The Stranger in Our Bed: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller that will keep you hooked

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘I won’t,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I know that. But he isn’t quite so secure. Yet.’

  I didn’t answer, but continued to wrap pastry around the beef.

  ‘He was such an … intense child. I was concerned about him sometimes, because he was so serious. It was always difficult to get him to …’ She paused, and I stopped working on dinner. ‘There were a few girlfriends before you.’

  I was surprised that she’d mention any old flames of Tom’s – he’d always said there was no one significant.

  ‘Oh, don’t look shocked!’ Isadora said. ‘Of course, he had girlfriends. He’s a very attractive man and the daughters of our peers all hoped to capture him. But he was never really interested. They were all … weak. Spoilt girls. Tom needed someone better than that, so he was cold to them. Though I’m sure he had a few … trysts with one or two. Probably that’s the side of himself he’s showing you now. But he doesn’t mean it, not with you. He’s always loved you, right from the first time he saw you.’

  ‘You seem very sure of that.’

  ‘I am. He called me the first day you met. In the library, wasn’t it? He saw you, head down, pouring over the course study guide. He watched you go around the library, systematically searching out every book you needed.’

  The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as she spoke. Tom had never told me he’d seen me in the university library. I remembered the day well, because I’d arrived on campus early and was making sure I got one of the few copies of each book available, because I couldn’t afford to buy them with my pathetic student loan and bursary.

  ‘What did he say about me?’ I asked.

  ‘Just that he’d met the most beautiful girl and she was smart too.’

  I didn’t correct her, even though the truth was we didn’t meet until a few weeks later at a party. I hadn’t wanted to go, but my roommate persuaded me.

  ‘You’re at uni, mate,’ she’d said. ‘You’re supposed to have fun sometimes.’

  ‘You brought him out of himself, made him appreciate things. You two laughed all the time. Do you remember that?’ Isadora said.

  I nodded. Yes, he had been a little intense at that party. And I’d said something glib about black sheep that made him laugh. The memory made me smile again. I told Isadora about it and she gave a small chuckle.

  ‘Do you still laugh?’ she said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you can find it again. It’s about … deciding to be happy. Accepting things again. Before all of this happened, you were happy, weren’t you?’

  Before Ewan, Tom made me happy. That’s true, I thought. But not always.

  ‘Perhaps you should both get some counselling.’

  ‘I doubt Tom would want to air our dirty laundry.’

  ‘Well, you know best, dear.’

  ***

  Isadora stayed for dinner and I was glad of her presence when Tom arrived home. He had that mean look in his eyes again. When he saw Isadora the tension fell away. Maybe because he never wanted her to see this cruel, dark side of him. I sighed without realizing it and both of them looked at me.

  ‘Welcome home,’ I said to Tom and then I instigated a kiss and wrapped my arms around him.

  He was surprised but returned the hug and the kiss. His shoulders relaxed. We pulled apart after an awkward moment and then Isadora and Tom went into the living room and sat and talked while I finished dinner.

  I could hear his calm tones and I wished that she could be with us every evening.

  Don’t get me wrong, Tom never physically hurt me. He was cold with me, but I knew it was all anger and insecurity. It was an impossible thing to fix in too short a time. I was afraid of Tom because I feared his words of hatred which would hurt me more. Even so, he never said them. He never threw my crime up in my face. Perhaps it would have been better if he had called me the names.

  There was a noticeable change that evening though. Tom relaxed around Isadora and therefore I saw the old Tom reappear. As I watched him, smiling and chatting after dinner with a brandy in his hand, I began to understand what Isadora had been trying to tell me. Once we had been good for each other. Was it inconceivable that we couldn’t right our world again?

  It was what Tom said he wanted after all.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ Isadora said, rising to leave.

  ‘It’s been wonderful to see you, Mother,’ said Tom.

  He probably dreaded coming home to be alone with me too and Isadora’s presence had given him respite, just as it had me.

  I walked her to the door. A car had been arranged to take her home to her London apartment; Surrey was too far away this late at night.

  ‘He was better tonight with you here,’ I whispered into her ear as she hugged me.

  ‘You’re getting in your own way, dear,’ she murmured back. ‘Meet him halfway.’

  I said good night and closed the door.

  Alone with Tom I feared the flood of anger. I paused for a second by the door, then made my way back to the living room to face whatever was coming.

  Tom was sitting on the sofa when I entered the living room.

  ‘What a lovely evening,’ he said.

  He smiled at me with genuine warmth. I smiled back relieved by his mood and expression. He was still calm and relaxed.

  ‘Yes it was. Your mother and I are finally becoming friends.’

  ‘You have a lot in common,’ he said.

  I flushed then, wondering if he knew of his mother’s unfaithful streak.

  ‘Come,’ he said patting the sofa beside him.

  I sat down. Tom put his arm around me and pulled me into his chest. I snuggled in, forcing myself to relax and ‘not get in my own way’ as Isadora had suggested. For years I’d fought against her and now she was the voice of reason.

  ‘I love you,’ Tom said. ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to show you that lately.’

