‘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 orso 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.’
