The Stranger in Our Bed

by Samantha Lee Howe

  I thought about hammering on the door again. But maybe she’d call the police and I really didn’t want to make a scene.

  Downstairs I looked around for the caretaker but there was no one manning the building. There was no regular receptionist and I knew no one had seen me entering and leaving because I’d been careful. This was all very convenient at the time, but I wished someone had seen us now.

  Could the miscarriage have disturbed my mind to such an extent that I imagined the whole thing?

  I left the building, still dragging my case and handbag. I didn’t know where to go and so I looked at my phone again. The number had been correct. Ewan contacted me just the night before. I’d spoken to him in the afternoon that same day. He was loving, reassuring, desperate for us to begin our new life. What had happened in the space of those few hours?

  Where had he been last? The Savoy.

  I googled the hotel number and called.

  ‘Ewan Daniels please?’

  There was silence as the receptionist searched her computer for anyone staying with that name.

  ‘Mr Daniels checked out a few days ago,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have any forwarding address details?’ I asked. ‘It’s urgent.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, but I couldn’t give them out if I did.’

  I hung up without thanking her.

  Not knowing what else to do, I returned to Harrods in the next black cab I saw. By then I’d covered every possible scenario that might lead to an honest misunderstanding, even down to doubting myself about the meeting time. Why hadn’t I asked him to send me over the address of our new home? Why hadn’t he offered it?

  Then I stood in the rain, staring at my bedraggled reflection in the window as I let the water pour over me. I was desperately tired, and my mind couldn’t bring up even one person I could contact for help. In fact, I’d let all of my friends slip away over the last few months. It had been easier than involving them.

  My world was in tatters. The rain could drown me, and I’d let it. Tom would never forgive me. I didn’t want him to: that life was gone for me. But worst of all, the dawning realization that asserted itself in my mind. Ewan wasn’t coming. He had played me. I was practically broke, homeless and alone and this man had done this to me for some warped and twisted reason that I couldn’t fathom.

  How could anyone be so cruel?

  A black limousine drew into the kerb behind me.

  I took a sobbing breath. It wasn’t relief: it was horror at being found there, like that. At having failed to do what I said I would.

  The blacked-out window in the back rolled down.

  ‘Charlotte,’ my husband’s voice was muffled by the weather. ‘Don’t stand there like that. Someone might see you …’

  Did it matter anymore? The scandal would soon be out when the divorce papers were filed, as they would undoubtedly be, with me named ‘adulteress’.

  Stefan, got out of the limousine and came to me carrying an umbrella.

  ‘Let me take your case, Mrs Carlisle,’ he said, holding the umbrella over my head.

  He spoke gently, as if he was trying to help an invalid cross the road. I wondered what my husband had told him. Did he know I’d ruined everything?

  ‘Please, Mrs Carlisle,’ Stefan said. ‘Let me help you.’

  I could have kept dry, waited under one of the store’s canopies, but when I realized – when I knew it was over – I had stopped caring. As if the rain could help me take a slow and steady course to my final destruction.

  I met Tom’s eyes as I turned. How did it all come to this? What cruel, sick joke destroyed my once beautiful and happy life? Was Ewan in some hotel room, laughing about how he destroyed the life of the spoilt little rich girl? Maybe it had all been filmed and I would be the star of some sick new reality TV drama. I gave a bitter laugh.

  Stefan put his hand on my elbow and encouraged me to walk towards the car.

  Tom shuffled over onto the other seat as Stefan opened the door. I stared into the back, my mind blank, my soul broken. I forgot how to bend, how to move, how to climb into the car.

  ‘Charlotte. Get in!’ Tom snapped. ‘It’s a one-time offer.’

  Stefan took my case and I sank into the leather seats from pure exhaustion rather than the desire to do so. Water dripped from my hair onto my already soaked coat and the expensive leather seat squelched against my legs. The wet stockings clung to my skin.

