The Stranger in My Bed: An utterly gripping psychological thriller Page 2

Phil followed her as she took the flowers into the kitchen. He leant his back against the white marble worktop, the string handles of the lingerie bag dangling from his fingers, watching as she took the crystal vase down from the shelf, swilled it out under the tap to make sure it was clean and dust-free, then took the container of distilled water out of the black, slimline kitchen cupboard and filled the vase with it before adding two teaspoonfuls of sugar – all tips she’d read on the internet to make cut roses last longer. Phil slid open the drawer by the sink, took out the scissors and handed them to her.

  ‘Thanks.’ She carefully unwrapped the roses, got rid of any leaves that would be submerged under the water and cut a forty-five-degree angle in each stem. Then she artistically arranged them in the vase, folded the expensive wrapping paper and put it in the recycling bin. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you, darling.’ She leant over and kissed Phil again, then carried the vase into the lounge and put it on the light oak wall cabinet, away from direct sunlight. With a bit of luck they should last a week or so now. Phil spent so much on flowers for her, it was ungrateful not to take the best care of them that she could. The first bunch he had bought her had only lasted a few days and he’d been so upset. She’d looked up how to care for them properly after that.

  ‘Now for your second present.’ Phil held out the bag of lingerie. Freya smiled brightly as she took out the lacy, almost-not-there scarlet knickers and matching push-up bra. Phil always bought the same style. ‘Thank you, darling, this is a pleasant surprise. What’s the occasion?’ Phil usually bought her underwear for her birthday, Christmas, their anniversary and Valentine’s Day. It was the second week of June so none of those occasions fitted.

  ‘Do I need a special day to treat my wife?’ he asked, disappointment flicking across his face.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Good, because I’ve got another surprise too.’ He looked excited, as if he was bursting to tell her, his eyes sparkling, a smile playing on his lips.

  What could it be? She cast her mind back to other surprises he’d sprung on her. Maybe it was a weekend away? She had planned on working this weekend but she could work late on Monday if he had arranged something. She didn’t want to be unappreciative and ruin the surprise.

  ‘I’ve booked us a week in a luxury hotel in Dubai,’ he announced.

  Dubai? They’d been talking about going there – it was a city Freya had wanted to visit for ages. She’d rather have sat down and chosen the hotel together, but she knew that Phil meant well. He loved to surprise her. She smiled. ‘That sounds wonderful. When?’

  They were pretty busy at the office but she was due some holiday, and once this presentation she was working on was over and the new high-profile account signed and sealed, things would calm down a bit, so she was sure she could manage a week off. Phil worked part-time as a lecturer on the journalism course at the university and had finished his sessions now until September, although of course he still had his articles to write. He freelanced for the local newspaper and several magazines.

  ‘Monday.’ He swooped her up in his arms, lifting her up and kissing her. ‘So you’d better get packing.’

  She swallowed, a vice of anxiety tightening her stomach. ‘Monday? This Monday?’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t it fantastic? I got a brilliant last-minute deal.’

  ‘Phil. I can’t go on Monday. It’s Friday evening now! You know I can’t take a week off from work with no notice. And especially next week. You know I have to do this presentation. I’ve been working on it for ages and this is an important account.’ Her voice sounded like a high-pitched squeak.

  He loosened his grip and she almost fell to the floor. ‘Surely you can wrangle it. You’re owed holiday. Just pass the work on to someone else.’ The disappointment on his face made her feel so guilty – and angry. How could he possibly think she could take a week off work just like that? She couldn’t let Stefan and the rest of the team down.

  ‘I can’t. You should have checked with me before you booked. You’re going to have to change the dates—’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Freya, you’re not bloody indispensable. Surely you can take a week off.’

  Then that was it, they were in the middle of another blazing row, both of them yelling and shouting. Things getting broken.

  Then, like always, it got physical.

  Finally Phil left, telling her that he couldn’t take any more.

  She should have handled it better. She could have acted pleased by the surprise. She had Stefan’s home number and could have contacted him and explained what had happened, asked if Nadia could take over the presentation.

