The Sleeping Truth : A Romantic Thriller (Omnibus Edition containing both Book One and Book Two)

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  “Your last girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what’s your current girlfriend like. Or are you still single?”

  “I’m still single. Why?... Are you interested?”

  She doesn’t say anything in reply, but I notice the slightest shrug of her shoulders, as if it was almost an involuntary response to my question. As if she was saying, “Don’t know, maybe…” The wonders of body language.

  “Sorry…,” I apologise. “It’s been so long since I was single, I can’t remember how to talk to attractive women like you without talking rubbish.”

  “No, don’t worry about it,” she says. “Since we’re making sweeping generalisations, it’s probably fair to say that I’m used to it, because all men talk shit.”

  “Touché. You fancy a drink then? It’s my round.”

  “Actually, it’s mine. What do you want? Another pint of lager ?”

  “Please.”

  I watch her walk over to the bar, and find myself wishing again that she wasn’t going out with Luke. She returns with our drinks and sits down beside me and we talk for a while. She seems to be responding to my drunken attempts to flirt with her, laughing when I laugh, smiling when I do, and mirroring lots of my body language. So much so that I could swear she’s actually flirting with me too. So what’s with Luke?

  “Listen, Gail. I’m maybe getting a little plastered here, and I’m enjoying talking to you, but if I sit here any longer, I’m probably going to end up saying something else I may regret in the morning.”

  “Like what?” she asks.

  “Like, how even though you have a boyfriend and I know it’s wrong, I keep letting myself flirt with you. And, if I’m not mistaken, I think that you may be flirting with me back…But since I know about you and Luke, it’s probably better if we just go upstairs and join the others.”

  She reaches out and touches me on the arm, stopping me in mid attempt to get up from the ridiculously comfortable sofa.

  “No, stay. You’re not offending me. The truth is, I like you, and you’re right, I am probably flirting with you too,” she says. “…But I think you may have got it all wrong about me and Luke …”

  Unfortunately, it’s just at that point that somewhere in my mind the level of alcohol reaches the critical tipping point where the little ‘don’t make a fool of yourself’ safety switch is shorted out, and the ability to listen to what an attractive women is saying is replaced with an uncontrollable urge to lean forward and kiss her.

  Her lips are soft and warm. As they part slightly, our tongues meet briefly in the middle and I feel her respond by leaning in towards me, meeting the kiss half way. The kiss lasts for a few very long seconds, then, from out of nowhere a hand comes up between us, pushing my chest gently away from her.

  “No…sorry…I can’t do this,” she says.

  “Yes, you can. I mean, that felt as if you can do it very well.”

  “No, I mean, I can’t get involved with you, even though I really like you.”

  “Because of your boyfriend Luke?”

  “No, not because of him. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You got the wrong end of the stick somewhere. Luke’s my flatmate, but he’s gay,” she says, watching as my jaw drops open. “Paul’s his boyfriend. Well, was… until the other night, when Luke caught him in bed with some other bloke. That’s why he was so upset, and I couldn’t come out with you.”

  “Luke’s gay? You’re kidding.” I laugh, momentarily feeling really stupid. “So does that mean, you’re single then? Or do you have another boyfriend?”

  “No. I’m single. Have been for ages. London is a really rubbish place to be if you’re trying to find someone decent and honest to go out with.”

  “That’s what my flatmate Guy says. But he ended up with his girlfriend Sal, so it can’t be completely true, because she’s probably the most fantastic and honest woman I know…not that I fancy my best mate’s girlfriend or anything, but you know what I mean.”

  “He sounds very lucky.”

  “He is. Anyway, if you’re single, just like me, and you can kiss as well as you obviously can, why don’t we try again...” I say, as I start to move in for another kiss.”

  “No,” another hand on my chest. “ I can’t. Even though I really like you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I protest, sitting back, frustrated as hell. “Tell me why not?”

  “Honestly?” she asks, almost asking for permission to tell me.

  “Yes, honestly.” I reply.

  “Because you slept with Dianne. And everyone knows about it….And I don’t want to get involved in an affair with someone from the office that everyone will talk about behind my back.”

  “Dianne?” I can’t believe what she is saying. “How the hell do you know that I slept with Dianne?”

  “I just do... Everyone knows about it, but you’re in good company. All of the good looking guys in the office have slept with her. She’s very nice. Very sexy. You didn’t know it, but as soon as you walked into the office a couple of weeks ago, the ‘new good-looker in town’, there was practically an office sweep-stake for people to guess how long it would be before she got you. It was pretty impressive though. A week is quite fast, even by Dianne’s standards.”

  “What? What does this make me then. The Office Slut?” I ask, sitting up straight, and feeling the adrenaline starting to course through my drunken bones.

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that. And I didn’t mean it to sound so nasty about Dianne. I mean, there’s no denying that she is very attractive, and she does have quite high standards….but I can’t go out with you if you have already slept with her…. Especially since everyone else will talk about it. If you hadn’t done it, then definitely, definitely, I’d love to...”

  “So why are you talking to me now then? I mean, what with me being damaged goods and all that,” I ask, not believing what I am hearing.

