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

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  “Would you like another cup of tea? Or coffee?” The nurse asks me, catching me unawares. “I’m just about to go off-duty, but I can get you one before I go.”

  Putting Sal’s hand gently back on the bed, I stand up and stretch. “Please, I think I was just about to nod off.”

  “Actually, I think you did. I walked past a moment ago, and you were snoring.”

  “What? Me? You’re kidding.” I can feel myself turning bright red.

  “Yes. I think you just nodded off for a moment. Don’t worry about it, we’re used to it. And you’re not exactly disturbing anyone. Both of the other patients on this ward are in a similar condition to Sally,” she says, waving at the other two occupied beds, both cordoned off with curtains.

  “Do they have visitors too?”

  “Not just now. Unfortunately both the other patients have been here for several months. It’s difficult for relatives to get down here to visit them as much as they would like, so after a few weeks, the visits tail off as relatives re-organize their life so that they can settle down into a regular visiting pattern. Relatives come as often as they can, but we try to encourage them not to give up their own lives and to try and lead as regular a life as possible, given the circumstances. Unfortunately, the truth is that we don’t know how long a patient may be here for. You can’t put your life on hold, or give up your own relationships until they get better. Some never do, and life has to go on. We just have to do our best.”

  A thought occurs to me.

  “Nurse, can I ask, has anyone else been to visit Sally?”

  “Not yet. You’re the only friend to have come so far.”

  “Do you know if any other men- or women- have called to enquire about her?”

  “No. At least not while I was on duty today. Of course, I don’t know if she received any calls whilst she was in Intensive Care. Were you expecting anyone else?”

  “No,” I lie.

  The nurse’s answer is interesting. So, what happened to the other man I found her with? Why hasn’t he been to visit? Maybe he doesn’t know about what happened to her yet. What happens when he finds out? Then the nightmare scenario dawns on me: what happens if he finds out about her one day, and comes to visit her at the same time as Guy is here? Then another question: does Mandy know about her affair? It strikes me that she must. She’s her flatmate, and they would talk about everything together. Blast, what do I do now? Do I talk to Mandy? Ask her if she knew what was going on? Or do I just leave it and stick to my original plan and wait for Sal to wake up, and then confront her?

  “Here,” the nurse says, returning with a fresh cup. “I’m going off duty now. Will I see you tomorrow?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. Her fiancé will be here tomorrow. He will probably want to be alone with her.”

  “Well, don’t worry about Sally, Andrew. She’s getting the best treatment she can. Why don’t you let us worry about her for now. Rest assured, we’ll contact you immediately if her condition changes.”

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  I sit in silence for the next hour. The tea revives me slightly, but then I realise just how hungry I am. My arm is aching from sitting holding Sal’s hand, and I am getting really restless. My trips to the toilet start to become more frequent, simply because I am so bored.

  Where is Guy?

  I consider popping out to get something to eat, but decide against it. I want to be here when he arrives. So, returning to my seat, I find myself beginning to talk to Sal about the only remaining subject that I know anything about.

  Me.

  Soon, without me consciously realising it, I am telling her about Kate. I tell her how we met, what we did together, the things we got up to, and even how much I loved her. Then, with Sal being the best listener I have ever met, I find myself telling her how we split up, about Kate sleeping with the other guy, how she confessed to me that she had done it, and then even about the tape she sent me. I even tell Sal about Hannah’s theories, and my self-realisation that I have been pushing women away from myself for years. Gail even makes a guest appearance in my confession, and I tell Sal about her ideas that my lack of trust in women stems from my mum’s adultery and her abandoning us as kids. Finally I tell her about my resolve to fix my life. To make it better. To find a way for me to love and trust women. To become a better person.

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  She listens to me. Every single word. She doesn’t judge me. She doesn’t question me. Nor criticise or laugh at me. Instead, she lies there and absorbs every word. When I am finished, Sal says nothing. Her eyes remain closed, digesting all I have to say, but comforting me throughout by never removing her hand from mine as I make my confession.

  At the end of it all, when I have said all there is to be said, I feel emotionally exhausted, as if I have just gone through a marathon self-analysis on a psychiatrist’s couch. “Wow,” I think to myself. “That was….that was weird. But good.”

  I look at my watch. It’s half past nine. And then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

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  Chapter Twenty-Seven

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  I turn with a fright and stand up. It’s Guy. He’s as white as a sheet and staring straight at Sal. He doesn’t look at me, although I feel his grip tighten on my shoulder by way of a greeting. He walks around to the other side of the bed and bends over Sal, kissing her on the lips. Tears begin to flow and he whispers something in her ear that I do not catch.

  Realising that it’s best if I make myself scarce for a while, I step outside of the green curtain, pulling it closed behind me to give them both privacy, and then go of in search of a nurse. I know that Guy is going to have a lot of questions, and I’m not the best person to answer them.

