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

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  I allow myself the luxury of drinking one can of beer while I watch Pink Floyd take the stage, my mind drifting back to thoughts of my father. The music stirs distant memories that swirl around in my mind, evoking thoughts and feelings from long ago and another age.

  In spite of the desire to drink heavily, I limit myself to one beer and no more. When Guy comes home,…if he comes home…I need to be sober in case I need to offer some advice on how to cope with a broken heart. My recent speciality.

  By eleven o’clock I am getting restless. Not able to concentrate on the highlights of the day from Hyde Park or any of the other venues around the world, I briefly think about going for a walk down to the shops to pick up the Sunday papers, but then start to worry that Guy may turn up when I am not here.

  ..

  At eleven thirty my mobile rings. I dive for it, picking it up and answering without looking at the display first. “Guy,” I say, so sure that it must be him.

  “No, Andrew, sorry it’s just me, Gail. So, I gather he hasn’t come home yet?”

  “Nope. Nothing. I keep expecting him to burst through the door at any second, but nothing. Nada. Nietch.”

  “Well, if he hasn’t called or come home yet, I doubt he will now. Andrew, I was thinking, have you thought about maybe just taking Sal aside and telling her what you saw and telling her to come clean with Guy, or threatening her that you will if she doesn’t.”

  “Yes I have, but I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could face her now. I’d rather force myself to tell Guy.”

  “Okay, but you’ve got to talk to one of them,” she says, then is silent for a moment. “…By the way, I called Ben. I’m taking your advice and going out with him next Thursday night. And actually, it may just work out. He sounded really nice on the phone when we talked just now.”

  “Good. I told you he might not be so bad.”

  “You might be right. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to judge people.”

  A moments silence.

  “Will you call me tomorrow when you’ve talked to Guy?”, she asks.

  “Yes. I promise. I’m dreading it though.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

  “Okay mum, I will.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  ..

  ..

  By eleven o’clock the next morning I am a nervous wreck. Resigned to do my duty, I am just eager to get it over and done with, but still Guy is nowhere to be seen. Twelve o’clock comes, and I am in the lounge staring at some boring Sunday morning political programme on ITV but not able to concentrate. Every couple of minutes I pick up my mobile phone and check its display to make sure that I haven’t missed a call, or that I didn’t miss hearing an SMS message arrive. By now I have sent Guy two texts asking where he is and how last night went, as well as leaving a voice message asking when he will be back at the flat. All remain unanswered.

  At one o’clock I find myself in my bedroom pulling on some running gear, and by one-fifteen I am a mile away from my flat, running alongside the railway arches and heading towards the River Thames.

  The air is warm and it’s a wonderful, summers day. The sort of day that by this time would normally find me on top of a Monroe in the Scottish Highlands, walking along a ridge somewhere at the top of the world with a fantastic view over the quiet and beautiful glens and lochs. I suddenly feel incredibly homesick, and for the first time since I got to London, I wish I was back in Scotland.

  Scotland is a land full of interesting, voluminous skies and distant horizons, where everywhere you go there is room to breathe and live freely. In contrast, London is dirty, flat and restricted, the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street being just about as far as you can ever see.

  My response to this encroaching sense of claustrophobia is simply to run faster and faster, before eventually making it to the river and running along the banks of the Thames on the pedestrian walk-way until I end up collapsing exhausted beneath the London Eye at Waterloo.

  Bending over and supporting myself on my knees whilst I try to catch my breath, I gawk upwards up at the towering wheel above me and wonder what sort of view you get from the top? How far can you see? Is it higher or better than the view you get from the top of Arthur’s Seat, the big hill that dominates the centre of Edinburgh?

  After I recover the ability to breathe normally again, I find a spot amongst the tourists eating picnics and reading the Sunday papers, and I stretch out on the grass. An airplane passes very high overhead, a thin white vapour trail appearing in its wake the moment it passes. With the sun beating down on my face, I shade my eyes and watch as the smoke plume expands, broadening out until it becomes too thin to see, and is slowly eaten up again by the intensely deep, blue sky.

  I close my eyes and the temptation to sleep is very strong: I feel so warm, relaxed and secure. It’s been over a year since I last lay on the ground and basked in the summer sun, probably the last time I did it being somewhere near Ullapool on the west coast of Scotland, at the end of a hard day’s cycling with Kate...The memory, …the first pleasant memory I have had of Kate in the past few weeks...brings a smile to my face, but the warmth of the feeling is quickly replaced with a sense of loss, and regret.

  Regret not only for myself, but also for the pain I am just about to unleash on my best friend. Rather like what the Campbells once did to the McDonalds of Glencoe, I will soon abuse the hospitality of my host by bringing his happy world to a painful end.

  Ten minutes later I am sitting on a train leaving Waterloo, the next stop Clapham Junction, and only minutes away from ruining Guy’s life.

  ..

  ---------------------------

  ..

