‘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 …’
‘Goodbye for now, Charlotte,’ he said. He stood as I did, and then gave me a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek.
I was a little shy about the contact, but thanked him again to cover any awkwardness, then I left the coffee shop and hurried out into the busy London streets.
It was rush hour and therefore the worst time of day to find a taxi or to travel quickly by tube. Even so, I hurried towards the nearest tube station just as it started to rain. A real summer downpour. I didn’t have an umbrella with me, and my hair was soaked in seconds. The water dripped down into my eyes. I faltered a little as I joined a large group of tourists waiting for the traffic lights to change. Thoughts of Ewan leaning closer and kissing me, the warmth of his smile, all brought a shiver to my spine. The pavement was too crowded, and most of the people, as is always the case in London city centre, appeared to be in a massive hurry.
As soon as the lights changed the crowd surged forwards. The first wave of people rushed across the road.
I don’t know what happened. One minute I was about to step off the pavement the next I was being jostled. I lost my footing, stumbled, and time seemed to slow down. I saw a bird fly overhead, a pigeon wheeling in the sky as though it were about to dive in a suicidal swoop towards the ground. Horns blared. I heard a female voice cry out. And then – a hand pressed into my back. As though someone had reached out to stop me, or perhaps also lost their footing, and then I fell forwards, unable to stop myself – right into the bus lane.
Chapter Three
‘Charlotte?’
A rush of sound filled my ears, like air whipping through the branches of a tree. A screech of brakes. Then I heard Tom’s angry voice, ‘What the fuck is this, Char?’
I opened my eyes and looked up into Isadora’s concerned face.
‘Tom! Quickly! She’s awake!’
Tom’s face came into blurred view. He had a deep frown on his normally smooth brow.
‘Char. Darling …’
‘Where am I?’ I croaked.
I felt as though I’d been in a serious battle with a heavyweight boxer. I had another flash – a memory – of Tom’s flustered, angry face as he had stared at the sheets in my hands. I don’t understand why you’re so cross. It’s just new bedding!
‘Have some water,’ Isadora offered, and before I could agree or refuse a straw was pushed into my mouth. ‘You’re in A & E.’
I sipped the water and it did ease my throat.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
I was in some kind of booth with a curtain drawn around us.
‘You were … you had an accident,’ Tom said. ‘You fell. In front of a bus.’
I had another flashback then, of the double-decker tourist bus, brakes screeching, as it careered towards me. I shuddered. I didn’t remember the vehicle hitting me or anything else after that moment. Just this sense of freefalling as I fell onto the road. I remember getting back up off the ground seconds before the bus hit me. I was thrown aside, cracking my head on the kerb.
‘You were lucky,’ said Isadora.
‘Lucky?’ said Tom. ‘What on earth were you doing crossing the road like that?’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘A witness said you just ran out. Without looking,’ Tom said.
‘No. That isn’t what happened. I walked out, with a group of people. One of them … jostled me. Or maybe they tripped and pushed me …’
‘You’re saying someone pushed you?’ asked Tom, and there was something about his expression that made me go quiet for a moment. I thought it through and decided I couldn’t be sure what had actually happened and so it was best not to commit.
‘No … It was raining. I slipped, stupid high heels I guess. Then, I got up and the bus—’
‘It’s okay, dear,’ said Isadora. ‘Rest up.’
‘Am I … injured?’ I asked.
‘The doctor says you have concussion. You’ll have to stay in overnight,’ Tom said.
‘But … the baby?’
‘That’s all okay, dear,’ Isadora said.
I closed my eyes tight. Tears leaked out of the corners anyway.
‘There, there. It’s all going to be okay. But you’ll have to be careful for a few days,’ Isadora cooed.
I drifted back to sleep as their voices floated down with me.
‘You see,’ said Isadora. ‘What a silly thing to assume she did it on purpose.’
‘Yes, Mother. It’s just … a witness told the police.’
I awoke in a white room, disorientated and scared. And then I realized I must have been moved from the A & E department. I looked to my left, saw the mandatory monitors. I wasn’t hooked up to anything though. I raised my hand to my face; I had the headache of all headaches.
I’d hit the floor on this side and my arm had borne the brunt of my weight: it was a mass of bruises. Yes, I’d been lucky. This could have been so much worse. At least I hadn’t broken anything. I put my hand on my stomach. Was the baby really okay?
I tried to sit up, but the headache brought on a bout of nausea. I looked around for a receptacle of any kind; instead I found the nurse’s call button. I pressed it, swallowing back bile and gagging on it.
A nurse hurried in; she reached for a paper bowl, helped me sit and held it under my chin. I vomited until my stomach wrenched.
