The Stranger in My Bed: An utterly gripping psychological thriller Page 4

  ‘Thanks. I’m not sure Phil’s up to many visitors. Are you?’

  Phil shook his head. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful – it’s nice that people care – but I don’t really remember your mum. I feel too confused to chat to people who are almost strangers to me right now.’

  ‘That’s okay. You only met my family a couple of times before the wedding so of course you wouldn’t recall them much,’ Freya pointed out. Whereas she hadn’t met Phil’s family at all. She wondered again whether to ask if he wanted his family to be informed about the accident but decided he’d mention it if he did.

  Daisy turned away and started rummaging through her bag, pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. ‘Of course. I’ll talk to Mum later tonight and tell her to leave it until you feel a bit stronger.’

  ‘Perhaps she could visit when I go home,’ suggested Phil. ‘I might remember things more clearly once I’m back in familiar surroundings.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ agreed Freya, trying not to panic at the thought of Phil coming home. He looked so vulnerable with his bandaged arm and broken ribs and she instinctively wanted to look after him.

  But was that a risk worth taking?

  *

  So, he’s alive. And I’m relieved. I didn’t expect to be – I thought I wanted him dead, but when I saw the ambulance and the police all over the scene, watched them carry his body on a stretcher, I knew that I hadn’t really wanted him to die. My anger had consumed me and all I could think of was making him suffer, like he’d made me suffer, but I don’t want him dead. That would make me a murderer. I could have been locked up. I still could be if anyone finds out what I did.

  I still want him to suffer, though. I want him to realise what he’s done, to be sorry. He’s evil: a cruel, callous bully. He can’t get away with that. I’m not going to let him. This isn’t over yet.

  6

  Tuesday

  Knowing that Phil was out of danger was such a relief that Freya slept soundly all night, only waking when her mobile rang the next morning. She sighed when she saw that it was a call from her mother.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘I didn’t wake you, did I? I thought you would be too worried about Phil to sleep in late…’

  There it was, the usual thinly veiled criticism: if her mother didn’t actually voice her opinion that Freya wasn’t a good wife to Phil, she always hinted at it.

  ‘He’s out of danger now, Mum, and I was exhausted. It’s been a stressful few days.’

  ‘Which is exactly why I wanted to come over and help you look after Phil, but Daisy said it would be too much for him. That he doesn’t remember me.’ She sounded hurt.

  ‘He’s got amnesia, Mum. He can’t remember the last two years. The doctors said his memory will probably come back, though. And no, it isn’t a good time to visit at the moment. It’d be best to leave it for a while.’

  ‘What about when Phil comes out of hospital? You’ll need help then, won’t you? You’ll be taking time off work to look after him, I hope.’

  ‘I’m on compassionate leave this week, Mum. I’m not sure about next week. I’ll see how Phil is.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, how can you even think of going back to work and leaving Phil to cope?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum, I have to go, there’s another call coming in.’ It was a lie but she needed to get her mother off the phone before she went into a full-blown lecture on how Freya should look after Phil.

  ‘All right, dear. Well, give darling Phil my love and let me know when I can come and see him.’

  ‘I will. Bye, Mum.’

  Freya sat up, cross-legged, tapping her chin with the phone. Honestly, her mother drove her mad. Phil could do no wrong in her eyes. No wonder Freya couldn’t confide in her. She needed to talk to someone, though. Her head felt fit to burst. On Friday evening she had been sure their marriage was over. But now…

  She’d have a shower and go and see Daisy. She wasn’t working today and the twins were at school. Daisy wasn’t someone she normally turned to but she’d been so supportive the past few days and Freya felt that they’d grown closer. She was sure her sister would listen and give her some good advice.

  Freya took her time in the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her, washing away the stress. Finally, hair shampooed and conditioned, and feeling a lot more relaxed, she reached for the fluffy white bath towel hanging over the nearby rail. As she rubbed herself dry she caught the cut on her right forearm again and winced. It was healing now but still tender. She shut her eyes tight at the memory of the vase hurling across the room and shattering, pieces scattering everywhere, one searing into her arm, another hitting Phil’s forehead. He’d been furious.

