_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

MEGAN
• • •
SATURDAY, JULY 13, 2013
EVENING
It’s not until we get into the car that I notice he has blood on his hand.
“You’ve cut yourself,” I say.
He doesn’t reply; his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
“Tom, I needed to talk to you,” I say. I’m trying to be conciliatory,
trying to be grown-up about this, but I suppose it’s a little late for that.
“I’m sorry about hassling you, but for God’s sake! You just cut me off.
You—”
“It’s OK,” he says, his voice soft. “I’m not . . . I’m pissed off about
something else. It’s not you.” He turns his head and tries to smile at me,
but fails. “Problems with the ex,” he says. “You know how it is.”
“What happened to your hand?” I ask him.
“Problems with the ex,” he says again, and there’s a nasty edge to his
voice. We drive the rest of the way to Corly Wood in silence.
We drive into the car park, right up to the very end. It’s a place we’ve
been before. There’s never anyone much around in the evenings—
sometimes a few teenagers with cans of beer, but that’s about it. Tonight
we’re alone.
Tom turns off the engine and turns to me. “Right. What is it you
wanted to talk about?” The anger is still there, but it’s simmering now,
no longer boiling over. Still, after what’s just happened I don’t feel like
being in an enclosed space with an angry man, so I suggest we walk a
bit. He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, but he agrees.
It’s still warm; there are clouds of midges under the trees and the
sunshine is streaming through the leaves, bathing the path in an oddly
subterranean light. Above our heads, magpies chatter angrily.
We walk a little way in silence, me in front, Tom a few paces behind.
I’m trying to think of what to say, how to put this. I don’t want to make