  “Because I like you. And I think we could be really good friends. We do get on great together, don’t we?”

  “Yes. But…shit, I can’t believe this. You’re honestly telling me that you won’t get involved with me, because I slept with Dianne? That’s totally unfair. How was I to know that she had such a big reputation in the office? Come on, give me a break!” I protest.

  Gail smiles.

  “It’s not fair on me either. I really fancy you. I have done for ages. I just wish I’d got to you first!”

  “Gail, this just doesn’t make any sense. If you fancy me, and I fancy you, then let’s do something about it.”

  “Sorry…can’t. Honestly, I can’t. Not now. Unfortunately, it’s just too late…”

  I sit there, stunned. Uncomprehending. Frustrated, and fucking mad. Why on earth did Dianne have to ruin everything by blabbing on about us to everyone else?

  “Perhaps we should go upstairs to the others now…?” Gail says, standing up. I look up at her, and feeling a mixture of anger, stupidity, and a touch of shame, I meekly get up and start to follow her blindly up the stairs to rejoin the others. As we reach the bottom of the stairs, she stops, turning towards me.

  For a moment we stand looking at each other. Although it is quite dark, I can see that her face is full of emotions, and it is almost as if her eyes are trying to tell me something. I am just about to speak, when she raises her forefinger and places it on my lips. Her finger lingers there, her beautiful eyes studying mine, a wonderful moment of poignant intimacy that seems to last a long, long time.

  But then all too suddenly it comes to an end. She leans forward and kisses me slowly on the side of my cheek, her lips just missing mine. Pulling back, she smiles, then turns and walks back up the stairs.

  As we approach the bar, Ben sees us returning together, and I can see him looking first at me, then at Gail, then back at me.

  “So, ….” Ben asks me, without actually asking.

  “So, what?” I answer him, pretending not to understand.

  “I was just
wondering…if you and Gail…were, sort of…”

  “I think the answer to your question is probably no. Although it depends what your question is. But I wouldn’t worry about it, whatever it is that you are thinking…Listen, just out of interest, do you know a girl in IT called Dianne?”

  “You mean “Dianne-‘I’ll have that Man!’-Dianne” ?”

  “Yes, that’s probably her.”

  “Then not really,” he says, pausing. “But from what I hear,…you know her quite well. All of her. Quite well?” he says, nudging me.

  “You too? Shit, who else knows?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Bloody hell…”

  I leave Ben to laugh by himself at my expense and suddenly feeling very self-conscious and perhaps rather infamous amongst the rest of the Euro.com crowd, I decide to go for another wander, just to get away from my own notoriety. Skirting around the edge of the dance floor, I find myself again at the staircases on the other side of the room. Deciding to see what is upstairs this time, I take the stairs two at a time, following them up to another dance floor even larger than the one downstairs.

  Although still very full, the place is not yet quite as packed as below. The lighting is a lot dimmer, and the music being played is slower and more romantic. At the far end of the room a long bar stretches from one side of the dance floor to the other, with people queuing two deep to get served. Around the edges of the dance floor, there are green sofas, contrasting with the red colour scheme of the basement. With my half–finished pint in my hand I find a seat in one of the corners and plonk myself down. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, but soon I can see quite well, and I start to look around the dance floor.

  A very attractive woman at the far end of the dance floor quickly catches my eye: an incredible figure with high heeled shoes, dancing alone in a black figure-hugging dress, gyrating slowly and sexily to the music.

  As I watch her, she runs her hands upwards through her long dark hair, her arms and elbows held high above her shoulders and painting slow curves in the air around her head, her beautiful bottom gyrating slowly and sexily in tune with the music. For a while I am mesmerised, following her figure moving slowly back and forward, erotically imaging just what it would be like...

  After studying her for a few minutes, my gaze wanders to the couple dancing behind her, something very familiar about the other woman drawing my attention away from the Brazilian beauty I was admiring before. I watch the couple as they dance closely together, the man and the woman’s hips pushing against each other and moving together in long, slow curves. Slowly the couple spins away from me, and I see the man’s arm move up the woman’s back, drawing the woman’s head towards him, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that seems to go on and on and on.

  At first I watch them, almost with indifference, as I see them lose themselves in a long, slow, passionate, snog. But as the snog progresses, -and that’s the best word to describe it-, I begin to start wondering what it would be like if I was the one that was kissing her.

  Yet, there is something about the woman that is fascinating me. Something very familiar, but out of place.

  Realising that I can’t see as clearly as I would like from here, I get up from my chair and move to the end of the bar, from where I can lean on the counter and get a better, closer view of the goings-on.

  By now, I am screwing my eyes up, straining to be able to get a better look at the woman’s face. There is something uncannily familiar about her, but for the moment I cannot see her face as it is turned away from me and buried deep in the mouth of the man she is currently trying to suck the living daylights out of.

  As the track of music comes to an end, the couple slowly come up for air. The man’s face is momentarily illuminated by one of the flashing lights, and I see that he is pretty unremarkable. He could be just any old bloke out for a drink on a Friday night. Nothing special. I watch as he puts his arm around the woman, and they turn and walk towards the other end of the bar furthest away from me.

