It was Sunday and I felt like murder. I’d had a hellish night.
Didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t switch off my mind, knowing I had a drug addict for a hotel neighbour and his bonks, footsteps, moans and grunts hadn’t help one jot. I wasn’t sure I could endure another night of the same. My eyes were sore, and my head ached and swam all at once. I couldn’t concentrate.
Down in the dining room I ate my buttered toast and sipped the weak coffee Cassie had made. Then I shunted my scrambled eggs about my plate. When I was considering taking another mouthful, she wandered in and shot me and my breakfast a look that told me she was keen for me to finish. I hesitated with my fork to my lips, holding her gaze. I might not have wanted to eat that morsel of egg, but I was in no mood to be rushed.
‘It