  Tom dropped a towel onto my knee. ‘Wipe some of that water off,’ he said.

  I lifted the towel to my face and rubbed away the rain and the tears. Then I blotted my hair, feeling nothing but cold and numb.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I said.

  ‘A colleague saw you. I couldn’t allow—’

  ‘The scandal?’ I said.

  Tom stayed silent, though I waited for his bitter words, the recriminations I deserved.

  The door slammed shut and Stefan took a moment to place my suitcase in the boot before he returned to the driver’s seat.

  I felt a surge of panic. This wasn’t happening. I was starting a new life. Only I wasn’t – it had all been a lie.

  A moment later, the engine purred and the limousine pulled away into the slow-moving traffic.

  I glanced out of the window at Harrods. Part of me hoped I’d see Ewan arriving in the nick of time. But he wasn’t there. I sank back into the seat as all of the fight left me. This is the place it started: a fitting location for it to end.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I entered our apartment in silence. Stefan brought in the case and placed it in our bedroom. Just like that I knew that Tom was not planning to immediately throw me out on the streets. I didn’t say anything; instead, I waited for him to talk. For him to tell me how much I’d hurt him.

  When Stefan left, Tom ran me a bath.

  ‘Get those clothes off,’ he ordered.

  Still in shock I dropped my clothing and climbed into the bath. The old Charlotte had left the rebel outside at Harrods and submissive-me was back in the driving seat. I regressed completely to my former mousy self. I soaked until Tom told me to get out and then he wrapped a towel around me.

  I didn’t deserve this much care and couldn’t understand his tenderness.

  ‘Dry yourself,’ he said. ‘Then lie on the bed.’

  I came around a bit and looked about the room. My body was warm now, and so my freezing emotions lifted too. The white Egyptian cotton duvet was pulled back on my side of the bed as if it had been waiting for me to come home.

  I lay down, and Tom peeled off my towel. He looked down into my face, but I couldn’t meet his eyes and so I closed mine. He kissed my mouth and began to make love to me. I was frozen, unable to respond, or move, or stop him. I thought of Ewan and remembered being in his arms.

  Inside I was screaming ‘no’, but my mouth wouldn’t move.

  Tom’s love making was leisurely, not frantic or angry, and it went on for a while. He made no attempt to get me to respond. He just took his own pleasure and then collapsed on top of me.

  His weight was crushing but I was so overcome with self-loathing that I didn’t object.

  Tom sat up and threw the towel back over me. I lay there unmoving. Was this Tom’s final revenge for my betrayal?

  I wanted to die. The shame of it all bore down on me, the thought that Tom had just … had me … when it was obvious I was in a bad place.

  Tom pulled on his robe and left the bedroom. When he returned he sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. I didn’t look at him.

  ‘Sit up,’ he said.

  I did.

  ‘Here.’

  I opened my eyes. He held out a glass of brandy. I took the glass and sipped.

  ‘So he left you there? All day?’

  I couldn’t speak.

  ‘Did you call him? Did he tell you he’d led you on?’

  ‘His line was … dead.’

  ‘Who was he?’ he asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter … he
lied. It wasn’t real. I doubt he even told me his real name.’

  Tom sighed.

  ‘You were stupid, really stupid. This guy … how did you meet him?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I’ve been looking into it and I’ve found something online I’d like to show you.’ Tom got up and left the room.

  I followed him down the corridor and to his office. There I saw Tom’s computer, open on a Facebook page: it was called ‘CATFISHED’.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Sit down. Read it.’

  He went away, leaving me alone to read. There were posts by several women. All of whom had been ‘catfished’ by the same man.

  I met him in a department store @Sharon1

  He turned up on a weekend away. It seemed like a coincidence bumping into him again. He was always so charming and he spoke to me like I was the only thing that mattered. @Lizzy323

  I would have been suspicious if he’d tried to extort money from me, but he always paid for everything. @MaggieCatLover

  He begged me to leave my husband then never showed up. It was the cruellest thing anyone could have done to me. @LonelySue

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read the stories. It all sounded so familiar: the charmer who appeared one day and changed their life. He promised them everything and then he just disappeared.