  As they do, I see for the first time, just why I found the woman so familiar. Her shining hair, her almost perfect nose, her smile, and the way the lights shine and reflect from her beautiful eyes: a face that I know only too well. It’s unmistakably her.

  ..

  The woman is laughing now, her arms wrapped around the man beside her. She looks up at him, whispers something intimately into his ear and then turns and starts to walk away from him in my direction. As she starts to move away, I see the man wrap an arm around the front of her body and draw her back to him, and in spite of it being dark I see him slip his hand up her top and inside her blouse, cupping one of her breasts and massaging it playfully. The woman stops still, her own right hand moving up to the outside of her blouse, pressing down on the man’s hand and welcoming the attention. She cocks her head back, her eyelids close and a smile spreads across her face in a display of obvious erotic pleasure, and then I watch as she spins around within his arms and start to kiss him again, the embrace this time even more passionate than before.

  ..

  I watch all this in total disbelief, not understanding or comprehending, but recognising without any doubt, that the woman is Sal. Guy’s beloved, trusted and loyal girlfriend.

  ..

  ---------------------------

  ..

  A feeling of nausea and anger surges up inside and threatens to overwhelm me, and suddenly confronted with the primitive choices of “Fight or Flight” I turn and dive through the door to the Gents, only several metres away. Pushing past someone coming towards me in the opposite direction, I pile into one of the cubicles, kicking the door closed behind me and slamming home the bolt.

  ..

  I turn and lean back against the door, steadying myself against the spinning world around me, and struggling to regain control of my pounding heart. Breathe deep, hold, let it out, breathe in again, deep, hold, let it out.

  Again. Repeat. Again. Repeat.

  ..

  The minutes go by, and although my pulse continues to race, my mind slowly begins to clear. My eyes are still closed, my jaws tightly clenched, my hands pressed firmly against the door behind me.

  ..

  As the mental mist eventually clears, I start to think again. “What a fucking bitch!” I hear myself shouting aloud. A picture of Sal’s face pops into my mind, her face contorted with the erotic pleasure of the man’s hand exploring her breasts, and once again the anger surges within me.

  ..

  This time, there is less of the ‘flight’, and more of the urge to ‘fight’, and I turn to open the door, intent on rushing back out onto the dance floor and confronting her, demanding to know just what the fuck is going on. For a moment I struggle with the lock and it takes a minute before I am able to free the round metal bolt from the cylinder, push it back and emerge from the cubicle.

  ..

  Someone at the urinals turns around from his business and glances over at me, but as we exchange momentary glances, he sees the fury in my eyes and quickly looks away. Storming out the door back onto the dance-floor, I emerge from the bright fluorescent lighting of the toilet only to find myself blinded by the darkness outside, and it takes several minutes before I can see anything clearly, my eyes struggling to adjust to the poor lighting and smoke filled air around me.

  Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I start scanning the crowd for Sal and the man with her. Not finding them where I last saw them, I start pushing my way through those gyrating on the dance floor, hunting for them amongst all the heaving bodies, now jumping up and down to the Scissor Sisters. I circle through the dancers several times, rudely pushing past people without any attempt at apology or politeness, occasionally lifting my hands to shield my eyes from the flashing disco lights and trying to see people more clearly. Not finding them dancing anywhere, I check the bar and then the clusters of green comfortable chairs, but without success. After circling the dance floor several times more, I
am sure they are no longer here, so I hurry downstairs, checking both the floor beneath and the chill zone and all the red sofas in the basement below.

  ..

  It’s half an hour later before I finally accept the fact that they are no longer here. Sal and the man have both left.

  ..

  Chapter Fifteen

  ..

  ..

  “Gail,” I say, interrupting her conversation with one of the other Euro.com employees who I have not yet met, and whispering in her ear. “I’m leaving. Goodbye.”

  There are now tears in my eyes, and my hands are shaking. I start to walk away from the group, and am just collecting my coat at the door, when Gail appears by my side.

  “Andrew, you’re crying? What’s the matter? What happened? Why are you rushing away?”

  I try to swallow, not wanting my voice to betray what I am feeling. “Something came up. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “Can I come with you? Do you want someone to talk to? Listen, I meant what I said earlier. I want to be your friend, and if you’re upset I want to help. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  I can see that she genuinely seems concerned for me, and that she can sense that something bad has happened. “Okay,” I say, “Get your coat, and I’ll wait for you outside. I just want to get out of here. I need some fresh air.”

  Moments later we are walking together down the main road heading towards the Angel tube station. We walk in silence, Gail sensing that when I want to speak I will. My head is awash with confused emotions, and my heart is racing again. What the fuck is the matter with women? Why is it that they cannot be trusted? And Guy…? What do I tell him?

  “Here, let’s go in here,” Gail says, touching me gently on my arm and pointing towards a late night café that is still open.

  Luckily, the café is not too full: Gail points me to a table at the back, and I obediently go and sit down.