Samantha Lee Howe - The Stranger in Our Bed

And then it really sank in. I was growing tired of not being listened to. The only trouble was, I couldn’t blame Isadora or Tom for any of it. I had caused this by not standing up for myself when it was too easy to just accept another person’s decision.

Like the bedding I’d bought months ago that had caused such a row the night before. I couldn’t make any sense of Tom’s angry outburst. It was so over the top and out of character. Tom was usually so calm.

I asked Isadora to leave me, explaining that I didn’t feel too well. She was sympathetic, but still took it upon herself to call Tom and confirm his suspicions. I couldn’t hear everything he said to her on her mobile phone, but I heard the pleasure and excitement in his voice.

‘We’re so happy,’ Isadora said before leaving. ‘Rest up, Charlotte dear. The morning sickness won’t last long. I’ll get you booked in with a private doctor as soon as possible.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

She let herself out and I went back to bed and lay, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. They would control every decision that needed to be made as they always had.

***

By the afternoon, the initial sickness abated and I got up, dressed and went out. I was sick of being predictable. I thought I ought to at least start to put things into place that I wanted to happen. This child might be a Carlisle but it was also my child and I would have a say. I don’t know what came over me.

I found a note on the kitchen notice board from Tom, reminding me to return the purple satin bedding that he’d disliked so much. At least that would give me something to do. I folded the bed linen neatly, squeezing them back into the original packaging. There was no need to search out the receipt, my account would show the purchase, and so I placed all of the items into a large canvas bag.

I didn’t feel like travelling on the tube with all of these things just in case the sickness returned, so I took a cab to Harrods.

‘Morning Mrs Carlisle,’ the store doorman said. ‘Let me get someone to help you with that …’

A few moments later two shop assistants arrived and took the bag from me.

‘I’m afraid I have to return this,’ I told the first assistant, a different girl to the one who had originally served me. ‘My husband … doesn’t like it.’

She processed the refund without protest. I was a good customer in the store, and so was my mother-in-law. As I waited for the refund receipt, I felt the hairs prickle on the back of my neck. I turned around with a feeling of déjà vu . A tall man stood behind me, so close I could reach out and touch him. It was Ewan Daniels. A shiver of something like excitement ran along my spine, as if I had been waiting for him to appear.

‘Charlotte,’ he said, as though my presence there surprised him. ‘I thought I might never see you again …’

That was the third time I’d met Ewan by accident; it appeared it was becoming a habit.

We went for coffee in a local café.

Ewan looked well, but I was sure I didn’t look very good at all. I hadn’t bothered with make-up or made the usual effort I made whenever I went shopping – just in case I bumped into one of the other wives, or Isadora’s friends.

‘I’ve often thought of you since our meal out,’ Ewan said.

I smiled but didn’t admit that I had thought about him too. More often than I should have. He was not as handsome as Tom, but Ewan had a boyish charm that was attractive. There was something very unassuming and modest about the man. His colouring was the opposite of Tom’s; Ewan had sandy blond hair and blue eyes, and Tom was dark-haired with brown eyes. They couldn’t have been more different in looks and personality. But I found myself liking Ewan, far more than a married woman should like another man.

For that reason, I still held a residual guilt about our previous meeting.

‘How are you doing?’ Ewan asked. ‘Was the rest of your trip successful?’

Successful , for a holiday, was an odd thing to say but I caught his meaning.

‘Yes. We had fun,’ I said. ‘The northern lights were lovely.’

Ewan nodded. ‘And your husband enjoyed it too?’

‘I think so. Tom … finds it difficult to switch off sometimes. From work I mean. But yes, he enjoyed the trip.’

Ewan smiled. ‘That’s good then.’

I sipped my coffee to hide a moment of awkwardness at discussing Tom with Ewan.

‘I’m glad I was able to keep you company before he arrived that day,’ Ewan said.

At his words I had a flash of memory about our previous meetings.

Ewan had been in Harrods the day I found the purple satin bedding. We’d struck up a conversation and he’d bought the same bedding. A few days later I found myself in his company in Reykjavik. I’d let him take me to dinner because Tom had been delayed by a problem at work and had yet to join me in Iceland.

I’d thought it quite a coincidence meeting the man again, but he had been kind, and his behaviour offered friendship and nothing more and so I’d agreed.

I took a sip of coffee now with a shaking hand. As I caught his eye I found myself talking, my words falling out in a rush. At that moment I understood just how much I needed a friend. ‘It was very nice of you,’ I said. ‘I was quite … lonely.’

I burst into tears then. I couldn’t believe I had admitted to a virtual stranger that I felt this way. It was unfathomable and embarrassing. Ewan, far from being surprised or shocked, took my hand and held it. He handed me a linen handkerchief from his pocket, and I mopped up the flow of tears with a sigh of utter exhaustion.

‘Would you like to talk about it?’ he asked when I finally fell quiet.

‘It’s silly. Probably hormones. You see, I just found out that I’m pregnant.’

‘And this is a surprise?’

‘It shouldn’t be. We were, sort of , trying. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I mean, it seems to take other people months.’

‘That’s usually the way when you aren’t ready,’ Ewan said.

For the first time I began to wonder about Ewan’s age. He appeared to be only a few years my senior, yet spoke so wisely, more than his thirty-something years might suggest. He was right, of course, I didn’t feel ready to be a mother. And, despite my protestations that this was probably just hormones, I was often lonely. I had everything I could possibly want, and yet I lacked something .

As we sat and talked, I felt happier than I had done in years. He talked to me as if I was his equal, someone whose opinions were important. A feeling I didn’t always have in my marriage. The afternoon passed by too quickly and I realized that I needed time to get home to make dinner for Tom. He would possibly want to celebrate with champagne – though I couldn’t have any now – and some form of romantic, robust dinner.

‘I have to go,’ I said to Ewan, ‘but thank you for being so kind.’

‘Take my number,’ he said. ‘That way, if you need a friend to talk to who isn’t judgemental, you’ll have one.’

I was about to refuse, but his warm smile – and his genuine compassion – made me pause. I found myself pulling my mobile out of my handbag. There was something so appealing about his offer of unconditional friendship and the way he looked at me, with an honest and open expression, which made me consider he probably was the only one in the world I could talk to. The guilt came again. I shouldn’t think this about anyone other than Tom. What was wrong with me?

‘Okay, what’s the number?’

I sent him a text so that he could store my number as well.

‘I really have to go …’