The Girl I Used to Be(33)

As soon as she said that, I remembered. We went up to the ninth floor in the lift and as we came out I had a sudden jolt of memory.

I tripped here, didn’t I? I remembered reaching out and grabbing the rail. I flushed, embarrassed at the thought of making a fool of myself. Then, as though he were here with us now, I heard David’s voice as he laughed and said, “Steady on, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Sweetheart?

We walked down the corridor toward my room. Memories were coming back, though they were of my arrival there earlier in the evening rather than later that night. I felt distinctly uneasy as we approached the room.

The manager touched the door plate with her card, then as a green light flashed, she turned to me. “Okay?”

I nodded reluctantly.

She opened the door. I stood in the doorway and looked at the room. The curtains were half drawn and it was dark and cool. She flicked on the light switch and I stepped inside. It did look familiar. I saw the brown suede surround of the bed and winced.

“Are you all right?”

I nodded again. “It’s the same bed that was in the photo.” The bed was a divan; there was no room for anything to roll underneath it. I walked over to the bed, then turned, looking at the rest of the room. The mini bar sat underneath the desk. “I was charged for three bottles of water but I’m sure I only had two.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You should have told us and we would have adjusted your bill.”

“It’s not that. I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Can a mistake be made with that sort of thing?”

“It shouldn’t happen,” she said. “It’s an automated system, but we ask the staff cleaning the room to check, too.”

“I must have made a mistake,” I said, but I knew I hadn’t. I turned toward the door. “Thanks for showing me the room. I really appreciate it.” I stopped in the doorway and looked around the room again.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

There was something at the corner of my mind, nudging me about the room, that didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t work out what it was. It was clean, tidy, and neutral, just like any other hotel room. I shrugged and said, “Yes, it’s fine, thanks,” and she switched off the lights and we left the room.





TWENTY-THREE


IT SEEMED A long train journey home. Luckily the seat next to me was empty, so I was able to sit quietly and look out the window and think about what had happened since I was last in London. It had been good to talk to the manager, but it made me realize how alone I was now. Joe would find out straightaway if the police got involved. I really wanted to talk to Caitlin, but she was away visiting Ben, and besides, she might feel she had to tell Joe. And I couldn’t tell my mum. I shuddered. I couldn’t think how she’d react if I told her.

I drove back home from the station feeling so weary. I was desperate to know what David was up to, but frightened, too. Part of me thought of telling Joe, of calling him while he was safely in Ireland and just telling him everything. It wasn’t the kind of thing I should tell him over the phone, but how could I do it face-to-face? My throat burned as I thought of the video where I’d said I wouldn’t have married him. I couldn’t let him hear that. I was so ashamed of myself. Everyone loses their patience with their partner from time to time, but I wouldn’t normally talk like that about him.

By the time I reached my house I was so exhausted I didn’t know what to do with myself. I opened the front door and stopped dead.

The house smelled different; there was an artificial lemony smell that would have had Joe reaching for his inhaler if he’d been here. And then I saw my spare key and a bill on the dresser in the hall and remembered the cleaners had been.

I walked from room to room, opening windows to get rid of the smell but admiring how lovely it looked. The house was polished and cleaned to a much higher standard than Joe or I did it. The kitchen was spotless, the dishwasher emptied. In the bedrooms the drawers were tidied and clean laundry had been put away.

I wanted to marry those women. I glanced at the receipt and blanched. I’d asked them to do whatever it took and they had, but it had cost me. When I looked around at the scrubbed kitchen, the spotless living room, and the vases on the windowsills full of flowers from the garden, though, I knew they were worth every penny.

My phone pinged with a message from Joe. He’d sent a photo that his brother had taken of Joe on a sun lounger with a glass of beer and a huge plate of sandwiches, with his mother in the background playing tennis with Rory. How’re things? We’re missing you. Can’t wait to see you again.

I couldn’t wait, either.



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*

AFTER LOCKING UP the house and making a quick snack, I went straight up to bed. It was so lovely to see the house clean and tidy, like being given a huge present. I got under the freshly laundered quilt determined to have an early night and called Joe and Rory from my bed. Rory was in bed, too, as he told me all the things he’d been up to. It seemed strange to be going to bed at the same time as my three-year-old son, but it felt wonderful, too, to think of a long night’s sleep. I switched the lamps on, though the room wasn’t yet dark, then settled into bed with my Kindle. I sent Lucy a text to say that I should be okay to work in the morning, set my alarm for seven A.M., and soon I was asleep.