CHAPTER 44
Sleeping was purgatory. Waking to reality was hell. He had fallen asleep in a leather wing chair close to her body. The persistent ringing of the phone extension on a side table awoke him. It sounded like a fire-bell going off inside his head. He took in his surroundings semi-consciously and gagged on the smell in the room. The cushion was now red, soggy and stank.
The ringing stopped.
His head ached – from too much drink and too little real sleep. As he pulled himself wearily from his chair, he saw the brandy bottle on the floor, most of its contents spilled and a dark stain dried into the carpet. A twisted smile shot across his lips, and he let out a long, loud sigh of desperation at what was.
As he ran a bath, he phoned his chauffeur, telling him to pick him up at nine.