  I jog slowly back from the train station to the flat, in through the main door and up the stairwell, stopping hesitantly in front of our door with my key in my hand and listening to see if Guy has already arrived home or not. The flat is quiet, and almost relieved I put the key in the lock, open the door slowly and step inside.

  “Guy?” I call aloud. There is no reply.

  Walking into the lounge, I check the phone for voice messages, and then look at the display on my mobile phone in my bedroom. No one wants to talk to me.

  It’s three o’clock. Guy’s flight is sometime this evening, so he must be coming back soon. In fact, it looks like he’s already running late. Although I have been dreading telling him about Sal all day, I now start worrying that I will not have enough time to talk to him before he has to leave for the airport.

  When I call him, his mobile rings three times before he answers it, Guy’s voice booming across a clear connection, sounding alive and exuberant, “Andrew? Where are you now? Are you at home?”.

  “Yes, I just wanted to find out when you’re coming back to the flat? I want to talk to you about something important before you leave for the States…”

  “Me too. I want to talk to you too, but I’m going to be in a real hurry. I’m on my way back now, and I should be there in about fifteen minutes. I’m just about to get on the tube. Can you ...”

  The phone connection suddenly dies, and after trying to call him back several times, I give up.

  Realising just how sweaty and smelly I am from my run in the summer sun, I disappear into the bathroom, where, face turned up to the cool, refreshing shower, I practice my words: “Guy,..hi…well, you know I thought that Sal was absolutely lovely? Well, I was wrong. You see, it turns out she’s a two-timing bitch, just like the rest of them!”

  Or perhaps not.

  How about, “Hey Guy. I may be wrong, but on Friday night, I think I saw Sal practically having sex with another man in a nightclub…”

  No. Too harsh, even though it’s the truth. What on earth am I going to tell him?

  I towel myself down, and move back to the bedroom where I dress whilst listening to some calming classical music. Unfortunately Mozart may do wonders for making babies intelligent, but it doesn’t seem able to stop my hands from shaki
ng nervously in anticipation of what I will have to do in the next ten to thirty minutes.

  It’s twenty minutes since I spoke to Guy. He should be back any moment…

  “Andrew?”, the front door opens and Guy piles into the flat, his buoyant mood already self evident in the way he inflects my name when calling after me.

  Taking a deep breath I step towards the door, firmly grasping the handle in anticipation of opening it and stepping out confidently and with purpose. For a second I wonder for one last time if I am about to commit social suicide with my best friend, but I quash the thought immediately and step out boldly into the hall way.

  “Guy…there’s something…”, I start, but am stopped dead in mid-sentence by the sight of Guy kissing Sal passionately in the hallway.

  “Hey….” Guy exclaims loudly, breaking off momentarily from Sal, before kissing her quickly one more time. “Listen, have you got a moment?” he says, as Sal smiles at me, turns and walks towards Guy’s bedroom, Guy playfully reaching out to her bottom and spanking it lightly as she goes.

  “Yes…sure…” I stutter, flummoxed as to what I’m meant to do now. What was it again, about the best made plans of mice and men? The last thing I had considered was that Sal would come back to the flat with Guy.

  “Here, let’s go into your room for a second. I want to tell you something,” he says, hanging his jacket behind the front door, then guiding me into my room.

  “Guy, there’s something I want to tell you too…I…,” I try to start, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to get it out in the open and say it before Sal comes back.

  “In a minute. I’m really short of time. I have to be at the airport in an hour or I’ll miss my flight. Sal’s taking me in her car, and I’m just going to shower and change, pick up my luggage and leave.”

  “Oh, shit,…I was thinking that maybe if time was short, maybe I could go with you to the airport. We need to talk about something.”

  “The rent? Listen, don’t worry about it. You can pay me next week when I get back.”

  “No…, actually…”

  “Andrew, sorry to interrupt you, but I’ve honestly only got a few minutes, and there’s something really important that I’ve got to tell you. You know how I told you that I was taking Sal for a big night out on the town last night? I mean, The Ivy, champagne,…the works!”

  “Yes,” I reply quietly, struggling to gain any control over the conversation.

  “Well, it was a brilliant night out. Brilliant! And the thing is,…last night Sal and I got engaged!”

  ..

  His words strike me like a lightning bolt out of the blue. My jaw drops open, and I blink three, maybe four times.

  “You what?” I exclaim. “Engaged?”, now completely lost as to what the hell I should do next.

  “Yes! I mean, well almost... I mean, I asked her, and she said ‘maybe’. But I know that the answer will be yes. She wants a week to think about it, and she’s going to tell me when I get back from the States next Sunday. Andrew, it’s going to be great. We’re going to get married!...And it’s all thanks to you! I took your advice...”

  “Hang on,” I reply, grasping desperately at the obvious. “Maybe she will say ‘no’? And why does she need a week to think about it? Surely, if she…”

  “Don’t be so negative. Of course she’ll say ‘yes’. We’ve been going out for three years, we’re great with each other and we’re in love. So, why would she want to say no?”

