Behind Closed Doors(81)

Mr Ho insists on escorting me to my new room himself. It crosses my mind that he might wonder why we always stay in one of the smaller rooms when Jack is such an illustrious lawyer so I make sure to mention that my husband likes to maintain anonymity when we’re on holiday rather than draw attention to himself by throwing money around. I don’t put it quite like that but he gets the gist.

Once Mr Ho has left, I turn the television on and search for Sky News. Even in Asia, the Tomasin verdict is big news and, as they show Antony Tomasin addressing reporters as he came out of court the previous day, Jack appears in the background, besieged by journalists. Unable to watch any longer, I turn the television off quickly. I’m desperate for a shower, but there are two calls I need to make—one to Janice and the other to Jack, to tell them that I’ve arrived safely. Luckily, both are numbers that I know by heart—Jack’s from when I first met him and Janice’s because it’s the most important number in the world. I look at my watch; it’s three in the afternoon local time, which means it’s nine in the morning in England. As the wife of Jack Angel, I make sure to get my priorities right and call him first. I have a momentary panic when I realise that anytime over the past year, he could have changed his number, so when I get through to his voicemail I feel weak with relief. I take a deep breath to steady myself and leave the sort of message a loving wife would leave, the sort of message I might have left had I been able to carry on living the dream.

‘Hello, darling, it’s me. I know you told me you might not pick up, but I was rather hoping you would—as you can tell, I’m missing you already. But maybe you’re still in bed? Anyway, I’ve arrived safely and guess what? Mr Ho felt so sorry for me being on my own that he’s upgraded us to a better room! Even so, I know I’m going to hate being here without you. Anyway, I hope the press aren’t hounding you too much and that you’re managing to get through all your paperwork. Don’t work too hard and, if you’ve got a minute, please call me back, I’m in room 107, otherwise I’ll try you again later. I love you, bye for now.’

I hang up and dial Janice’s mobile. At this time on a Saturday morning, she and Millie should have finished breakfast and be on their way to the stables for Millie’s riding lesson. When Janice doesn’t answer immediately my heart pounds with fear, in case Jack has somehow managed to get to Millie after all. But eventually she does and, while I speak to her, I remember to mention that Esther and her children will be calling in to see Millie the next day. Then I speak to Millie and just knowing she is safe, at least for the time being, makes me feel better.

I walk into the bathroom. The shower stands in the corner, concealed behind opaque doors, which means I can’t use it as there is always the possibility, however slight, that I may come out and find Jack standing on the other side of them. I look at the bath and work out that if I leave the door open, as well as that of the bedroom, I’ll be able to see through to the sitting room and, so, the main door. Reassured, I fill the bath, strip off my clothes and lower myself tentatively into the hot water. As it rises up around my shoulders, the tension that engulfed me the moment I heard Jack step into the house at three o’clock the previous afternoon melts away and I begin to cry in huge racking sobs, which tear from my body at an alarming rate.

By the time I manage to pull myself together, the water is so cold I’m shivering. Climbing out, I wrap myself in one of the white towelling robes provided by the hotel and go into the bedroom. I’m desperately hungry, so I pick up the room-service menu. I know I’m going to have to leave my room at some point if I’m to carry on pretending that everything is all right but I can’t, not yet. I order a club sandwich, but, when it arrives, I’m too frightened to open the door, even with the chain on, in case I find Jack standing there. Instead, I call for the tray to be left outside my room, which isn’t much better because there’s still the possibility that he’ll be lurking in the corridor, waiting to bundle me back inside as soon as I open the door. Finding the courage to open the door wide enough to pull the tray into the room is a major triumph and I wish I’d thought of ordering a bottle of wine along with the sandwich so that I could celebrate. But I remind myself that there will be plenty of time to celebrate later, when it is all over, approximately five days from now, if my calculations are correct. Whether they are or not is something I have no way of knowing. At least, not yet.

When I’ve finished eating, I unpack my case, look at my watch. It’s only five-thirty and because nobody would expect me to go down to dinner alone on my first night in the hotel, I feel justified in staying in my room for the rest of the day. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I lie down on the bed, not really expecting to be able to sleep. But I do and, when I next open my eyes and find that the room is in darkness, I leap out of bed, my heart thumping in my chest, and run around the room, turning on all the lights. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep again for fear of opening my eyes and finding Jack standing over me so I resign myself to spending a long night with only my thoughts for company.