  ‘You always do this! Every time I try to do something nice you turn it into an argument and then this happens!’

  Freya hadn’t replied; she’d simply stood there, shaking as she looked at the blood trickling out of the cut on her arm and down Phil’s forehead.

  ‘I can’t deal with this any more. I’m going!’ Phil looked anguished, his voice trembling.

  She’d wanted him to go. She couldn’t cope any longer either. She’d wanted Phil to go and never come back.

  As he’d slammed the door, her legs had finally given out underneath her and she’d crumpled to the floor. She had to get away. Phil would come back; he always did. Well, she wouldn’t be here when he came back. She’d had enough. She wanted a divorce.

  Now Phil couldn’t remember any of that fight, or any of their other terrible arguments. All he remembered were the happy times when they were dating, their wedding and honeymoon. He thought they were happily married. If only.

  Freya pulled a colourful, thin, long-sleeved top out of the wardrobe, and a pair of white cropped trousers. It was a sunny day, though not as hot as it would have been in Dubai. She bit her lip as she ran her brush through her hair, wishing they were there now, sunning themselves on a soft, sandy beach. Instead Phil was lying in a hospital bed.

  Was it her fault? Had she been the one who’d raised her voice first, angry that once again he thought her work wasn’t important and expected her to fall in with his wishes?

  She made a cup of coffee and half-heartedly nibbled at a piece of toast, deep in thought, the clatter of the letterbox startling her for a moment. Toast in hand, she got up and stepped out into the hall to see a magazine lying on the mat. She picked it up: the Climate Changer. Phil had it delivered every month – he had been trying to get something accepted by them for months and had been jubilant when a few weeks ago they had finally accepted one of his articles. She’d take the magazine to the hospital with her today, give him something to read.

  She took her coffee out into the garden and sat down at the table. She loved this garden – they’d spent ages planning it, getting it right when they’d first moved in. Well, Phil had. The university where he worked part-time always closed for the summer, which meant he had weeks at home. Yes, he was writing, as he was constantly at pains to tell Freya, but he spent a lot of time doing the house and garden too. Freya envied him his time off in the summer and had sometimes told him so. ‘You could work from home too if you went self-employed,’ he’d told her. In fact, he’d asked her to several times since they’d been married, wanting her to give up her job at IPA Studio and work part-time as a freelancer, but she’d refused. She’d freelanced for a few years before she got the job at IPA, but the income was too irregular and she enjoyed her job even if it was hectic. She liked going to work, meeting people. Besides, she wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea for her and Phil to be rattling around the house together every day; they’d probably get on each other’s nerves. And Phil was so impulsive, he’d suggest going out whenever he wasn’t working and expect Freya to drop everything and go with him – then there would be a fight if she refused.

  Like with the holiday.

  Her coffee finished, she walked slowly into the kitchen. She loved this house. And she loved Phil. The ni
ce Phil. The Phil who made her laugh so much she literally had a pain in her side, the Phil who had swept her off her feet that very first date, who bought her flowers, chocolate, presents, who hugged her, told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. All her friends thought he was wonderful too, told her how lucky she was. Everyone thought they were the perfect pair and had a wonderful marriage. There was a dark side to their marriage, though, one she had never told anyone about.

  Phil insisted that it wasn’t him, it was her. ‘You make me like this. You’re so bloody argumentative and stubborn,’ he often told her.

  She picked up her car keys and bag and set off to see Daisy. Maybe a chat with her sister would help her sort out what to do.

  7

  ‘Hello, Freya. Good to see you,’ Mark said as he opened the door. ‘Daisy said Phil is on the mend now. I’m so pleased. It must have been such a worrying time for you.’

