Nothing Compares To You

Darkness

Lying in bed that night, Tom stared at the ceiling. Sleep was like a distant memory at 4am. He was amazed and upset and excited and all the things he'd forgotten how to feel over the years. All because of her. No, not the sleeping form next to him, but someone he hadn't slept with in a long, long time, and truthfully? He probably would never sleep with again. Not have sex with - although that was never likely to happen either - but just sleep. Contented and safe and loved.

Deborah Jane Hiddleston nee Marshall. His wife. Yes, he repeated in his head, his wife. The single best thing to have ever happened to him bar none. The single biggest regret of his life bar none. He should never have let her go.

As he lay, listening to Grace breathe in her sleep, it made him think of the hundreds of other nights where it had been his little kitten next to him. Snuffling and talking in her sleep as she always had. So quietly he could barely catch it, but always, always about him. About them. What a waste of life. What a waste of love. And it was all his fault. Now, he would never again feel her soft hands snake round him in the night, her breath light as a feather on his back as she curled her small body to his. Never feel her soft lips on his shoulder as she kissed him in the dark just to let him know she cared. Never know the exquisite pleasure of waking with her tucked safely in his arms. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

And yet... the code. Their code. She'd remembered their code. After all this time. Did it mean to her what it meant to him? Surely it did. 1543. They'd signed it at the end of all their texts, well, almost all. When it began to disappear they both knew their time was up. Neither wanting to be the one to mention it, both heartbroken at it's absence and scared to resurrect something that now was laid to rest. Surely this was a sign? But what if it wasn't? What if it was all she could think of? It was ALL he could think of.

I Still Love You.

As he finally descended into a fitful sleep, it was the phrase on his mind. It was the phrase on his lips. If only she were on them instead.

Across town, almost an hour and a million miles away, someone else was finding it hard to sleep. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees in the dark. Maybe a nightcap, that might get her to sleep. She'd stopped drinking the champagne early on. It was a nightmare to be hungover with so she knew her limits. Pulling back the covers, she slipped on her jeans and a hoodie. The bar in the hotel was on "honesty" setting at this time of night. Slipping her feet into her trainers, she crept across the floor in the dark. Iain was sound asleep, snoring gently. Lifting one of the keys and her wallet, slipping her phone into her pocket, she closed the door quietly behind her.

She stood in the hallway a moment, relishing the freshness of the corridor and the quiet seclusion. Content there was no movement from within the room, she walked away to the lifts. Passing the night manager on his rounds, she smiled and said a soft "good evening". He paused.

"Everything ok Miss?" it was a genuine concern in his voice and she was thankful. Someone at last, had noticed her pain. Iain certainly hadn't. All he had done was rave about how wonderful Tom was and how it was "so cool" she used to be married to him. A bit like she used to have a plastic raincoat when she was little but slightly less important.

"Yes, just a bit of an insomniac tonight, thought I might try a night cap" she smiled and he nodded.

"We get that alot, think it's the change of bed for most people. Well, the bar is an honesty one at this time Miss but feel free to stay as long as you need to. I'll be around if you need anything. G'night."

"Goodnight and thanks." she nodded and walked away. The manager watched her go, she was faintly familiar - had he seen her somewhere before? Maybe. He had a faint remembrance of a photo or a newspaper article, but nothing concrete. She looked sad. He hoped it was nothing bad.

Reaching the bar, she opened the glass door and entered the softly lit cocoon. Large soft easy chairs, little snug corners with tables and side lamps. Rugs to break up the wooden floor. It was all welcoming and just what she needed. Somewhere to sit and soothe her fevered soul.

Pouring herself a small measure of whisky, adding a couple of chunks of ice and leaving her details on the sheet, she found a deep sofa beside the fire. It looked real enough, but it was probably only a gas one. Still, the flames were mesmerising, whatever their source.

She slipped off her trainers and curled her feet up beside her, resting her head on the arm of the sofa. As she watched the flames curl and lick their way round the 'coals' she began to relax. The warming malt, the soft lighting and the ambience of the firelight all making her feel safe again. It reminded her of their honeymoon and for once, she didn't cry. They'd spent a week in a lodge in the Highlands. They didn't have the time - or the money - for abroad. Instead a friend had loaned them it for the week as a present. They spent their days skiing or walking or lounging about in the hot tub. Their nights curled together in front of the fire or in bed, as newlyweds do. Bliss.

That was where they'd devised their code. A number for every letter of the word. It would be secret, clandestine, their own little language of love. Even if the world around them was clamouring for a piece of them, this would be theirs.

As time, and tempers frayed, it was the one thing that remained for her. Until it didn't. He was the first to forget. Then on occasion, so was she. Then it was an occasion when either remembered. Eventually, it felt awkward, irrelevant even.

Until tonight.

She pulled her phone across the table and opened the texts. There is sat against what she now had saved as his number, "1543".

She only prayed it meant the same to him these days. Only time would tell. As the whisky and the warmth seeped into her soul, she drifted off. When the night manager popped his head round the door to check she was ok, she was sound asleep.

Carefully, he walked over and removed the tumbler from her hand. Covering her with a soft blanket from one of the other chairs, he put out the table lamp next to her. The bar would remain quiet for several hours and he would make sure the staff woke her gently before anyone else wanted to come in.

As he stood back, he heard a voice, a soft, quiet little voice. Barely there but unmistakable.

"Love you always." he turned and looked at her, slightly shocked. Her eyes were closed, and she was sound asleep with a small smile on her face. He relaxed and smiled. She was talking to someone he couldn't see. Poor woman, he knew for sure it wasn't the gentleman currently sharing her room.