_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

RACHEL
• • •
SATURDAY, AUGUST 3, 2013
MORNING
I dreamed last night that I was in the woods, walking by myself. It was
dusk, or dawn, I’m not quite sure, but there was someone else there with
me. I couldn’t see them, I just knew they were there, gaining on me. I
didn’t want to be seen, I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t, my limbs
were too heavy, and when I tried to cry out I made no sound at all.
When I wake, white light slips through the slats on the blind. The rain
is finally gone, its work done. The room is warm; it smells terrible, rank
and sour—I’ve barely left it since Thursday. Outside, I can hear the
vacuum purr and whine. Cathy is cleaning. She’ll be going out later;
when she does I can venture out. I’m not sure what I will do, I can’t
seem to right myself. One more day of drinking, perhaps, and then I’ll
get myself straight tomorrow.
My phone buzzes briefly, telling me its battery is dying. I pick it up to
plug it into the charger and I notice that I have two missed calls from last
night. I dial into voice mail. I have one message.
“Rachel, hi. It’s Mum. Listen, I’m coming down to London tomorrow.
Saturday. I’ve got a spot of shopping to do. Could we meet up for a
coffee or something? Darling, it’s not a good time for you to come and
stay now. There’s . . . well, I’ve got a new friend, and you know how it is
in the early stages.” She titters. “Anyway, I’m very happy to give you a
loan to tide you over for a couple of weeks. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.
OK, darling. Bye.”
I’m going to have to be straight with her, tell her exactly how bad
things are. That is not a conversation I want to have stone-cold sober. I
haul myself out of bed: I can go down to the shops now and just have a
couple of glasses before I go out. Take the edge off. I look at my phone
again, check the missed calls. Only one is from my mother—the other is