When the nausea passed, I flopped back down on the bed.
‘It’s normal in your condition,’ said the nurse. ‘Plus with a head injury like that …’
My throat seized up and I couldn’t talk.
‘Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands. Your husband moved you here to recuperate. Got to look after your precious cargo after all!’
I learnt that I had been moved to a private hospital. It seemed impossible that I had been so unconscious that I hadn’t realized, but it had happened and now I was being looked after with the best possible attention.
The doctor came in.
‘All is well, Mrs Carlisle, with your pregnancy. But that head injury was quite severe. Hence why we are looking after you for a few days.’
‘A few days?’ I queried. ‘The A & E doctor said I only neede
d an overnight stay.’
‘Well, I’m a specialist in this area. I feel we need to monitor you longer.’
Like the other controlling elements in my life, the doctor shot me down with his better knowledge.
I woke up three days later and opened the window to look out on the grounds. I was stronger today, ready to return home and escape the watchful eyes of the nurse. I had barely been permitted to walk to the en suite bathroom without a nurse beside me over the past few days. But gradually the head injury had improved. I was eating better now and even the morning sickness had subsided.
The nurse had told me to eat something in the mornings before I got out of bed and it had helped.
When the doctor entered my room, I was waiting for him. ‘I’m ready to go home today,’ I said.
He wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘No,’ he replied.
I frowned. ‘Why? I’m perfectly well enough. The scan on my head was clear—’
‘Your husband and mother-in-law would like you to remain. To make sure—’
‘To make sure of what?’ I asked.
The doctor smiled. ‘Soon, Mrs Carlisle. We have to make sure that there have been no adverse effects on the baby.’
***
Five days had passed since my arrival and I was beginning to feel paranoid and suspicious. After breakfast I was alone in my room reading, wondering what Tom was doing with his day. He and Isadora had visited me regularly, but I felt distant from them. It was probably a hangover from the head injury. I resented them both, and their decision-making that never took what I wanted into consideration. I still hadn’t got a sensible answer from the doctor about my condition. He often said, ‘I’ll explain this to your husband,’ or, ‘your mother-in-law would like you to rest.’ It was as though I was being held prisoner – maybe until my baby was delivered safely. A ridiculous thought, but one I couldn’t ignore. As I turned to the next page of the book I couldn’t remember the previous pages I’d read: my mind unable to focus on the words. I put the paperback down beside me on a small table by the chair. I was frustrated and bored. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever leave this place when there was a sharp knock at my door and the nurse entered.
‘Your husband is collecting you today,’ she said with a smile. ‘I expect you’ll be glad to go home.’
I felt a rush of relief as my phobia abated. I stood up, bumping the table and the book fell to the floor. I bent to retrieve it. My palms felt suddenly sticky, as another odd feeling took over, something akin to agoraphobia. The hospital room had become a buffer to my ordinary life. Now I’d have to return to it, and to Tom and especially to Isadora.
‘Perhaps I should stay on another day …’ I said with a shaky laugh.
‘Yes,’ she laughed too, but it sounded forced. ‘It’s a bit like living in a five-star hotel this place, isn’t it?’
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but knew that this hospital had every luxury a private hospital could have.
Tom arrived with his chauffeur, Stefan, and I was pushed out to the limo in a wheelchair, even though I told them I was fine to walk.
‘Stop being stubborn,’ Tom said. ‘We’re looking after you. You deserve it.’
The idea of further argument exhausted me and I fell silent and let them help me into the back of the car as if I was an invalid.
‘How’s your head feeling?’ Tom asked once we were both in the limo.
‘I’m fine. Really. Please don’t worry.’
He took my hand and kissed my fingers. ‘I’m so glad we can finally take you home. I’ve been so worried about you.’
Isadora had hired a home help, a young Polish girl to help clean and do all of the cooking for me. I was not to do anything until I was fully recovered.
‘And anyway,’ she said, ‘I never understood why you wanted to clean your own house. It ruins your fingernails and spoils your hands.’
‘I like cleaning,’ I said. ‘It’s part of my fitness regime.’
‘Well, there’s none of that nonsense for now,’ said Isadora. ‘After the baby comes … well there will be plenty of time to get back into shape. I’ll find you a trainer when the time is right.’
She didn’t see me roll my eyes.
Chapter Four
I was dreaming of swimming, gliding serenely through a warm lake. The shore ahead, the aqua blue sky reflected above. Then I felt that first fatal cramp. The pain struck so deeply through my core – a white hot pain. Sheer agony, as the dream faded and changed. I was drowning now, my limbs like lead, holding me down as I sank like a heavy rock to the bottom of the ocean.
‘Char … Char, wake up!’
