Only The Truth

Chapter 4

4

It’s the dreadful, bland food I’m not especially looking forward to as I get dressed and head downstairs to the restaurant. There’s no-one on reception as I walk through, which is nothing new, and I wonder where Jess might be.

Despite it being fairly early, there are still two families in the restaurant with screaming bloody kids. It’s almost like they’re trying to outdo each other. I say restaurant, but it’s more like a cross between a McDonald’s and a farm. Another put-you-up identikit gastropub designed to make hotel guests feel at home wherever they are. If home happens to be an abattoir, that is.

The barman tries to engage me in conversation. He asks me if I’m staying here for business or pleasure. Both, I want to tell him. I’m screwing that little receptionist you’ve probably had your eye on for the past couple of months. ‘Business,’ I say. ‘I work in TV.’ I immediately regret saying it, as those two letters inevitably draw people into conversation.

‘Oh cool!’ he says, his voice rising an octave as his shoulders bob and he tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear. ‘My brother’s a runner on that programme. The one that’s on in the mornings.’

‘This Morning?’ I ask, more than a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

‘Yeah, that’s the one. He wants to get into presenting at some point. That’s how quite a lot of them get started, apparently.’

‘Apparently.’

‘So what do you do?’ He leans forward on the bar, and I realise I’m in for the long haul.

‘Nothing very exciting,’ I say. ‘I design and put up lighting rigs on location sets.’

‘Oh cool!’ he says again. ‘Do you get to meet lots of big stars?’

‘I see them occasionally. They don’t tend to engage with the likes of us, though. They’re too busy trying to remember the three lines they’re getting paid a six-figure sum to say.’

He laughs and pulls another strand of hair behind his ear. ‘That’s really cool. Beats working in a bar, anyway.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

The food arrives after a rather worryingly quick eight minutes, so I wolf it down as quickly as I can and head back towards my room. As I pass through reception, I notice Jess sat behind the desk, a work colleague filing some papers beside her. I can only presume she keeps her liaisons as discreet as I do, so I throw her a cheeky wink and a smile as I pass by and head up the stairs.

The one good thing about these hotels is the satisfying duet of the click and clunk as the door to my room closes behind me. It’s the sound that tells me I’m back in my nest, safe from the outside world. I think it’s the act of locking the door, knowing that there won’t be anyone coming in to upset the quiet. No more Mr Duggans. Despite the fact that I’ve only spent a few nights in this room, its identical similarity to every other hotel room I’ve stayed in this year makes it feel like home.

I switch on the bedside light and point the remote control at the TV, pressing the big red button at the top. Something catches my eye as I walk back past the TV towards the bathroom. It’s the large number 4 in the top corner of the screen. Somehow, the telly seems to have fixed itself. Weird.

Realising that I’ll be able to spend the evening watching a couple of channels I didn’t particularly have any interest in anyway, I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

I don’t usually like seeing myself in the mirror, for fairly obvious reasons. I’m not the best-looking bloke in the world, for starters. As I gaze into the mirror this time, though, the usual face of tiredness and lost hope has something else lurking behind it, shining through. It’s that fire I lost a long time ago; something I’m sure has been brought out by Jess. She seems to have a sense of intrigue and yearning for life which leaves me fascinated and motivated in equal measure. The fact that I won’t see her again after the next day or two doesn’t seem to matter. Sometimes you meet someone – perhaps only fleetingly – who can change your life forever. And that’s fine.

I look fresh, invigorated. As if I can take on even the biggest challenges. In that moment, I also realise that I want to try to be a better husband. Sure, I’ve done bad things. We all have. But if I can do what I want to do and limit, or completely cut out, the amount of time I’m spending staying away from home, that’ll kill two birds with one stone. No temptation, no problem.

I spit the toothpaste out of my mouth and take a few slurps from the tap to rinse. I take a towel from the rack and dry my face, and that’s when I notice it.

The shower curtain is closed.

That’s not particularly odd, I know, but I definitely left it open when I went down for dinner earlier. I always do. These horrible plastic shower curtains look dreadful, so I certainly don’t want to be looking at it every time I go to the bathroom.

It starts to make a bit more sense now. Someone’s come up to fix the TV and has, for some reason, pulled the shower curtain across as well. I really wish they wouldn’t. I take hold of the edge of the curtain and pull it back, the silver rings rattling along the rail as it flies open, revealing the horror behind it.

It’s a dead body.

It’s my wife.