Samantha Lee Howe - The Stranger in Our Bed

Of course, I didn’t mind Isadora’s detailed planning of our special day, down to who would be bridesmaids – wives of important people in their world, because I had no sisters or cousins to fit the bill. I’d been an only child, long since orphaned, and Isadora’s attentions pleased me at first. She became my surrogate mother, even though I was fully aware that everything she did was not for my sake, but for Tom’s.

After the wedding, Isadora started to ask about grandchildren. We avoided it for the first few years, telling her we had to find our feet, that Tom’s long working hours would mean he’d have no time for me, let alone a new baby.

When I turned 30 we ran out of excuses.

‘Everyone else in your peer group has children, Charlotte dear,’ Isadora had said. ‘Don’t you think it’s time?’

She always called me ‘Charlotte dear’ when she wanted to manipulate me in some way. I knew what she was doing but didn’t really mind. I’d learnt early on that Isadora always got her way and it sometimes wasn’t worth the argument.

‘It’s not easy when Tom works so hard, comes back home late and tired,’ I had said. ‘But, I’ll talk to him on our anniversary trip. Who knows, we may well start there!’

Isadora had been pleased that we were ‘potentially’ on the way to parenthood and I had effectively appeased my mother-in-law again. I don’t know what it was, but I wasn’t that concerned about having children. I enjoyed our life as it was – maybe that was selfish of me. But we had everything that money could buy and I loved to travel. I knew that babies would limit our freedom, perhaps even change our relationship. I’d seen that happen too many times with some of the other corporate wives.

‘I hope you’re feeling frisky. Your mother wants grandkids!’ I had told Tom.

Tom had laughed, but never took it too seriously: he only wanted me to come home to and had no immediate desire to be a father. That was why it had surprised me when he told me to stop taking my contraceptives before our trip to Iceland.

I guessed, in the end, Isadora had applied enough pressure on him too.

Two months after the miscarriage my life resumed its normal pattern. Even the wives of Tom’s colleagues stopped asking me how I felt. I was able now to meet them for lunch and I had resumed my gym sessions, carefully, after six weeks.

To avoid a pregnancy too soon, I had restarted my contraceptives. Tom and I fell back into our life as if nothing had happened. I didn’t fall back into my usual pattern with Isadora though. I felt different about her. Perhaps I even blamed her for my current unhappiness. Our regular lunch dates stopped and I only met up with her when I had to.

Even so, I wasn’t feeling myself. I couldn’t put my finger on the problem, but a lot of what Isadora said or did irritated me more than usual. I had less patience and I found myself feeling sad a lot – not a usual thing for me at all. Life was boring me a little too. The days dragged on and I had no inclination to return to the way things were before. I began to feel that I couldn’t really talk to Tom about my feelings. I thought he’d misunderstand, or think I was ungrateful when he had given me such a lovely life. These thoughts and feelings wouldn’t shift; they continued to mutate and grow until the only thing I knew for sure was that I was lonely.

I suppose I was beginning to feel dissatisfied, despite what I had.

‘Perhaps you should see someone,’ Tom said one evening, observing my low mood.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘If it’s the loss of the baby,’ he said, ‘I’m still feeling sad too.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. But, I’m fine, darling. Really,’ I lied.

Then I distracted him by changing the subject to his day.

While he was talking, I considered my situation. Was I sad because of the baby? No. Was I happy in my marriage. Mostly. Why did I have this overwhelming sense of isolation that made me somehow dread the future?

I nodded and smiled at Tom as he talked about Carlisle Corp, but my mind wandered.

Later when we went to bed, I let him make love to me, but my mind was still elsewhere. I found myself thinking about Ewan Daniels, wondering what he was doing. I hadn’t seen him since the day of the accident and it hadn’t even occurred to me to contact him.

Tom grunted and came inside me. As he rolled away, I turned over and lay with my back to him. I didn’t want him to see the expression on my face – even though the light was off and the room was dark.

Unable to avoid her any longer, I met Isadora at her favourite restaurant in Mayfair. I arrived early, as she had asked, before the charity committee members and other wives joined us.

‘I wanted to show you the menu I’ve selected for the benefit,’ she said. ‘That way you’ll be informed when we discuss it.’

We sat in the bar, a glass of slimline tonic water each. She didn’t ask me how I was or why I’d been unavailable the last few weeks. Instead Isadora presented me with a beautifully printed menu of fine cuisine. I read through it, finding a lot of it pretentious, but said nothing. What was the point? She would only shoot me down with her better knowledge and experience of these things. Over the years I’d learnt that my silence was the best way of keeping the peace between us.

Just then the others began to arrive.

‘Charlotte, this is Clarissa May, the director of the charity, and her assistant, Barbara. Ah and here is the lovely Gillian to take notes for Carlisle Corp. She’s Tom’s PA and we have her on loan today.’

I’d met Gillian several times before then. Even so, I didn’t enlighten Isadora. I shook hands with them all and more women arrived – all dressed to kill.

We sat at a large round table and were served beautiful food at the cost of Carlisle Corp.

‘Emelia,’ Isadora asked. ‘You have a meeting with the florist today, don’t you? You’re still okay with the centre pieces?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Emelia and then her phone rang. ‘Sorry. Must take this.’

Emelia left the table then returned a few moments later, her face pale.

‘I’m so sorry. I’ll have to leave and cancel the florist,’ Emelia looked flustered.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Isadora.

‘That was my son’s school. He’s taken ill and the nanny is off today.’

‘Of course you must go,’ I said. ‘And please don’t worry. I’ll go to the florists and pick out the centre pieces. After all, I’m running this benefit, aren’t I?’

I glanced at Isadora and smiled.

‘Well … of course,’ said Isadora. ‘If you’re feeling up to—’

‘I’m fine. I’ll walk out with Emelia and get the florist appointment details.’

‘She’s not just like you in looks …’ said one of the women behind me.

‘What do you mean, “in looks”?’ Isadora asked.

‘Well. Look at her. She could be your real daughter. She’s a younger you for certain.’

I glanced back over my shoulder to see, for the first time, a very shocked expression on Isadora’s face. We had often been taken for mother and daughter, and I put it down to the fact that we both had blonde hair and blue eyes.

When I returned and sat down, Isadora leaned in to me and said, ‘I’ll go to the florists. I know what I’m looking for.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘You do quite enough already. Besides, Emelia told me what was needed.’

Isadora frowned with annoyance.

Did she think I was too stupid to even choose flowers without assistance?

‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘But call me if you’re uncertain of anything.’

‘I can order some flowers without messing it up,’ I said.