I opened my eyes. Tom was staring into my face with a look of concern.
‘It was just a nightmare,’ I said.
‘You were crying out.’
He sat up, moved away, and I pulled myself into a sitting position. Then, thinking I needed the bathroom, I pushed back the covers. The white sheets glared red. The whole lower half of my body was covered in blood. I tried to calm my breathing, but the room began to spin as I realized what this macabre sight might mean.
‘Oh my god!’ Tom said.
I was vaguely aware of him rushing across the room and picking up his phone. Swearing as he pressed three numbers.
‘I need an ambulance,’ he said.
***
I was bundled onto a trolley after they mopped up the mess. I knew without looking that the mattress had to be ruined, just as the white bedding most certainly was. Just as my life was. It crossed my mind that the purple satin set wouldn’t have shown the damage so boldly. And then it occurred to me that this was a strange moment to think of that bedding. I should instead have been thinking about my baby.
Much to the excitement of our neighbours, I was wheeled into the back of the ambulance.
‘I’ll follow in my car,’ said Tom, as they hooked me up to an IV and placed monitors on my heart.
When they closed the doors on him, to continue their work in peace, one of the paramedics, a woman with kind eyes, said, ‘It’s already too late. I’m afraid the baby is gone. Normally we wouldn’t take you in for that. But your husband is very concerned about you due to your accident.’
I closed my eyes and felt tears running down my face. I didn’t know why. Was it sadness for the loss of this tiny, yet unformed thing inside me? Or was it relief?
‘The pregnancy may not have been viable to begin with,’ the doctor said. ‘It happens sometimes with a first one. Like a trial run.’
‘But the accident?’ Tom said.
Why oh why did he keep labouring this? Didn’t he realize I felt bad enough?
‘I doubt it was responsible, but it’s possible. Most pregnancies are robust. They can withstand all sorts of trauma. That’s how the human race has survived through the worst periods of our history. Your wife will be fine. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have another healthy pregnancy in a few months’ time. But for now, I think she needs rest.’
I lay in the bed, Isadora holding my hand, as these two men talked about me as though I wasn’t present, or capable of understanding anything. But it was only later, when I realized things had to change or else I would lose my sanity, that I looked back and remembered all of this with clarity.
Chapter Five
Tom and I had been married ten years and for most of that time I couldn’t imagine my life turning out any better. I’d been orphaned when I was sixteen. It had been hard for me financially and emotionally. I’d had to be independent and strong, but all I’d ever wanted was to be safe and secure. Tom gave that to me. I was grateful, and I felt privileged too. I never wanted this amazing life he offered to change me. But it did despite my best efforts.
We never discussed the fact that I had, effectively, squandered the amazing opportunity I’d had in getting into Oxford. Nor that I had gained a first – and Tom a 2:1. For Tom, such a privilege was a given and he could have worked harder, he just didn’t need to. But that wasn’t the way he was w
ith the firm. No, that was his real obsession. His life – above all else, even me – was about running the company. As for me, I didn’t mind someone taking care of me for a change. Tom gave me more security than I’d had in years and it was a relief to no longer worry that I might not be able to pay the rent, or buy food that week.
You can only appreciate having money when you’ve truly had none. For years I’d been completely broke. And, when you’ve seen life from both ends of the spectrum, you also know which side your bread is buttered.
You see, I knew my life wasn’t perfect, but I accepted it.
Sometimes I was bored. Oh, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, but at times I had to recognize how my intelligence had been wasted. It frustrated me. I tried to do what the other wives did: lunches, charity benefits, hair and beauty appointments and the obligatory gym membership. We, as the wives of men such as Tom, had to keep our figures and looks regardless of anything else.
I had friends of course. Some I genuinely liked, but none had carried over from the old days. When I took my certificate on graduation day and then didn’t accept that all-important job offer, I dropped off everyone’s radar. Instead Tom and I went on a cruise. Looking back on it now, I realized that my life was mapped out from the day I met him.
I had been lucky in many ways. The Carlisles were snobs, and they valued my education as much as my looks, thankfully, and this, I suppose, allowed them to ignore my humble beginnings. Isadora groomed me. Smoothing away any final rough edges, teaching me the ways of the corporate wife and all the duties it entailed. It was like marrying into royalty, only marginally less public.
Our wedding was featured in a top business magazine and was full of embellishments about Tom’s business acumen – all important for the shareholders to see. My only embellishment was the most expensive designer dress Isadora could find. And my looks. My looks were, I think, the most important of all. The wedding took place at Isadora and Conrad’s manor house in Surrey. A beautiful old and huge building that sat in several acres of land and had been passed down through generations of Carlisles.
The Stranger in Our Bed Page 2