  I stare at Guy, the reply half forming in my mouth, but deciding instead to go again with, “So why did she ask for a week to think about it?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember but I think it may even have been my idea. We were in The Ivy, and I had just ordered some champagne, and I got down on one knee. Even before I said a word, she started to cry, and before she said anything, everyone started to stare at us, and Sal got really embarrassed. She was so happy, she just couldn’t stop crying. I just leaned across and kissed her to calm her down, and I said that before she gave me her answer that I wanted her to think about it whilst I was away. And when I got back, if she said ‘yes’-which I hoped she would because she was the most important and only woman in the world for me-that we would tell everyone, and start to plan the marriage, when and where, and how many people to invite etc. And then when I kissed her, the next think you know the waiter starts pouring the champagne and then another bottle of champagne arrives at our table a few minutes later as a present from Ewan McGregor, the actor, who was dining there too and who had seen me down on one knee, and…”

  “So, she’ll tell you her answer on Sunday?” I ask.

  “Yes. Sunday night. Come on amigo, are you going to congratulate me or what?”, Guy asks, stretching his hand out for me to shake it. His enthusiasm and happiness is overwhelming and I can sense a little frustration from him that I am not sharing the news with him as positively as he obviously thought I would.

  “Absolutely!” I reply, giving in, shaking his hand and then wrapping him into a big bear hug.

  As he squeezes me into his massive chest and lifts me playfully off the floor, I close my eyes and realise now is obviously not the time or place to tell Guy. I have no option but to change my plan.

  My new plan is simple: I now have no choice but to talk to Sal before next Sunday afternoon and persuade her that either she must tell Guy the truth herself, or that she must turn his proposal of marriage down and walk away from him once and for all.

  ..

  Chapter Eighteen

  ..

  ..

  “He did what?” Gail exclaims in disbelief, as I bring her up to date as soon as Guy and Sal have left for the airport and I tell her about my new plan.

  “I’m not kidding. He popped the question in the middle of The Ivy down on one knee. The only good thing is that he told me that he never really gave her the opportunity to reply. He gave her until next Sunday when he gets back from America for her to make up her mind and give him an answer.”

  “So, how’s that good? If he had just waited for a reply, she may have turned him down there and then and that would have been that.”

  “Yeah…, apart from the fact that Guy would have been heart-broken and his life would be over. I know him. He is the kindest, gentlest, most sensitive man you’ll ever meet and he isn’t going to take this easily.”

  “Still, the truth has to come out. Nothing has changed, except for the fact that he won’t find out for another week.”

  “And what if she calls my bluff and doesn’t tell him, and tells me she’ll just deny it to his face?”

  “That’s the nightmare scenario. Don’t worry about it. She won’t do it.”

  “But if she does?”

  “We’ll think about it then.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I say, although it’s not really okay at all.

  We are both silent for a while, but I can sense that Gail wants to say something and is holding back.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gail, I can practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. Is there something you want to say?”

  “Andrew, listen, I’ve been doing some more thinking...”

  “Go on….”

  “I know you saw Sal and some other bloke getting off with each other, but maybe it’s not as bad as it seemed,...maybe…”

  “What are you talking about? They were having sex together in public, right there on the dance floor!”

  “Don’t get angry with me, all I’m saying is that sometimes, it’s possible that people, women and men, well, they might do something that’s fun and wrong, but it doesn’t mean as much as you might think.”

  “You’re scaring me, Gail. You’re beginning to sound like Dianne.”

  “Don’t compare me with her, okay? I’m nothing like her. Andrew, I’m your friend, and I’m playing devil’s advocate for you just now. I personally would never do this, but I would be lying if I said that I don’t know a f
ew girlfriends that have snogged other men on a drunken night out, even though they were in love with their boyfriends. Come on, men do that sort of thing all the time! Anyway, all I’m saying is that just because Sal was getting off with someone else, it doesn’t definitely mean that it was anything serious. And it also doesn’t mean they are sleeping together. It could be that nothing else happened.”

  “Gail, first of all, they left the nightclub together. Where do you think they went? And secondly, this is the woman my best mate has just proposed to. If snogging some other guy and letting him feel her up in public is something that doesn’t mean anything to her, then I think she’s not the woman for Guy, okay?

  “Fine, I know, but I just want you to be sure…”

  “Are you changing your mind about either telling him or confronting Sal with it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well I do. Where I come from, people don’t do this, okay?”

  “But this is London, Andrew. Maybe things are a little different down here…”

  “Who’s side are you on, Gail? Are you telling me that you would be happy if any new boyfriend of yours was out there having sex with another woman in a nightclub? Would you?”

  “No. Of course not. You know I wouldn’t. ”

  “Exactly.”

  We are both silent again.

  “So when are you going to call her?” Gail eventually asks.

  “I don’t know. Do you think I should do it tonight?”

  “Possibly. If you’re going to do it then I think you should try to get hold of her as soon as possible. The sooner she knows you’re on to her the better.”

  “You’re right. I’ll call her this evening.”

  “Let me know tomorrow at work how it goes. I’m going out with Luke tonight to try and cheer him up.”