The Stranger in Our Bed. Samantha Lee Howe

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      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.

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