crisis in
Turkey, the four-year-old girl mauled by dogs in Wigan, the England
football team’s humiliating loss to Montenegro. Megan is being
forgotten, and she’s only been gone a week.
Cathy invited me out to lunch. She was at a loose end because
Damien has gone to visit his mother in Birmingham. She wasn’t invited.
They’ve been seeing each other for almost two years now, and she still
hasn’t met his mother. We went to Giraffe on the High Street, a place I
loathe. Seated in the centre of a room heaving with shrieking underfives,
Cathy quizzed me about what I’d been up to. She was curious
about where I was last night.
“Have you met someone?” she asked me, her eyes alight with hope. It
was quite touching, really.
I almost said yes, because it was the truth, but lying was easier. I told
her I’d been to an AA meeting in Witney.
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed, dipping her eyes to her limp Greek
salad. “I thought you’d maybe had a little slip. On Friday.”
“Yes. It won’t be plain sailing, Cathy,” I said, and I felt awful, because
I think she really cares whether I get sober or not. “But I’m doing my
best.”
“If you need me to, you know, go with you . . .”
“Not at this stage,” I said. “But thank you.”
“Well, maybe we could do something else together, like go to the
gym?” she asked.
I laughed, but when I realized she was being serious I said I’d think
about it.
She’s just left—Damien rang to say he was back from his mother’s, so
she’s gone round to his place. I thought about saying something to her—