  I return about ten minutes later with a nurse and a doctor. The nurse steps inside the curtain, advising me to wait outside for a few minutes. Inside, I can hear her comforting a very distraught and upset Guy and it is a few minutes before they both emerge together. I quickly wrap Guy into a man-hug, trying to give him whatever strength I can. No words are said. The doctor puts forward a hand, which Guys shakes, whilst wiping an eye with his other free hand. Waving towards a room at the end of the corridor, we all go in and sit down, and the Doctor explains to Guy everything that I have been told over the past few days. When we emerge back onto the ward thirty minutes later, Guy thanks the doctor and the nurse, and Guy and I both go back to Sal.

  “Guy,…” I start to say.

  “It’s okay, Andrew. You don’t need to say anything.” He smiles at me.

  “You heard the doctor, Guy. There’s no reason why she can’t make a full recovery. All we have to do is wait.”

  “Yes, but will it be a day, a year, or ten years?”

  “Let’s be positive about this. The majority wake up pretty soon. This time next week we could all be at home together.”

  Guy sits down beside Sal, taking her hand in one of his, and with the other hand he gently picks some strands of hair away from her face.

  “She was meant to be giving me her answer tomorrow. She was going to be telling me that she wanted to become my wife…” Guys says, distantly.

  “She still might. Who knows what will happen?”

  “Have you managed to be here much with her?” Guy asks.

  “Yes. I was here yesterday, and then all day today. I’ve been with her all that time, talking to her, trying to get her to respond in some way to any of the questions I was asking.”

  “And…? Was there any sign at all that she could hear you?”

  “None. I kept hoping that she would squeeze my hand, or blink, or something. Anything…but to be honest, she hasn’t responded at all.”

  I stand at the bottom of Sal’s bed, watching the two of them. He has started talking to her again, quietly. I can’t hear what he is saying, and I feel that I am intruding again. Time to go.

  “Guy, I think I should leave you both alone. I’ve got my mobile switched on. If you need me at all, just give m
e a buzz, okay?”

  He turns around and looks at me, the expression on his face one of so much hurt and so much pain that my throat tightens in response and my heart goes out to him. He looks so utterly helpless. Gone is the big, cuddly, powerful bear that I know as Guy. All that is left is a little scared, lost cub.

  “I may not be home tonight… I might just sleep here…and you don’t need to come in tomorrow. I want to be with her by myself. Andrew, can you take my luggage home with you?”

  “No problem. But call me, okay? Let me know if you need me, or you want anything? Or if she opens her eyes or something?”

  “I will buddy. I promise.”

  Then he turns his back on me, and he is alone again with Sal. Just the two of them.

  It’s ten thirty. By eleven thirty I am home, lying on my bed, with the another full glass of Guy’s secret whisky reserve in my hand.

  By eleven forty I am fast asleep.

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  I awake on Sunday morning at 10 am. I feel empty, alone, and deflated. There is nothing to celebrate, nothing to feel good about. No reason to smile today. The flat resounds of the unhappiness and sadness that Guy must be going through just now, and I know that I have to get out of here.

  I try calling Gail as I walk out of the flat into the glorious summer day outside, but there is no reply. Walking to a nearby café I grab two bacon rolls and a coffee and head off to Clapham Common. Sitting on the grass I devour the rolls, wishing I had bought a third, and then lie back in the sunshine, trying to absorb some internal warmth from the sun’s rays.

  As I lie back relaxing on the grass I call Hannah, and when she picks up the phone, it all pours out. All the frustration, pain and loneliness I have felt over the past few days. I tell her all about Sal, and she is shocked to the core. For some reason, perhaps because of the precarious state that Sal is currently in, and maybe because of the guilt I felt when I thought she had died because I had wished her dead, for these reasons or perhaps others, I do not tell Hannah about what happened last Friday night when I saw Sal with the other man. We talk until my mobile battery goes dead and we are cut off, by which time Hannah has managed to lighten some of the burden that I feel crushing down on my shoulders.

  Unfortunately the relief is only temporary, and walking back towards the flat, the loneliness soon returns. When I call Gail, Luke tells me that she has gone out with Ben again. Seemingly it went well on Friday night, a revelation which does nothing to help my confused mood.

  “Shall I tell her that you called?” he asks.

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll see her tomorrow in the office,” I reply, wondering if my status of new best-friend has just been usurped by Ben.

  I am just about to cross the road, when I see a bus coming towards me, the sign on the front announcing that it is heading towards Tooting Broadway. Without further thought, or anything like what could be classed as a rational decision making process, I run to the bus stop and wave it down. A minute later I am on the top deck heading towards Tooting, where I jump off and swap buses for the number 42 heading past Mitcham Common. There is something that I have to do today, and this time, I am not going to back out or run away. What with everything that has happened to Sal and Guy and the confusion that it has generated in me, right now I may not have the strength or the will to face my future, but before the day is out, I will have taken the first step to facing up to my past.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

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  Standing outside the house with the cracked window, the red-tiled path and the green door, I question what I am about to do. I know that once I knock on the door, there is no going back.