  I couldn’t say the words back because I’d promised myself I’d never lie to him again, but I lifted my face and met his lips. I didn’t want to live in fear and uncertainty anymore and I knew that the only way to stop this was to re-embrace my marriage. Perhaps I was weak and capitulation was the only course I could take, but for that moment I didn’t care. I wanted – needed – to stop hurting. Just for a little while.

  Tom kissed me and it was soft and patient and not the demanding pressure that had been the focus of our sex life for the last few weeks. I pulled away first and then I stood and held out my hand, inviting him to come to bed with me. His eyes widened, surprised that I was instigating contact.

  We walked together hand in hand and went into the bedroom.

  There was a moment of awkwardness as we stood at the bottom of the bed, but then I began to undo the buttons on Tom’s shirt and I kissed a line down his chest that I hoped would go some distance to heal the hurt I’d inflicted on him. When I unzipped his trousers he was ready for me.

  We made love for the first time in a long time. I gave myself back to him. It was an unspoken promise that I’d make things right. All the time I told myself, choose to be happy.

  The doubts and fears reared a few times but I pushed them back, forced Ewan from my mind, and resolved that I would never think about him again. I was determined to improve things. I knew that if I didn’t I would continue to die inside.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tom took a few days off work and we went away on an impromptu trip. It wasn’t anywhere romantic like Paris or Milan; instead, we visited Isadora’s country estate. She wasn’t in residence in the winter much and so Tom had warned the housekeeper we were coming.

  I hadn’t been to the estate recently. Isadora spent a lot of time in London and it was there that we mostly saw her.

  ‘I’d like to be alone with you,’ Tom had said when he suggested the trip.

  I had laughed because even when Isadora wasn’t home, there was always staff present. This included a groundskeeper that everyone referred to as ‘Old Fre
ddie’, a housekeeper called Mrs Tanner – who I’d always found very aloof – and a couple of girls who came in twice a week to clean.

  As we drew nearer Tom turned to me with a smile. ‘I don’t know why Mother doesn’t stay here more often,’ he said.

  We were in the Range Rover, a car Tom liked to use whenever we went to the estate or on visits to friends who lived outside London. He stroked my knee as he drove and when we stopped at some lights he had turned and kissed me. It was good and I was enjoying his company.

  ‘I suppose she finds it lonely without your father,’ I said.

  But I thought I knew why Isadora didn’t like being there. There was always an atmosphere. I’d been aware of it even on our wedding day. A kind of darkness that surrounded the house, like a distant memory of past times when something bad occurred there. It was a stupid thought, but it overshadowed the day until I made a mental note to ‘stop being silly’ and turned my attention back to Tom.

  Our conversations were beginning to feel natural again. A night of reciprocated affection had done wonders for Tom’s mood. His way of dealing with our problems was to push himself on me; mine was to try to avoid him. Now that I was making an effort, I was happier, and the anxious feeling that had constantly been in the pit of my stomach had receded. Tom’s anger was gone too. He was smiling easily and appeared to be more peaceful.

  We arrived after lunch because we’d taken our time getting to the house and had stopped to eat at a small village pub on the way. Mrs Tanner was waiting for us when we arrived, and our bags were ferried upstairs to Tom’s room.

  ‘So nice to see you both again,’ said Mrs Tanner but her voice was cool and distant. Part of me wondered if she was really cross that we had turned up and made work for her.

  I always thought about the book Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, when I visited the Manor, and the housekeeper Mrs Danvers. Isadora’s house could be a smaller version of Manderley with its wings and grounds, and there was even a huge painting of Isadora on the landing at the top of the stairs that amused me. Isadora was still a handsome woman, but she had been very beautiful when she was younger.

  The house itself was somewhat Gothic and for that reason I’d often found it a little creepy. I had never been used to large houses, not having come from the background Tom had. Tom loved the house though, and he was very relaxed whenever we’d visited in the past. In fact, it was difficult to imagine how he coped with living in our city centre apartment – albeit bigger and more luxurious than most, it was still small compared to the Manor.

  As we entered the main entrance, I noticed that Isadora had redecorated since my last visit, which was probably more than two years ago.

  ‘It looks nice in here,’ I said admiring the eggshell blue on the walls.

  ‘Bit traditional though?’ said Tom.

  ‘You have to be in keeping with a property like this though,’ I said.

  The huge hallway, with its central staircase that opened up in the centre and went in two opposite directions used to be painted in a dark, angry red that Isadora thought was ‘grand’. The colour had always had a strange effect on me, making me feel stressed whenever I entered the house.

  As we always did when we arrived, we walked upstairs together and along the landing, looking at the portraits of all of the company’s previous CEOs. There wasn’t one of Tom there yet; I guess that would come when he was older and greyer. I always thought this sort of thing was a little creepy but it didn’t bother me that day at all. I was enjoying revisiting the place now, as there had been only happy times there in the past. I saw the Manor with new eyes now. This place held the history of an old and important family. Being part of it was something I had taken for granted before, but not now.

  Perhaps I was finally growing up.

  Tom’s room was a master bedroom by anyone else’s standards. There was a super king four-poster bed, with crisp white cotton bedding – the sort we had in our apartment. A walk-in wardrobe was behind two double doors on the right (the size of a regular bedroom) and on the left there was a huge en suite bathroom with a whirlpool bath, a double sink and large shower unit.

