The lift opened on the fifth floor and a rough-looking man got inside. I kept my eyes down, but noticed he was wearing battered brogues under mud-splattered jeans. As the door opened on sixth I hurried out without making eye contact.
My behaviour was suspicious, but I really didn’t know how to act in this situation. Over the last few months of my affair with Ewan, I had always been able to visit him unobserved.
I reached Ewan’s door and knocked. I glanced down the corridor and saw the man who had been in the lift with me standing by the door of the room next door. He opened the door and went inside without looking at me.
Ewan’s door opened a second later.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Come inside,’ he said, poking his head out of the door and looking down the corridor. ‘Did anyone see you?’
I shook my head. ‘Not anyone important. There was a guy in the lift. But … why here?’
He closed the door and pulled me into his arms. I hugged him and then we were kissing. But instead of moving to the bed, Ewan pulled back and took a step away from me, arms dropping to his sides.
‘Charlotte,’ he said, ‘perhaps you need to sit down.’
I perched on the edge of the bed and looked at him. My heart sank. This was the moment I had been dreading; the end of our affair. He didn’t want to see me anymore.
I envisioned my life without him and my stomach turned. I decided to be brave and face it head on, because there was no point in doing this in an undignified way. I didn’t want to ruin all of the happy memories he had given me by begging him to stay with me.
‘Why aren’t we at Hammersmith?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t you want a scene at your home? Only, I’m not going to cause a scene …’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I guess this is the moment you tell me it’s over.’
‘Oh my god, no,’ he smiled. That lovely disarming charm came out so easily. ‘I don’t want us to stop, Charlotte.’
A huge sigh escaped my lips as I let go of the breath I’d been holding.
‘But things have changed. And I’ve been thinking for a while that we have to resolve our problems.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I love you. Don’t you know that?’
He had never used those words before, and I was overwhelmed with emotion. Partly it was relief from the doubts that had crept in from the moment he changed our meeting place, but also I now realized how much I wanted – no needed – to hear these words from him.
I pulled him down to sit on the edge of the bed with me.
‘I hate to just say this as it sounds like an automatic response. But I’m in love with you, Ewan. And I didn’t know if I should ever say it.’
He held my hand in response.
I didn’t add all of those corny lines about never having felt like this before, because that was untrue. I had been in love with Tom once, though maybe it wasn’t as passionate or as intense as this.
‘What’s going on?’ I said. ‘Your text said you needed to talk to me.’
‘I wanted to tell you how I felt. Feel. I wanted you to know, no matter what happens. I love you. I really love you, Charlotte.’
I frowned, still waiting for some heartbreaking punch line. The blow didn’t come though. Instead Ewan began to kiss me. It was serious kissing, not like the fun, relaxed warm kisses we’d shared before. It was as though he was trying to show me the depth of his feelings.
I stopped worrying about it when his hand ran over my breast and my nipple and my body responded to him. I sank into his arms letting the moment wash over me.
***
‘I want you to leave him,’ Ewan said afterwards as we lay naked in the hotel bed.
I was quiet, not sure what to respond. My imagination ran over and over this scenario in my head. I saw myself going back home and packing. I thought about Tom’s reaction and Isadora’s distain. Then, I thought about a life with Ewan, a life I knew little about, one that was both frightening and exhilarating.
‘I’m serious,’ he said when I didn’t answer. ‘I love you and I can’t continue like this. We need to be together. You need to get away from … him.’
‘I hate the lies,’ I said.
‘Me too. And there is still so much I need to tell you.’
‘Like what?’
‘Now’s not the time, darling. But you’ll know everything once we are together permanently. Just believe me when I say, ever since we met you have been under my skin.’
His words concerned me a little. Ewan had never been this sincere or intense. But all I focused on was the idea of a future with him. The idea of the end to the lies, of making this permanent between us. I should have played harder to get but I couldn’t. I wanted to be with him, and didn’t want to keep hurting Tom. The decision had to be made, however spontaneous it seemed. I believed that Ewan would not be the kind of husband or partner who wouldn’t have to control my every move. I couldn’t help thinking what a relief it would be to be away from Carlisle control – especially Isadora.
‘If we are to do this,’ I said, ‘I need to plan. I can’t just … leave.’
Ewan was silent then. Maybe he thought I was trying to avoid the issue by half agreement.
‘I need to make plans too, get us a home first. We need to be away from here.’
‘But … Hammersmith?’ I said.
‘It was leased. Only short term and the owners are now back.’
I took this information in, wondering what else Ewan was going to tell me.
‘But don’t worry, darling. The lease was a convenience thing. I didn’t want to own anywhere after my wife died and I sold my old place – there were too many memories. You understand? But we’ll find somewhere together. I’ll get another lease in the meantime and then we can—’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘It honestly never occurred to me,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter. I know we don’t talk about these things, but I can look after you, Charlotte. You can walk away with nothing and I’ll provide for you. I have money. Enough for us to start a new life. Buy our own house … You don’t need Tom.’
His words were reassuring, and I sank into him as he told me his plans.
