‘Ok.’ She left me in the toilet alone and I hid in the cubicle, heartbroken, humiliated and ashamed. This was worse than I’d ever felt in my entire life. The devil reappeared on my shoulder, murmuring, ‘I told you so.’ I pinned my hands to my ears. I couldn’t bear to hear it. This was karma in full force. How dare I think I could leave Rob and expect to find happiness myself? How had I allowed myself to fall so utterly and hopelessly in love with John Kelly?
My main priority that second was to get far away from there as fast as possible. I would lick my wounds in private later. I just needed to escape. There was no way I could face him, or her, or anyone else out there. I couldn’t for a second pretend to feel like my entire world hadn’t just been obliterated in front of me.
Jane returned swiftly with the key card. ‘It won’t be long before he comes looking for you,’ she warned me.
‘I know,’ I said. I’d immediately assumed he was always that way because he wanted to protect me, but perhaps he couldn’ttake the chance someone else would talk to me first. I felt sick. I felt stupid. And I needed to leave immediately.
‘What are you going to do?’ Jane asked.
‘I need to get my passport. I’m getting the first plane out of here.’ I was on autopilot, desperate to get as far away as physically possible before I splintered into a trillion pieces.
‘Would you not just sleep on it?’ Jane tried to reason with me. ‘I know it looks bad, but what if it’s not what she said?’
‘If it’s not what she said, then why did she say it? And why could I not get hold of him at all on Thursday night? You’re the policewoman, the evidence doesn’t look good, does it?’
I flew out the toilets and up the stairs two at a time. Jane wanted to come with me but I begged her to go buy me some time and stall John. I didn’t want him seeing me like this. I didn’t want to let myself down by causing a scene. I just needed to get out of the country as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, I always left my passport in my weekend bag. I glanced around the room that we’d been so happy in only a few hours earlier, the unmade bed taunted me now. How could he do that to me? I tried not to think about it as I balled my dress and threw it into the bag. I pulled on jeans, a vest and a jacket, and the flat pumps I’d packed for the morning. I splashed some water on my face, trying to rid myself of the tell-tale streaks of mascara. It was pointless, the tears refused to stop despite my best efforts.
I fled the room, bolting down the stairs, past reception and into the crisp December air. There were four taxi’s outside the front door. The first two were booked already for guests heading home from the long day of celebrations. The third taxi driver took pity on me as I leaned into the passenger window.
‘Where do you need to go?’ he asked, starting the engine. ‘Dublin,’ I said.
‘Dublin?’ Shock lined his face. ‘That’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive,’ he said. I was well aware of that, but there was no flight from Knock until the next day and I couldn’t take the chance John would turn up at the airport with some bullshit story I’d be tempted to believe, purely because it was what I wanted to hear. That man had me fully fooled. I genuinely thought he was in love with me. I’d trusted him like no one before.
‘I know. Please take me there. I’ll pay you double. I just have to get home now,’ I begged.
He misinterpreted my tears from my broken heart as some sort of family emergency, or bereavement because he nodded then chewing hard on a piece of gum.
‘Thank you.’ Relief washed over me as we pulled away from the hotel. I prayed to God I would never set eyes on that place again and allowed my head to fall back against the rest as tears flowed freely down my face.
Chapter Thirty-Six
SATURDAY 8TH DECEMBER
I boarded the Aer Lingus flight from Dublin to Gatwick at six in the morning. My tears eventually dried up after crying the entire car journey. I was told there was space on the first flight out, but I had a three-hour wait in the airport. I sat in the twenty-four-hour McDonald’s with the shittiest tasteless cup of coffee, staring into space in shock. I switched my phone off after receiving fifty-nine missed calls from John and countless text messages pleading with me to tell him where I was. He was worried about me, apparently. It would have been laughable, if it wasn’t so tragic.
Jane must have caved and told him what had happened because the frantic texts became apologetic all of a sudden. It was at that point I switched the phone off, unable to deal with any more bullshit. I was exhausted, yet I knew sleep would never come.
A devastation like never before consumed me. Never had I allowed a man to get inside my skin like John had. I’d deliberately kept people away so they couldn’t hurt me. I’d seen first-hand what ‘true love’ had done to others. I’d been determined not to let that happen to me.
And yet there I was, my life in a fucking mess. And all my own doing. I pushed my head into my hand, willing the tears not to start again. The shame and the stupidity hurt badly enough but nowhere near as much as the gaping open wound John Kelly had left. It was this bad after only a few hours. How the hell could I go on without him?
For months he had consumed my every thought, my every waking minute and most of my dreams too. I had loved him like I never thought possible to love anyone. I was convinced he felt the same. I was so complete in his company, so safe, so loved, and at home. His arms had been my home for the last five months, despite being so far from the places I was used to.
When I eventually boarded the plane, I sank into my window seat. I decided if anyone made small talk, I’d give them the whole sordid story, just to get them to shut up. My foul mood must have radiated from me. The woman who took the aisle seat next to me nodded and immediately looked the other way.
Betsy was waiting for me at Gatwick, on the third floor of the short-stay car park. I fell into her and cried yet again, massive hopeless wailing sobs of despair. Each time I thought I had nothing left, I was proved wrong. At least I didn’t look out of place crying in an airport car park. I could have been sending off my fiancé to Afghanistan, or waving my sister off, back to Australia.
When I could manage it, I turned the ignition and drove the familiar route out of Gatwick and back down the M25. There was no need for satnav, I’d made this trip countless times in the previous few months. I drove in silence, flashbacks of the day before haunted me. I replayed that moment in the cubicle over and over again. If only I hadn’t heard, I would still be there lying in his arms in blissful ignorance. I’m not sure what was worse, living a lie or living without him.
There was absolutely no way I could go back to Ruth’s. I couldn’t face telling anyone anything, admitting another failure. Technically, nobody was expecting me home until the following day. I pulled off the motorway into a large service station with a travel lodge and decided to camp out here until I could decide what to do with myself.
‘Is there a pharmacy here?’ I asked the receptionist and she pointed across the car park at a twenty-four-hour Boots. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet but already it felt like the longest day of my life.
I bought a packet of antihistamines, the ones that warned of drowsiness and I took two of them back in the room. I’d been awake for thirty hours. I needed a break from the God-awful situation I was in. I sank under the covers, praying for a few hours of oblivion
It did the trick. I passed out into a deep dreamless sleep for six hours straight. Ignorance really was bliss. I had a brief reprieve from that gut wrenching, devastating heartache. I had no idea how to survive it.
