_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

either—it gives Scott a motive, too. If he thought his wife was pregnant
with another man’s child . . . only he can’t have done. His shock, his
distress—it has to be real. No one is that good an actor.
Scott doesn’t appear to be listening any longer. His eyes, fixed on the
back of the bedroom door, are glazed over, and he seems to be sinking
into the bed as though into quicksand.
“You should stay here a while,” I say to him. “Try to sleep.”
He looks at me then, and he almost smiles. “You don’t mind?” he
asks. “It would be . . . I would be grateful. I find it hard to sleep at home.
It’s not just the people outside, the sense of people trying to get to me.
It’s not just that. It’s her. She’s everywhere, I can’t stop seeing her. I go
down the stairs and I don’t look, I force myself not to look, but when I’m
past the window, I have to go back and check that she’s not out there, on
the terrace.” I can feel the tears pricking my eyes as he tells me. “She
liked to sit out there, you see—on this little terrace we’ve got. She liked
to sit out there and watch the trains.”
“I know,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “I used to see her there
sometimes.”
“I keep hearing her voice,” he says. “I keep hearing her calling me. I
lie in bed and I can hear her calling me from outside. I keep thinking
she’s out there.” He’s trembling.
“Lie down,” I say, taking the mug from his hand. “Rest.”
When I’m sure that he’s fallen asleep, I lie down at his back, my face
inches from his shoulder blade. I close my eyes and listen to my heart
beating, the throb of blood in my neck. I inhale the sad, stale scent of
him.
When I wake, hours later, he’s gone.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 2013
MORNING
I feel treacherous. He left me just hours ago, and here I am, on my way
to see Kamal, to meet once again the man he believes killed his wife. His
child. I feel sick. I wonder whether I should have told him my plan,
explained that I’m doing all this for him. Only I’m not sure that I am
doing it just for him, and I don’t really have a plan.