  Stefan might have said no but she could have tried instead of dismissing it out of hand. She was owed the holiday and yes, she had wanted to secure the deal herself, but as long as the company got the new account, what did it matter?

  Her mum was always telling her that she was lucky to have Phil, that she shouldn’t be so confrontational, that she should learn to back down. She didn’t understand that Freya always stood her ground because she was so determined not to be a doormat like her mother had been. Mum had waited on her dad hand and foot, turning a blind eye to his numerous affairs because she wanted to hang on to the big house and comfortable lifestyle. Her father had left eventually, met someone he wanted to make a new life with, and her mother had been devastated. After all the years they’d been together, she ended up bitter that after everything she’d tolerated, her husband had still deserted her. Freya didn’t want her and Phil’s marriage to be like that; she wanted to have a proper partnership, both equals. It was one of the reasons she’d broken up with her ex: he’d been too immature and she’d had to take responsibility for everything.

  She suddenly became aware that her forearm was stinging and glanced down at the nasty gash where a chunk of the shattered vase had ricocheted and hit her. Blood was running down from it onto the floor. She got up and staggered into the kitchen, running cold water over the wound to make sure there was no glass in it. God, it stung! When the bleeding ceased a little she carefully inspected the cut. It didn’t look like it needed stitches, thank goodness. She took the first-aid kit out of the top cupboard and put a dressing over the wound, then poured herself a glass of water, leaning against the kitchen sink as she drank it, shaking so much that water slopped out of the glass.

  Someone could have been seriously hurt today.

  She couldn’t risk it happening again.

  She had to get out. Now.

  3

  Now

  Did Phil’s eyes just flicker? She was sure she hadn’t imagined it. Freya stood up and peered anxiously at her husband’s pale face, searching for any sign of movement. There it was again: a light flutter of the eyelids. Was he regaining consciousness? Oh please, God, let him come round. She clasped her hand to her mouth, hope rising in her heart, as Phil murmured slightly and his eyelids flickered again. He was! He was coming out of the coma! She pressed the bell to alert the nurse then reached for his hand. ‘Phil. Phil. Can you hear me?’

  Slowly his eyes opened. ‘Freya.’ His voice was little more than a whisper.

  At that moment the door opened and two nurses and a doctor rushed in.

  ‘He’s awake. He said my name,’ she exclaimed. ‘He recognised me. He said my name.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, love. I know you want to stay with your husband but we need you to wait outside while the doctor checks him over,’ one of the nurses replied.

  ‘Of course.’

  Freya stepped out of the door into the corridor just as Daisy returned with the drinks.

  ‘Phil’s regained consciousness. He recognised me!’ Freya was almost crying with relief. ‘The doctor is with him now.’

  Daisy’s eyes lit up too. ‘Really? Oh wow! That’s fantastic, Freya. I’m so pleased.’ She handed Freya the coffee. ‘Now you can stop worrying. Everything will be fine.’ They both sat down on the grey plastic chairs outside the room, drinking the hot liquid in silence
. Waiting.

  It seemed an eternity before the doctor came out. ‘Everything seems to be fine physically, Mrs Keegan. We will follow up shortly with some further tests, but things are looking positive.’

  ‘Oh, thank God. Thank God.’ Tears flowed down her cheeks in relief. Things weren’t perfect between her and Phil, but if he’d died, she would never have forgiven herself. She threw her arms around Daisy. ‘He’s going to be okay!’

  ‘I told you he would be.’ Daisy gave her a reassuring hug. ‘Can we go in and see him?’ she asked the doctor.

  ‘Yes, but only for a few minutes, we don’t want to tire him out. And it may be best if Mrs Keegan goes in first. Give them a few minutes alone together?’ the doctor replied.

  Freya desperately wanted to see Phil, to talk to him, but she was nervous too. Scared of what he would say. And of what she should say to him. So much had happened.

  Wiping away her tears with a tissue, she took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

  Phil was propped up in bed and had some colour in his cheeks now. His face lit up when he saw her. ‘Freya, I was wondering if you were here.’

