Chapter 12
I’m woken by the slam of the bedroom door followed by the sudden glare of the overhead light.
‘What the hell?’ I murmur as I sit up in bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
‘Evening, schweetheart,’ Robert says sarcastically as he crosses the floor to the double bed, sweeping the clothes still piled on it onto the floor. ‘Did you miss me?’ His voice is slightly slurred and he’s swaying gently as he stands; he’s obviously had a lot to drink.
‘What time is it?’ I ask him.
‘Half past midnight.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Throbbert!’
‘What? And stop calling me that, Libby.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you that I might be asleep? And who the hell is Libby?’
He smiles, evidently pleased with himself. ‘It’s my nickname for you. Every time you call me Throbbert, I’m going to call you Libby.’
‘Why Libby?’
‘Short for Liberal Democrat, because you’re named after a political party. Clever, isn’t it.’
‘Genius. I’ll give MENSA a call in the morning to tell them all about you. In the meantime, can you please turn the bloody light off so I can go back to sleep?’
‘How am I supposed to see?’
‘Use the bedside light. You know, the one I deliberately left on for you for that very purpose.’
He stares at me blearily for a while, evidently trying to come up with some form of witty riposte, before marching back over to the door and turning off the main light.
‘Thank you,’ I say exasperatedly as I lie back down.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, letting out a loud belch as he heads for the bathroom.
‘What a pig,’ I mutter as I roll over and shut my eyes again.
Unfortunately any possibility of me getting back to sleep is soon wiped out by the sound of him crashing around in there.
There are more loud belches, followed by something that sounds not unlike a waterfall, but I imagine is him peeing.
He’s incredible. He can’t even perform basic bodily functions without being annoying.
By the time he’s brushed his teeth, I’ve endured a concert involving pretty much every bodily orifice he has, and I’m wide awake.
‘You might want to give it a few minutes,’ he says with a smirk as he re-enters the room, wearing nothing except a pair of boxer shorts. ‘Oh, and before you complain about my outfit, it’s perfectly decent.’
‘Don’t you have a T-shirt at least?’
‘Yeah, but I get hot in bed.’ He laughs. ‘I’m hot in bed, geddit? Anyway, I’m not showing you anything you wouldn’t see by the pool, so I suggest you get over yourself, honey.’
He stares defiantly at me, evidently spoiling for an argument.
I’m just about to open my mouth and tell him what I think of him before I remember my earlier vow to try to be the bigger person here.
With a sigh, I roll over so I’m facing away from him.
After a moment, I hear him clambering into bed.
I’m just starting to think I might actually be able to get back to sleep when he belches again, loudly.
‘Fuck me,’ he murmurs with a soft laugh. ‘I’m windier than a tornado. Gassy beer makes for gassy Robert.’
I’m itching to make a sarcastic remark about how I can’t imagine why Fliss split up with him, but catch myself just in time.
‘How was the Blue Dolphin?’ I ask instead. If I’m not to be allowed to sleep, I might as well find out if Gabriel’s assessment was accurate.
‘Fucking expensive,’ he replies grumpily.
‘First, they had the arse because we wanted to pay with Jamaican dollars rather than US. I mean, what kind of country is it when they don’t even want their own sodding currency?
Then they told us we had to have at least one rum punch, because it’s their national drink or some such bullshit.
I couldn’t taste any bloody rum in it, and they had the gall to charge two and a half thousand Jamaican dollars for it.
That’s over a tenner for what was effectively a glass of fruit juice.
So we switched to bottled beer, cos nobody can fuck that up, can they?
Two thousand dollars a bottle! It was still better than sitting around here drinking vegetarian fucking fanny juice, or whatever the hell it is. Anyway, what do you care?’
‘I don’t, really,’ I tell him. ‘I was just making conversation.’ I know I’m trying to be the bigger person here but, after the way he’s just been, I can’t help thinking he doesn’t deserve to know about Raphael’s bar after all.