  The past few days have left me feeling jaded, almost distant and detached from my surroundings, but already I can sense a different reality and view of life emerging from the whole near-death experience that I am going through with Sal and Guy. From this I take the courage to realise that it’s time to face up to the past. There are questions which need to be answered.

  Against all expectations I am experiencing very little emotion just now. It’s almost as if I have taken a tranquiliser. As I put my hand on the garden gate, ready to push it open, I look down at my hand and notice that it is rock solid; there is no nervous shaking, In fact, as I open the gate to number 38 Beech Gardens and start to finally walk up the short path I am surprised how calm and steady I am.

  I have dreamt about this moment so many times before and have pictured in my mind’s eye a thousand different scenarios for how the next five minutes will go, but now it’s time to find out what happens in reality.

  I breathe deeply, lift my hand and ring the doorbell. There is a brief second where I contemplate turning to the gate and running away, but I shake my head and bury the idea without further consideration. Today is the day, and nothing is going to stop me. So, expecting to hear the sound of footsteps at any moment, I step backwards from the door and straighten up my back, improving my posture to make the best possible first impression.

  No one comes.

  I ring the doorbell again. And wait.

  Still no one comes.

  Stepping backwards from the door, I look up at the windows of the floor above, and then I hop over the ankle high little white fence onto the grass and try to peer through the front window only to find that the curtains are firmly closed.

  I ring the doorbell again, and bang the letter box a few times for extra effect.

  The house remains eerily silent.

  Blast. Of all the scenarios I had painfully dragged myself through over the years, none of them had included the possibility that having plucked up the courage to come here and knock on the door, that no-one would be home.

  Feeling stupid and even more deflated than before, I walk back down the garden path, and stand outside on the pavement, looking up and down the street and then back at No 38 in search of some guidance as to what I should do next. When I return an hour later after having gone for a long walk across Mitcham Common, the house is still empty. I walk up and down the street a few more times, perhaps hoping for someone to turn up and go into the house, but no one does.

  Half an hour later, for the second time in only three weeks, I am sitting on the number 42 going home, mission aborted.

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  My head is resting on the glass window, and my eyes are shut. The warmth of the seat above the engine at the back of the lower deck, and the gentle rocking of the bus quickly sends me to sleep, but as we are nearing Tooting Broadway I am awoken by the sound of children laughing at the front of the bus. I open my eyes, and stretch. I have probably only been asleep for about ten minutes, but it never fails to amaze me how deep such sleeps can be.

  My attention turns to the children at the front of the bus: two boys playing around and being loud and obnoxious. They are eating packets of crisps and as I watch, one of them starts to stand on the seat, whilst trying to swing from two of the hand-supports hanging from the roof in the centre of the aisle.

  A woman in the seat behind them stands up and says something very sternly to the two children, and both of them immediately shut up, and sit back down on their seats. I don’t get a chance to see the woman’s face but a few stops later, both the children get up and go to the door. The woman gets up behind them and as she stands at the exit behind the two boys, waiting for the bus to stop, I am pleasantly surprised to see that it is the attractive blonde woman that I have twice seen on the train going into London.

  As I look at her, she looks towards the rear of the bus, and catches me,…once again… looking at her and admiring her. She smiles back, obviously recognising me. The bus is stopping now, and the doors are opening, the two children in front of her jumping off onto the pavement. She takes a step towards the door and then looks back in my direction, half-raising a hand towards me in a small wave. She steps out of the door, and the door closes, but as the
bus starts to move off she turns to look at me once again, just in time to see me waving at her out of the back window.

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  The incident with the attractive mystery blonde woman on the bus lifts my spirits for the rest of the day. It wasn’t a big wave, as far as waves go, but it is enough to make me spend the next hour or two thinking about it. There is something about this mysterious blonde woman that I like. “Next time I see her,” I promise myself, “I have to try and talk to her. At least, just to find out her name and where she comes from.”

  When I get back to the flat it is almost six o’clock. The flat is empty, and when I check the answering machine there is only one message, which is from Mandy saying that she cancelled the rest of her business trip across Europe and she is back in London. Will Guy or me call to tell her exactly where Sal is so that she can go and visit her?

  When I call her back she doesn’t answer, so I leave her a message.

  I’m a bit worried about Guy. He didn’t come home last night, and there’s no sign that he has come back this afternoon either. After grabbing something to eat in the kitchen, I pick up some fresh clothes from his room and head off to the hospital, hoping to persuade him to come home tonight and get some rest. As I am leaving the flat I wonder to myself what on earth I will talk to Sal about tonight if Guy does leave me alone with her, and in a moment of inspiration I pop back into my room and pick up the copy of “Marrying Slovakia” from the floor, thinking that maybe I can start reading the book to Sal while I am with her.