_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

remember anything, but I do. I saw you. After you hit me, you left me
there, in the underpass . . .”
He starts to laugh, but I can see it now and I wonder how I never read
him this easily before. There’s panic in his eyes. He shoots a glance at
Anna, but she doesn’t meet his eye.
“What are you talking about?”
“In the underpass. On the day Megan Hipwell went missing . . .”
“Oh, bullshit,” he says, waving a hand at me. “I did not hit you. You
fell.” He reaches for Anna’s hand and pulls her closer to him. “Darling,
is this why you’re so upset? Don’t listen to her, she’s talking absolute
rubbish. I didn’t hit her. I’ve never laid a hand on her in my life. Not like
that.” He puts his arm around Anna’s shoulders and pulls her closer still.
“Come on. I’ve told you how she is. She doesn’t know what happens
when she drinks, she makes up the most—”
“You got into the car with her. I watched you go.” He’s still smiling,
but there’s no longer any conviction there, and I don’t know whether I’m
imagining it, but he looks a little paler to me now. He relaxes his grip on
Anna, releasing her once again. She sits down at the table, her back to
her husband, her daughter squirming on her lap.
Tom passes his hand over his mouth and leans back against the
kitchen counter, folding his arms across his chest. “You saw me get into
the car with who?”
“With Megan.”
“Oh, right!” He starts laughing again, a loud, forced roar. “Last time
we talked about this, you told me you saw me get into the car with Anna.
Now it’s Megan, is it? Who’s it going to be next week? Princess Diana?”
Anna looks up at me. I can see the doubt, the hope, flash across her
face. “You’re not sure?” she asks.
Tom drops to his knees at her side. “Of course she isn’t sure. She’s
making this up—she does it all the time. Sweetheart, please. Why don’t
you go upstairs for a bit, OK? I’ll talk this through with Rachel. And this
time”—he glances up at me—“I promise I’ll make sure she won’t bother
us anymore.”
Anna’s wavering, I can see it—the way she’s looking at him,
searching his face for the truth, his eyes intently on hers. “Anna!” I call
out, trying to bring her back to me. “You know. You know he’s lying.
You know that he was sleeping with her.”
For a second, no one says a thing. Anna looks from Tom to me and
back again. She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come.