  I ran the water into the bath while Tom went off to talk to Mrs Tanner. Then I unpacked our case into the wardrobe, which was otherwise totally bare except for some boxes on the top shelf. When Tom returned, he closed and locked our bedroom door.

  ‘Come here, Mrs Carlisle,’ he said.

  I went to him and we kissed and Tom began to strip me.

  ‘I forgot about the bath!’ I said pulling away.

  The water was almost overflowing by the time I turned the taps off. Tom came into the bathroom wearing only his robe while I let some of the water out. I turned and watched him drop the robe over a chair and then I looked at his perfect body and almost cried.

  I finished undressing, my hands trembling.

  ‘Darling?’ Tom said.

  I kept my head down but Tom refused to let me hide.

  He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’ve been such a fool!’ I said. Then I buried my head in his bare chest, forcing back the tears. I was determined I would never cry again over this.

  ‘It’s all right, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘I promised to always take care of you and I will.’

  He held me for a while.

  ‘Let’s get in before the water cools,’ he said.

  We soaked in the bath, enjoying the bubbles as they pummelled our muscles, taking away the aches of the journey and some of the pain in my heart. We sat opposite each other, not touching, but Tom chattered to me about things that had happened in this house when he was a child. I’d heard the stories before about his nanny and the practical jokes he’d played on her and the previous housekeeper (long since retired) but I listened anyway. It was nice to see him animated again and I giggled at his stories as though it were the first time I’d heard them.

  When the water cooled, Tom pulled me out of the bath and led me to his bed, where we continued to rebuild the bridges of our relationship.

  We spent a few days wandering the grounds and eating in our room. I barely saw Mrs Tanner or the other servants and they kept discreetly out of our way. In those few days I became more and more familiar with the place. I didn’t remember living so comfortably here before. Perhaps it was because it was Isadora’s domain and I had always been a visitor. But as the days passed, it began to feel like home from home.

  ‘Do you like it here?’ Tom asked me.

  It was a cold but sunny day and we had passed into the back garden via the kitchen.

  ‘I love it. It’s a beautiful house and it’s so peaceful.’

  ‘Of course, this place is technically ours,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s mine. The will gives Mother the right to remain until death but the house is mine.’

  ‘I’d forgotten about that,’ I said. ‘But this will always be your mother’s house to me.’

  ‘You’ll feel differently once you’re the lady of the house.’

  ‘That won’t be for many years, darling. Let’s not think of it.’

  ‘I would like us to live here one day, though,’ Tom said. ‘Raise that family. Would you mind that, even if Mother was still here?’

  I looped my arm in his. Since we’d been here I had felt more relaxed and things had been better with Tom. There were worse places I could think of living. ‘It’s perfect for children.’

  We walked towards the small area of forest that covered about an acre of the land. Nearer to the house was a newly dug patch of earth, a long narrow bed that ran along the edge of the woodland for about fifty yards.

  ‘Mother has the gardener plant fresh bulbs for spring every year. Give it a month and this will be full of wild flowers,’ Tom said.

  ‘That’s lovely,’ I said.

  Then I saw Old Freddie. He was over in the woods, carrying a cracked-open shotgun over his shoulder.

  ‘
Why’s he holding it that way?’ I asked.

  ‘Safety. You’re not supposed to walk around with the gun closed unless you’re hunting.’

  Tom took out his phone and took pictures of me leaning against one of the trees.

  ‘New memories!’ he said.

  ‘I love it here.’

  ‘Smile.’

  I did and it wasn’t forced.

  ‘Freddie!’ called Tom. ‘Come over here and help us, will you?’

  Old Freddie came out of the trees. I had never seen much of him on my visits; he always avoided us and he looked unhappy at being called over now.

  ‘Mr Tom,’ he nodded his head. ‘What can I help you with?’

  ‘Take a picture for me. Of Charlotte and I. Stand there, darling, and I’ll join you …’

  Tom pointed to a patch of earth.

  ‘On here?’ I said.

  ‘No, so it’s in the background.’

  I did as he said and Tom started to explain to Old Freddie how to use the camera on his phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Tom, I don’t hold with those contraptions,’ Old Freddie said.

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  ‘No!’ said Old Freddie firmly. He stepped back, his eyes wide. ‘I can’t help you.’ Then he turned and stomped away back into the woods.

  ‘That was odd,’ I said.

  Tom laughed but it sounded forced. ‘Don’t worry about him. You know what the older generation can be like about technology.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll do a selfie instead.’

  Tom took the picture.

  ‘I want to capture some of the woods in the background …’ he said.

  I looked back at the house and saw one of the girls hanging out sheets on the line.

  ‘I think those are ours …’ I giggled. ‘They’ve been well used the last few days.’

  Tom laughed and pulled me to him.

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  It was just like our early days together, and the old Tom, before he became the CEO of Carlisle Corp, returned. There were no business calls and meetings. There was just us and the outside world didn’t matter for a while.

  It was, I suppose, a genuine second honeymoon.