I blinked. I wasn’t expecting that. Then another message came through:
I’m worried about you, Ruby. Where will you stay tonight? I’m happy to sleep in the spare room if you want to come home. x
I knew how much that would have cost him to write. He’d never been one to apologize first or to admit he was wrong at all. I didn’t know whether to reply; I hadn’t factored this into my rehearsals.
Don’t worry about me, I replied. I’ll be fine. I’ll be in touch.
I hesitated, not knowing whether to put a kiss at the end. I don’t think I’d ever sent him a message without a kiss, whether I’d meant it or not. It wouldn’t have been worth my while. And then I thought no, of course I shouldn’t put a kiss on the message; I was leaving him.
I looked at my watch. It was time to go. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I thought of what lay ahead. I started the car and at the next turning headed south.
* * *
• • •
As I approached the hotel, I checked my rearview mirror. Nothing was behind me. I turned quickly and drove through to the car park at the back. I glanced round, just to make sure, but I didn’t recognize any cars. I parked in the corner, almost out of sight. The first spots of rain were beginning to fall as I took my overnight bag from the trunk of the car and I hurried through the car park to the front of the hotel. The receptionist looked up as I entered the lobby.
“Good evening,” she said.
“Hi. I’ve a room booked for a few nights.”
“What name is it?”
I hesitated. “Sheridan.”
She scrolled down her computer screen and at first I thought she couldn’t find it, but then she said, “Oh yes, here we are.” She took a plastic key card from a drawer and programmed it. “Room 201. We have room service until midnight and breakfast is between six and ten every morning.” She smiled brightly at me. “Would you like a hand with your bag?”
“No, no, thanks.” I took the card from her. “I can manage.”
I stood by the lift, shaking. This was the most daring thing I’d done in my entire life and now that the moment had come it was as though I was watching myself from outside my own body. The lift pinged and opened. I walked in, gripping my bag. My finger slid over the button for the second floor. The lift suddenly seemed claustrophobic and by the time its doors opened I felt light-headed. I dragged my bag down the corridor toward the room, my heart beating fast. Outside the door I stood for a second, hardly able to breathe. This was it. Once I went in, there was no going back.
CHAPTER 4
Ruby
It was only when I was safely in the hotel room that I could let myself relax. I kicked off my shoes and quickly unpacked my bag. I hung up my clothes and when I lined up my toiletries at the side of the bathroom sink, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My makeup was a mess from crying and my face was flushed with relief and excitement. I started to smile and found I couldn’t stop.
Quickly I cleaned my face. My eyes were still swollen and my cheeks were pink, so I reapplied my makeup, then added a dab of perfume to my throat and wrists. The sweet familiar smell always calmed me. I looked at my phone. No messages, but I wasn’t really expecting one. My stomach rumbled and I realized I was starving. I couldn’t face going downstairs to the restaurant, so I rang room service and ordered wine and sandwiches.
It was strange to be alone in a hotel room, propped up on pillows, with only the television for company. The usual Friday-night programs were on, ones that I’d watch with Tom. He and I would have a drink and sometimes we’d chat, but often we’d watch in silence. It took a lot to make us laugh; if he was the wrong side of the bottle, I’d always let him go first. That night I couldn’t concentrate long enough to focus on anything. I kept thinking of the conversation I’d had with him that evening. I’d expected insults to be hurled at me, recriminations to be shouted, his face close to mine, his spittle showering my mouth. I thought I’d be made to feel bad, no matter what that took. The longer I held out, the harder he’d try. I used to cave in, but over the last year or two I’d started to retreat into myself, distancing myself from what he was saying, as though he was talking to someone else. He’d noticed, of course he had, and he’d ramped up his efforts. It wasn’t a game; it was more like war.
I’d anticipated having trouble getting out of the house, not because he was violent—he’d never touched me when we were arguing and would stay at least an inch away—but because he hated not to have the last word. It was wearing, to say the least. Sometimes he’d bring up an argument he’d lost years before and try to win it afresh. I’d thought that might happen tonight, too, and frowned. I’d been let off lightly. Why was that? I felt a pang of guilt as I thought of the messages he’d sent since I left the house. He wasn’t always horrible, I knew. He could be kind and generous, too. Those messages reminded me of the man he’d been when we first got together.
Just then I heard a noise in the corridor and leaned forward, straining my ears. I could hear the fire door that split the corridor slowly shut, and then a thud. I jumped to my feet and threw open the door.
A porter was pushing a drinks cart along to the next room. “Sorry!” he said. “That door’s a nuisance. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“No,” I said, disappointed. “No, it’s okay. I thought you were bringing me something to eat.”
I went back to the television and started to flick through channels again. Soaps. Game shows. The news. Nothing that could interest me now. I hadn’t thought of bringing a book to read and wished I’d brought my iPad with me. Out of habit I got up and started to pace the floor but that made me even more anxious and I quickly got back onto the bed. I pulled out my phone and looked at some news sites and at a forum I liked, but I couldn’t think straight. That conversation with Tom had exhausted me. Confused me, too.
There was a clink of dishes and a rap at the door. Room service had arrived.
As soon as the porter had gone, I poured a large glass of wine. Rain was coming down now, lashing against the window. It was comforting, somehow, like a rainy Saturday when you wake up and realize you don’t have to go to work. I stood at the window for a long time, watching the lights of the cars, blurred through the rain-splattered window, as they drove along the road. None came into the hotel car park.
Where was he?
* * *
• • •
It took a while for me to realize that Harry wouldn’t arrive that night. At ten I had a bath. I propped my phone on the basin beside the bath with a towel under it so that I could grab it to read any message as soon as it came through. The phone remained silent. No calls from Tom, luckily. None from my parents or from my friend Sarah, from work. She and I often chatted in the evening if we’d been too busy to talk at work. I was glad she hadn’t called me; I had no idea what I’d say to her. And I couldn’t risk Harry calling and having to leave a voice mail message. He might need to speak to me urgently and I wouldn’t know until I’d finished my call. I drummed my fingers on the side of the bath. All I wanted was to talk to him.