‘No more time apart. When I go away on my trips, you’ll come with me. But we’ll have a permanent base too. It’s all going to work out. I have a few things to do first, but I don’t want to drag this out. Let’s say Monday. Leave him on Monday and meet me at Harrods. Then I’ll take you to my new place and we’ll begin our life properly together.’
I couldn’t believe how things had changed from one day to the next. It was sudden, but it wasn’t when you looked back and saw the development of our relationship. This was where we’d been heading from the day we first met. I realized then that I had been waiting for an escape route for a long time and I wasn’t about to miss my chance.
‘I have to go away for work again for a couple of days, but I’ve already put in an application for a new apartment which should be through by the weekend. It’ll do us until we find what we want together.’
I left him then, hurrying back to what had become my ‘pretend’ life, knowing that I would soon have a ‘real’ one with no hidden secrets. The idea of being able to spend the whole night in bed with Ewan, watching television together, as we had on occasion at the Hammersmith flat, was all a dream come true.
I knew it was insane – giving up my fairytale life for someone I hardly knew – but I couldn’t help it. I loved Ewan and for the first time in my life I could be the real me. Not some trophy wife. I focused on all of these thoughts even as the fear and doubts crept in. I had to make this decision for once and all. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying.
Chapter Fourteen
As usual Ewan kept in touch while he was away. We spoke every day and he confirmed that the flat was almost ours.
‘My period came early,’ I told Tom when he tried to make love to me.
<
br /> I had my own bank accounts and some savings. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough until Ewan and I worked things out. Ewan hadn’t mentioned marriage – but I assumed it would be on the cards as soon as I could free myself from Tom, and I decided that I would do that with as little drama as possible. I planned to meet with a lawyer to start the proceedings for a divorce as soon as I left. Until then, I didn’t want to risk Tom finding out before I was able to tell him myself that it was over.
On the Sunday evening I made dinner for Tom and prepared to break the news. I poured us a drink with a shaking hand and then sat opposite him as he ate, wondering if this would be our last supper. I had made his favourite food: fillet steak, some mashed potato and grilled mushrooms smeared with garlic butter.
Ewan had texted me confirming the time we were to meet. It was real. It was happening and my marriage was over.
I remembered our happiest moments; our wedding day; St Moritz for a perfect honeymoon; laughter on our trip to see the northern lights. With our history it was difficult to see how things had gone so wrong. But then I remembered the darker times. Tom’s moody days when he was stressed about the company; Isadora’s controlling behaviour; the feeling that I never had control and had to be prefect in order to please everyone.
‘Tom,’ I said. ‘I have something to tell you.’
I picked up my wine; my trembling hands were slick with sweat. I almost dropped the glass but managed to pull it to my lips and take a long swig before placing it down on the coaster by my untouched dinner plate.
Tom sat back in his chair and studied me. His eyes narrowed. I looked away.
‘I’ve met someone else. I’m leaving in the morning. I understand completely that I deserve nothing from you. I’ll make it easy for you and will agree to being named on the papers for a quick divorce.’
Tom’s face was white, his eyes suddenly dark with anger.
It was cruel, though I was trying to be honest.
‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ he said.
His voice was colder, and I couldn’t suppress the shudder that rippled up my back as I looked up at him, finally meeting his gaze.
‘No, Tom. I’m sorry. This just … happened. I met someone else and I love him.’
I almost said, it’s not you, it’s me, but then I stopped myself.
‘I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the life you wanted but … it wasn’t what I wanted either.’
‘Shut up!’ he said.
‘Tom. I’m—’
‘Don’t say another word … You fucking bitch. You’ve been having an affair? And just like that you’re in love and you’re fucking leaving?’
I didn’t deny it; I deserved his hatred. What could I say? These two sentences summed up everything.
‘How long?’ he asked.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘How long have you been fucking someone else?’
‘I’ll leave now,’ I said. ‘I wanted to be fair and honest—’
‘Honest? You were sleeping around behind my back … and then coming back to my bed. That was really honest, Charlotte—’
‘You deserved the truth …’
‘Get out of my sight. I can’t bear to look at you,’ he said.
I knew he was right. There was nothing I could say.
I had already packed my bags and stowed them in the guest bedroom. I stood up and left the dining room, then went to the guest room and closed the door. I hadn’t planned to leave until the next day. But it was obvious that I couldn’t stay the night here now.
Then I heard the front door of the apartment slam shut.
I opened the guest room door and looked out into the hallway. Tom had left and I was relieved. I wasn’t sure we could have ‘talked anything out’, even though I knew it would probably have been the best thing to do for his sake.
My phone beeped. I fished it out of my handbag to see the message.
I won’t be home again tonight. Be gone before I get back. Tom
Chapter Fifteen
Where are you?
My text went unanswered the next day.
I had never yet known Ewan to arrive late. Wherever we met he was always there waiting for me.
It started to rain. I huddled under one of the window canopies outside Harrods. Then I sent Ewan a text telling him I’d wait in the coffee shop. I carried my handbag and one suitcase, containing all of my basic needs, to our meeting place and found a seat near the window.