  ‘Of course I am. I’ve been here all the time.’ Not sure what to do, how to act, she hugged him gently, making sure she didn’t knock his broken ribs. Then she gave him a peck on the cheek before sitting down on the chair beside the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like I’ve been run over by a lorry – which apparently I have.’ He gave her a wan smile and shook his head weakly. ‘I can’t remember a thing about the accident and my head is killing me.’ He nodded ruefully at his bandaged arm. ‘This stings a bit, and my ribs are sore, but the doctor said they should heal in a few weeks.’

  ‘You’re lucky you weren’t killed.’

  He reached out and clasped her hand, holding it tightly in his. It felt warm, comforting, and she could see the love shining out of his eyes. ‘The doctor said I’ve been out for nearly three days. You must have been worried sick.’

  ‘I was.’ She bit her lip, tears welling up again. ‘Oh Phil, I thought I’d lost you.’

  Then she realised he was staring at her. Was this it, where he suddenly remembered what had happened?

  ‘You’ve cut your hair,’ he said, the disappointment evident in his voice.

  ‘What?’ For a moment his words stunned her. ‘I had it cut a few months ago,’ she reminded him. ‘It’s almost at my shoulders again now.’ Phil loved her to wear her wavy chestnut hair long and had been upset when she’d come home with a chin-length bob. She pushed the memories of that argument out of her mind. She needed to focus on the here and now.

  He looked confused. ‘No, you didn’t! You’ve always had long hair. You had to keep tying it back on our honeymoon because of the heat.’

  She stared at him. What an odd thing to say. ‘That was over two years ago, Phil.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘Our honeymoon.’

  He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, it wasn’t. We only came back yesterday. Well, four days ago I should say, as it seems I’ve been stuck here for three days,’ he corrected himself.

  Freya bit her lip apprehensively. He was obviously confused; he had been out for quite a while though. ‘It’s been two years since our wedding, Phil,’ she said gently.

  ‘It hasn’t! Why are you saying that? We came back from Barbados on Wednesday. I remember it!’ His voice rose in panic.

  ‘Phil, it’s okay. Calm down.’ Freya placed a hand on his arm to reassure him.

  The door opened and Daisy came in. ‘How’s the patient?’

  Phil didn’t seem to notice her; he was focused on Freya and clearly agitated.

  ‘Your hair was long. I plaited it for you before you went into the sea. That was on Tuesday. Why are you saying it was two years ago?’

  Freya tried to keep her voice steady, to talk soothingly despite the anxiety rising within her. ‘You’ve been unconscious, Phil. The doctor said you might be disorientated. It will pass, don’t worry.’ She glanced over at Daisy. ‘Phil seems to have lost his memory; he thinks we’ve just come back from our honeymoon,’ she explained.

  ‘Gosh, really?’ Daisy moved over to Freya’s side and looked at Phil. ‘Do you remember me, Phil?’ she asked.

  Phil stared at her. ‘Yes, you’re Daisy, Freya’s sister. You’ve got twins. I think they’re about three or four.’

  ‘They’re six now and at school,’ Freya told him.

  ‘Six?’ Phil looked astonished. ‘They can’t be…’

  Seeing the confusion in his eyes, Freya took his hand in hers. ‘What’s the last thing you remember?’

  Phil frowned. ‘Stepping off the plane… We’d just come home from our honeymoon…’ His voice faded and he was visibly upset. ‘Was it really two years ago?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t worry, you’ve only just come round. You’ll remember everything more clearly soon.’ Freya squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  ‘I think I’d better go and tell the nurse about this,’ Daisy said.

  Phil closed his eyes and sank his head back into his pillow. He looked weak, vulnerable. And scared. Freya swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It must be horrible not to be able to remember things properly.

  Daisy returned a few minutes later with a nurse and doctor.

  ‘Can you both wait outside again while we examine Mr Keegan, just so we can assess the situation?’ the doctor said. ‘And don’t worry – a bit of confusion is normal after any sort of traumatic brain injury.’