  ‘Yes, he is, thank goodness.’ Freya hovered on the step. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were home, Mark. I should have sent a text instead of turning up like this. I wanted to talk to Daisy, but I can come back if it’s an inconvenient time. Or phone?’

  ‘It’s not a problem, I’m leaving for work soon. Daisy will be delighted to see you. She’s in the kitchen.’ Mark pulled the door open wider for Freya to walk through. ‘Go on in.’

  Freya headed for the kitchen, where she found Daisy looking pale and tired, half-heartedly eating a bowl of muesli. When she saw Freya, Daisy’s eyes widened, and she put the dish down.

  ‘Freya. Have you had news? Has Phil’s memory come back?’

  ‘No, but I wanted to talk to you… Are you all right?’ she asked as the colour drained from her sister’s face. Daisy jumped up and went running past Mark, who had just followed Freya in. Freya heard the downstairs toilet door slam shut and the sound of retching.

  ‘She was like that yesterday morning too.’ Mark looked concerned.

  ‘Has she got a tummy bug?’ Freya asked. ‘She mentioned that she was feeling a bit queasy at the hospital yesterday.’

  ‘That’s what we thought but it cleared up by midday. Now she’s been sick this morning too. God, it reminds me of…’ Realisation dawned in his eyes; he turned away, went over to the sink and filled a glass with cold water.

  Is he thinking that Daisy could be pregnant?

  They both turned as Daisy came back in and Mark handed her the glass of water.

  ‘Thanks.’ She gulped it down.

  ‘That’s the second morning you’ve been sick. You don’t think…’ Mark paused, his forehead creased with worry.

  Daisy’s hand shook as she lowered the glass, panic all over her face. It looked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to her. Her eyes rested on Mark’s face but she couldn’t seem to find the words to reply.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sure you’re not. And if you are, it’ll be fine.’ He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. ‘Take it easy today and we’ll talk tonight. I’m sorry but I have to dash now.’ He kissed her on the cheek and was off.

  Daisy looked as if her legs were going to give way. She sat down at the table and chewed her bottom lip as she stared down into her glass.

  ‘Are you okay, Daisy?’ Freya was concerned at how troubled her sister looked.

  ‘I was just remembering, there was that time we had a curry and both had an upset stomach the next day. The doctor said that the pill didn’t work so well when you had an upset stomach.’ She raised her eyes to Freya, looking utterly distraught. ‘Oh, Freya, I could be pregnant!’

  ‘Would it be such a bad thing if you are?’ Freya asked, sitting down beside her.

  Daisy’s eyes clouded over. ‘It will be a disaster,’ she said simply.

  The tone of her voice worried Freya; she had thought that Daisy and Mark’s marriage was rock-solid. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors, she reminded herself. Look at me and Phil. Well, her sister had been a support and comfort for the worst few days of Freya’s life, and Freya was determined to return the favour. She got up. ‘Let me make us both a cup of coffee then we’ll talk about it.’

  ‘Tea for me, please. I can’t stomach coffee first thing now,’ Daisy told her.

  Freya sat, sipping her drink, as her sister poured out how she had struggled when the twins were born, barely sleeping, going days without finding time for a shower or a decent meal. ‘A baby is the last thing we need. Molly and Max are at school now, off our hands. Mark and I finally have time to breathe, have the occasional night out – when he isn’t working all the hours under the sun, that is.’ She wiped away the tears that spilt out of her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘It was a really hard time when they were both little, Freya. It’s only really got easier since they’ve started school.’

  Freya reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘Look, you might not even be pregnant. Take a test and find out. You could be worrying over nothing.’

  ‘I will. I’ll get one today. But what if I am? Oh God, what if it’s twins again? I can’t go through all that again. I can’t.’

  ‘The odds are that if you are pregnant, it will probably only be one baby this time. And I’ll help you out. I’m sure Mark will be amazing too. He is so supportive.’