My heart was in my mouth as I ordered my usual latte. Where was Ewan? Was there some miscommunication? I was sure he said meet at Harrods. I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. He hadn’t replied, nor had he read the last message I’d sent, though it showed as ‘Delivered’.
I pulled up his contact details and pressed dial. The phone didn’t ring, it merely cut off. I checked my phone signal and noted my reception was bad. Then I looked again at the last few messages on the chain. Perhaps he was on the tube and couldn’t send or receive?
An hour over the agreed time, with the dregs of my cold coffee sitting before me, I was growing increasingly worried.
‘Where are you?’ I murmured. All kinds of scenarios went through my head. Had he been in an accident? Should I call the local hospital? What if he never came?
I dialled his number again. This time a voice mail picked up, and I was about to speak and leave a message when a female voice said, ‘The number you have called is not recognized. Please check and dial again.’
I disconnected the call and stared at the screen. My stomach turned with rising panic as I opened up the server on my phone. My mouth was dry as I googled the business where Ewan told me he worked. The number came up and I pressed call. After a few rings, the call was answered.
‘Bartle, Birling and Daniels,’ said the telephonist.
‘I’d like to speak to Mr Ewan Daniels please,’ I said.
There was a moment’s pause. ‘I’m sorry we don’t have anyone here by that name,’ said the girl on the other end of the phone.
‘He’s one of your partners …’ My voice sounded uncertain. ‘Mr Daniels.’
‘Oh,’ said the girl. ‘There is no Mr Daniels. He passed away last year with a brain tumour.’
My blood turned cold.
‘A brain tumour?’ I said. ‘Sorry. I must have the wrong number.’
I hung up and slumped back in my chair. I glanced around the coffee shop feeling as though everyone there knew the terrible mistake I’d made. Was it merely a coincidence that the partner in Ewan’s firm had died a year ago of a brain tumour? The same thing that had supposedly killed Ewan’s wife?
His voice echoed in my ears.
No matter what happens. I love you. I really love you, Charlotte.
I lurched to my feet, spilling my coffee cup onto the floor. Faces turned to stare at me as I bent to pick it up. One of the baristas came out from behind the counter, a mop and bucket in her hand.
‘Are you okay?’ she said.
I shook my head. Then grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. Without a word I pulled the suitcase behind me and exited the shop.
I stumbled out into the street. My mind kept going over his final words:
No matter what happens.
I took a cab over to the Hammersmith address. There was nothing else I could do. It was late afternoon and I had nowhere else to go. I had to find Ewan or at least talk to the people who had rented the flat to him. By that time, I was beginning to think this was all some scam, some figment of my overactive imagination. But I wanted to believe there was just some terrible confusion on mine or Ewan’s part about the date and time we were supposed to meet. But that couldn’t be true: we only spoke last night. Plus, Ewan had always answered his phone before. Now he wasn’t answering. Had he lost it? Or had something serious happened to him? All these thoughts and excuses ran through my head, anything other than the possibility that he didn’t want to meet me. It was difficult to digest even though it was obvious: why would
someone make me believe they loved me and then just leave me like this? I couldn’t reconcile the thought of such a cruel person with the man I thought I knew.
I paid the cab and let him go. Then I walked into the reception of the building that I had visited regularly two or three times a week since our affair had begun.
The reception was as I remembered, though part of me was convinced that it would be different.
On the third floor a thirty-something woman answered Ewan’s door.
‘I’m looking for Ewan Daniels,’ I said. I was ready for anything now. Maybe this girl was his girlfriend. Maybe he had lied about being single.
‘I’m sorry. You’ve got the wrong address.’
‘He was your previous tenant? While you were away,’ I said trying to remember what Ewan had told me about the owners of the flat.
‘Tenant?’ said the woman. ‘I’ve never leased out my apartment.’
‘But he lived here,’ I said. ‘I came here regularly. I can even describe your bathroom …’
The girl took a step back. ‘Look. No one has access to my apartment but me and my boyfriend.’
I took a breath and then I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Can I see a picture of your boyfriend?’
The girl frowned, then retrieved her phone from her pocket and showed me her screensaver. She didn’t have to do it, but perhaps she suspected him of being unfaithful.
I stared at the photo. It was a man in his thirties, sporting that unshaven look that was so popular. There was something so ordinary about him that he looked vaguely familiar. The sort of person you would see loitering outside a shop and maybe not even notice.
‘Is that him?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s not.’
‘You might have the wrong apartment,’ she said. But glancing over her shoulder I knew I didn’t: the furniture was exactly the same.
I didn’t know what to do.
‘Look. I don’t know what’s going on. But I was here.’
‘I’ve lived here for six years and I’m telling you that’s not possible.’
She closed the door and I stood there for a few moments. How had Ewan used her apartment without her knowledge? It wasn’t possible. Was I mistaken?
The Stranger in Our Bed: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller that will keep you hooked Page 7