‘Probably best if you don’t,’ Robert observes. ‘Conversations with you never seem to end well. Anyway, I’m knackered.’ The room goes dark as he switches off the light. ‘Goodnight, Libby.’
‘Goodnight, Throbbert.’
I’m in a steam room with Amy and Lily, but I’m surprised to see that Priya and Rosie are also there. Even more surprising is the fact that they’re all wearing swimming costumes but I appear to be completely naked. ‘Why don’t I have a costume on?’ I ask them.
‘Because you’re a lying hypocrite and you don’t deserve one,’ Amy says angrily. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you did?’
Before I can reply, the scene changes to Raphael’s bar.
The place is still really busy, but there isn’t the happy buzz of conversation that there was earlier.
Instead, everyone is pointing and laughing cruelly at a woman sitting by herself at one of the tables.
It takes me a moment to realise that she’s me.
I start awake, momentarily disorientated before I remember where I am.
It takes me a moment to realise that it was just a dream, but I breathe a sigh of relief.
As I lie in the darkness, trying to regain my equilibrium, I become aware of a strange sound coming from the bed next to me, and it takes me a while to work out what it is.
‘Robert?’ I whisper.
There’s no response but the sound continues.
‘Robert!’ I repeat.
The sound stops. ‘What?’ he replies.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. Go to sleep.’
I close my eyes and try to focus on thinking happy thoughts.
I don’t want any more dreams like the one I’ve just had.
Annoyingly, however, I’m now on full alert, waiting for the sound to restart.
Sure enough, it begins again after a minute or so and I realise any chance of sleep has just gone up in smoke.
I find Robert loathsome, but I can’t listen to this and not do anything.
I sit up in bed, reach over and flick on the bedside light.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears away from his face.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing you. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘The evidence would indicate otherwise. Come on. What’s up?’
‘I said I’m fine.’
‘Of course you are,’ I tell him with a sigh. ‘That’s why you’re lying in the dark, sobbing your heart out.’
I can see him trying and failing to style this out, before his resolve evidently crumples.
‘This is the room that Fliss and I were supposed to be sharing.’
‘I know.’
‘It sounds stupid, but it reminds me of her, and I miss her, OK?’
He obviously senses my confusion because he continues after a moment. ‘It wasn’t my choice to end the relationship,’ he says.
Given my experience of him so far, this isn’t exactly a surprise. However, even though my jetlagged brain is barely functioning, I am able to realise that this wouldn’t be a helpful remark to make right now.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask instead.
‘Not really.’
‘Then we have a problem, don’t we?’
‘Why?’
‘Because, whatever you think of me, I’m not such a monster that I can listen to you crying and ignore it.’
‘I’ve stopped.’
‘For now, maybe, but I can see you’re still upset. Look, I know we haven’t exactly hit it off so far, but I’ve been where you are. Maybe I can help.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘From where I’m sitting, I think you have two options.
You could lie there and wallow in your misery, or you could talk to someone and get some of it off your chest. I’m here and neither of us is going to sleep with things as they are, so why not talk to me?
’ I push back the covers and get out of the bed.
‘Where are you going?’ he asks.
‘There’s a kettle over here and some teabags. I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one? If you manage to say please without it sounding forced, I’ll even promise not to poison it.’
‘Yes, please. Tea without poison would be lovely, if you’re making it.’
We lapse into silence while I carry the kettle into the bathroom to fill it, before plugging it in and waiting for it to boil.
‘Right,’ I tell him when I’ve placed two steaming mugs on the bedside table and climbed back into my bed. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’
He sighs deeply. ‘We had a big row. I mean, we’d argued before, but this was seismic.’
‘What about?’
‘To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure. I mean, I know the thing that started it, but it was one of those rows that just grew and grew and, by the end, it was like she was carpet bombing everything about me and our relationship.’
I take a sip of my tea. I made it deliberately strong in the hope it would start to force my addled brain into life. Something tells me this isn’t going to be a short conversation, and I’m going to need every ounce of tact I have if I’m going to stop him closing up on me.