  I stopped reading when I saw that one woman mentioned the disconnected phone line, the fake job, the empty flat.

  ‘This is so awful.’ My voice broke and with it any remaining disbelief.

  I closed the browser and left Tom’s office. This was the ultimate proof: it was true. Ewan had really led me on.

  What was it that one of the women said about his motives: he got some vile kick out of it.

  I could hear Tom in the kitchen, making himself dinner – a rarity. I couldn’t face him again and so I went back into my en suite bathroom.

  I stared at my mascara-streaked face. I looked gaunt, ill, sick to my stomach. I thought I’d been lonely before I met Ewan, but I was never more alone than that moment. I splashed water on my face and washed away the tears.

  I went into the bedroom and climbed into bed, exhausted and unable to think. Tomorrow Tom would throw me out. It was a given. But until that happened there was nothing else I could do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tom didn’t throw me out the next day. He woke me up, gave me a mug of tea and ordered me to drink it. After that I collapsed again into a tortured sleep. I was incapable of moving from the bed for more than a few brief moments for trips to the bathroom. This went on for a few days until one morning Tom pulled the covers off me and made me shower and dress. Then he took me into the kitchen, sat me down at the breakfast bar and placed some buttered toast in front of me.

  ‘Eat it,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t.’ Nausea rolled in my stomach at the thought of eating.

  ‘Are you trying to kill yourself?’ he said.

  His blunt words shocked me.

  ‘You’re going to get seriously ill.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be better for you?’ I said. ‘No scandalous divorce …’

  Tom sighed. He looked away, as if the sight of me sickened him. I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘I don’t want to see you die. And I won’t facilitate your self-pity. This man played you. You know that now, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘He’s an evil bastard. He led you on. Used you …’

  ‘Please …’ I said. ‘I know. You don’t have to—’

  ‘I do. I do have to. Because I have to come to terms with what’s happened. You’ve lied to me. You’ve been with another man … how do you think I feel?’

  ‘I’m sorry …’ I said.

  I put my head down on the breakfast bar. I hated myself so much. I’d hurt Tom. Why? As I ran through the last few months, I couldn’t imagine why I’d done what I’d done. But then hindsight is a wonderful thing.

  ‘Look at me,’ Tom said.

  I didn’t want to see the hurt I’d caused, but I lifted my head and met his eyes.

  ‘This is the deal,’ he said. ‘I still love you. I know it’s naive of me, after what you’ve done, but I’m willing to try to forgive and forget.’

  My eyes were heavy with tears.

  ‘How can you forgive me for this?’ I said.

  ‘Because you’re my wife, and this is ultimately my fault.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I spoke to Mother last night. She said I’ve neglected you, that the company has taken up too much of my time. That it’s all my fault. I denied it at first but I’ve thought it through.’

  Oh God! Isadora knew …

  ‘You’ve led a very sheltered life since you met me. Perhaps I was too controlling, too insistent. Perhaps I didn’t listen well enough. It’s obviously going to take me time to understand what you did, but Mother is helping me. She explained how women can feel like they are missing out on something. Even when they aren’t. She thinks this will be good for us and we’ll be stronger for it. We’ll finally be able to move on and get over that hurdle that has been stopping you wanting a family.’

  I looked at him, barely comprehending what he was saying. Was he insane? How could we ever get over this? How could I ever forget what Ewan had done to me? How could we just return to the way things were? ‘What are you saying?’ I said.

  I was trembling and the tears began to fall. I was afraid but it didn’t make sense in view of his acknowledgement of his part in this. All the feelings of isolation I’d had in my teens, after my parents died, resurfaced, along with the memories of waiting in the rain for a man who would never show.