  ‘That’s the trouble. Mark’s kind, supportive… and boring. The spark’s pretty much gone out of our marriage. We’re both so busy we’re like ships passing in the night. We hardly make love any more, we’re both too tired to do more than have a quick cuddle. Even Mum noticed. She insisted on having Molly and Max overnight a couple of months ago, saying that we needed some quality time together.’ She told Freya how she and Mark had gone out for a curry then both had an upset stomach so their plans for a romantic weekend had been scuppered. Then Mark had instigated a quick love-making session on the Sunday morning. ‘If I am pregnant, it must have been then,’ she said. ‘Which means I’m a couple of months gone.’

  She looked so panic-stricken that Freya impulsively gave her a hug, not knowing what to say. She had never seen her sister look so upset.

  Daisy sniffed, reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box on the table, and blew her nose. ‘Take no notice of me, I’m being emotional. Like you said it could be a false alarm. Now, tell me what brings you here. Is it Phil?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t worry, he hasn’t had a relapse or anything.’ Freya took a deep breath. She’d never confided in anyone about this but she desperately needed advice. ‘The thing is, we haven’t been getting on great either, Daisy. We have terrible arguments. We had one the night of the accident.’

  ‘How terrible?’ Daisy asked, her eyes fixed on Freya’s face.

  ‘Violent,’ Freya admitted. Then she paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘Phil throws things. He lashes out, hits me.’ She swallowed. ‘I was leaving him the night of the accident. That’s why I had a suitcase in my car. I don’t know what to do now.’

  She could see the shock in Daisy’s eyes. ‘Phil hits you,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Phil? He seems so easy-going and—’

  ‘I know that’s what everyone thinks. The truth is he has a terrible temper. Friday night he threw a vase of flowers up the wall. He was throwing it at me but I moved just in time. A chunk of glass cut my arm, though.’ She pointed to the cut on her arm. ‘I pretended that I grazed it gardening – it was the same broken glass ricocheting that cut Phil’s forehead too. Then he stormed out. He was so angry, too angry to drive carefully – I’m sure that’s why he crashed the car.’

  Daisy stared at her, stunned. For a moment it seemed as if she was lost for words. Then she said firmly, ‘Freya, if Phil is violent, you absolutely shouldn’t go back to him.’

  8

  Freya thought about Daisy’s words as she drove to the hospital. She knew she would say the same to her sister if she’d told her Mark was abusive and that it was the sensible thing to do in normal circumstances. These weren’t normal circumstances, though. Phil had been in a traumatic road accident and now had amnesi
a – it seemed callous to leave him for something he couldn’t even remember he’d done. And if he could remember nothing since returning from their honeymoon, a period of time when they had been really happy together, she couldn’t help hoping that maybe that would mean he would revert to the person he’d been before they had got married.

  ‘Freya!’ Phil smiled as she walked in. He looked a lot brighter today.

  ‘Hello, Phil. How are you?’ Freya bent over and kissed him on the cheek, seeing the puzzlement on his face because she hadn’t kissed him on the lips like she always used to do before they were married. She couldn’t bring herself to do that; she was still hurt by his actions, still unsure of whether they had a future together.

  ‘I’m feeling good. The headaches have eased and I’ve been down to the canteen for lunch and then had a wander in the garden. How are you? This must have been such a worrying time for you.’ His eyes were full of concern.

  ‘It has been, but it’s good to see that you’re getting better.’ She reached into her bag and took out the magazine, placing it on the bed beside him. ‘I brought you this – it was delivered today. I thought you might like to read it. I’m sure it’s boring being stuck in here.’

  ‘It is a bit.’ He glanced at the magazine. ‘Thanks. I might as well put my time in here to use and see if I can come up with an article idea that they might finally accept.’

  Of course, he didn’t remember that he’d already had one published in there. ‘You sold them an article a few weeks ago.’ She pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed.

  Phil looked surprised. ‘Did I? What article?’ He clapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation. ‘I hate this! The biggest moment of my writing career and I can’t even remember it!’