  Freya and Daisy went back out to the corridor.

  ‘Phil looks so frightened,’ Freya said, her voice almost a whisper. ‘He really can’t remember the last two years at all. What if he’s got permanent brain damage, Daisy?’ Fears were gnawing away at her mind. What if Phil couldn’t look after himself? If he was now mentally impaired?

  ‘Try not to worry. Let’s wait and see what the doctor says,’ Daisy replied, patting her hand. ‘He’s been in a coma, remember. He’s bound to be confused.’

  It was ten minutes before the door opened and the doctor came out. Freya jumped to her feet. ‘Is he…?’

  ‘He’s calmed down and I think it’s a good idea if he has some rest now,’ she said kindly. ‘I think your husband is suffering from what we would call mild retrograde amnesia. In other words, he has lost a specific set of memories. These things can happen.’

  ‘How long will it last? Will he get his memory back?’ Daisy asked before Freya could.

  The doctor shook her head. ‘It’s hard to tell. He’s lucky, in a way. It is hard to be entirely sure but we’ve asked him a few questions and it seems like he’s probably only lost a couple of years of his memory. Some people lose many years, and in extreme cases they lose their memory completely. As it’s only partial it may well come back over a number of days, weeks or years, but we can’t say for certain. He might never get those two years back.’ She looked sympathetically at Freya. ‘I’ve given him something to help him sleep, so he’ll be out now for a while. Why don’t you go home and take a rest too? Come back this evening. Things might be clearer in your husband’s mind then.’

  Freya nodded wordlessly. She was exhausted. And she desperately needed time on her own to think.

  ‘Do you want me to come back with you?’ Daisy offered. ‘My friend, Lisa, could pick the twins up from school and look after them until Mark comes home.’

  ‘Thank you but I’ll be fine, honest. I just want a shower and to get my head down for a bit.’ And she didn’t want Daisy to see all the broken glass in the lounge. She hadn’t had the chance to clear it up after the police had arrived because she’d then been at the hospital all weekend, praying Phil would come out of the coma.

  ‘Phone me if you need anything. Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’ She gave her sister a hug. ‘Thank you so much for being here.’

  ‘Any time.’

  Freya drove home almost on autopilot. She parked her car in the drive and opened the fro
nt door. It felt strange to be back home. The house was silent, as if it had been waiting for her return. She walked into the lounge, gazing in despair at the glass vase shattered all over the floor. The crumpled flowers with their broken stems.

  She thought about their row. The one Phil couldn’t even remember now. And all the other rows he couldn’t remember either. She thought about how frightened and vulnerable he had looked lying in that hospital bed.

  Should I still leave him?

  4

  Freya had meant to have a coffee and a bite to eat, take a quick shower, change and then go back to the hospital, but as soon as she sat down on the big comfy sofa with her coffee and sandwich she felt her eyes closing. She was exhausted. Hardly surprising as she had barely slept for the past three days. She placed her mug on the coffee table and rested her head back. I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes, she decided. I’ll feel better after a power nap.

  The persistent ringing of her mobile awoke her an hour later, her mug of coffee now cold and her sandwich still lying uneaten on the plate. She reached over for her bag where her mobile was still ringing – whoever was calling her wasn’t about to give up – and saw that it was her mother. She groaned; she really didn’t want to talk to her mum right now. She knew that she was probably just phoning to ask how Phil was, but Freya didn’t feel she could deal with her mum’s constant questions and her obvious devotion to Phil, who could do no wrong in her eyes. Freya hadn’t decided yet what to do about their marriage; her suitcase was still in the car and her mind a messed-up muddle. Just because Phil had had an accident and suffered a partial loss of memory, it didn’t mean she should give their marriage another chance.

  Because the fact that he didn’t remember what had gone on in their marriage didn’t necessarily mean that things would be different from now on, did it?

  A ping announced an incoming message. Freya opened it up, guessing it was from her mother.

  Daisy told me poor darling Phil is awake but suffering from amnesia! How terrible! I hope you are looking after him. Do give him my love.