  Tom had been my rescuer back then, but he’d also been my goaler – keeping me like Rapunzel in a tower that had no doors and just had one window through which I could barely see the real world. And then the view was filtered through his, or Isadora’s eyes.

  Ewan had empowered me, made me strong enough to leave Tom. I’d have never done this without him.

  But Ewan’s love had been a lie and now I was terrified of the ridicule that would follow. It was the worst feeling of betrayal that anyone could have. He’d given me strength and then used it to completely destroy me. But I had experienced what it was like to be out on a limb again – just as I had been as an orphaned child and it had been terrifying. I had deluded myself into believe I could do anything I wanted and it was all because Ewan Daniels had used me and pretended to love me.

  ‘You need to trust me, Char. I’m the person who’ll always care for you. Now eat that toast. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. It’s not going to be easy: I’m expecting you to make a lot of effort in our marriage to make this work. We are going to forget this happened and try to move on.’

  I heard these words but didn’t believe them. Maybe this too would turn out to be a lie. Tomorrow I’d wake to find my bags packed and Tom would escort me to the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I passed that night in a state of quiet hysteria. I lay still in the bed beside Tom, pretending to sleep. My mind ran over everything that had happened since I met Ewan Daniels – from his first appearance, to the moment he re-entered my life in Harrods. Ewan had planned the sting all along.

  I tried to see our time together with different eyes. Even when I knew I’d been fooled I still couldn’t accept it had all been a lie, because every moment had been exciting and happy. It was so hard to imagine that anyone could be that good at lying. And his words wouldn’t leave me, that awful declaration of love. No matter what happens I love you … Was that his final and cruellest blow?

  I had been at my happiest the instant I believed he loved me. A week later I found out it was a lie.

  How he must have laughed when I left the hotel. All he had to do was string me along just a few more days, then he needn’t pretend anymore. What a horrible, malicious thing to do to anyone. Even me, the unfaithful wife. What kind of man was he really? He must hate wome
n. He must have hated me.

  Covering my mouth with my hands I choked back a sob. Tom didn’t stir beside me.

  Part of me believed that I had deserved everything for my awful treatment of Tom, but part of me struggled to accept that too. Was I such a bad person that karma had found the best way to punish me? Did anyone deserve someone to lead them into self-destruction like that? Would I be happy and pregnant with my husband’s child now if Ewan Daniels hadn’t come into our lives?

  Just before dawn, my exhausted mind stopped torturing me and I fell into a heavy sleep. But even as my body forced me to rest, the anguish of my situation followed me down into my dreams. I imagined that Ewan had showed up, but late, and all was well as he took me back to the apartment he promised we’d share. It was very similar to the one in Hammersmith, but as I walked around the layout and decor changed and it became the apartment I shared with Tom. Only this one had bars on the windows.

  What’s with the bars? I asked Ewan, but as I turned to face him, I found Tom staring at me. His face was flushed with rage.

  It’s to keep you in, you two-timing bitch, Tom said.

  ***

  I jerked awake and tried to remember where I was. I turned my head to look over at Tom’s side of the bed, but found he’d gone. I picked up my phone and glanced at it. It was 9.33 a.m. I was surprised that Tom’s departure for work hadn’t woken me.

  Pushing back the duvet, I sat up and turned my legs over the edge of the bed. Then I dropped my head into my hands as a wave of sleep-deprived nausea swirled up into my stomach. When the feeling subsided, I forced myself to stand and tottered into the bathroom.

  I glanced down at the toilet bowl and saw a scatter of pills in the water. I looked around and then saw my contraceptive pill box and packet, empty and in the small bin under the sink.

  I flushed the toilet.

  In the kitchen I found a Post-it note from Tom listing today’s errands. One of which was to meet Isadora for lunch in Mayfair. I scanned the note. Tom’s words and phrases jumped out at me randomly and made no sense at all.

  Look your best … buy new lingerie … the laundry needs doing …