Page 6 of Hide In The House

I hear them kissing then, before they eventually break off from that to talk again.

‘Part of me blames myself for her problems,’ he says next. ‘My drinking got out of control for a while, and though I’ve mostly stopped now, I fear I am the one who turned her into an alcoholic.’

‘You can’t blame yourself.’

‘Two alcoholics living together in the same house whilst raising kids. It was a recipe for disaster.’

‘Raising kids is enough to turn anyone to drink,’ the woman quips.

Before I can hear the man’s reaction to that, I hear something else. We all hear it, and all at the same time.

We hear the front door opening downstairs.

‘Who’s that?’ the woman asks urgently, in hushed tones.

‘Oh no,’ he replies as I stay well hidden. ‘It must be my wife.’

5

Could things get any worse?

There’s always the chance they can, and not just for me. For all of us. What each of us in this bedroom hears next confirms it.

‘Where is she?’ comes the furious female cry from downstairs, but obviously, nobody up here chooses to answer her.

‘I know you’re here because your car is parked on the driveway!’ comes the next outburst. ‘So come out, wherever you are! And bring your mistress with you!’

Those are the words that come floating up from downstairs, filtering into this bedroom and making it very clear that this surprise visit is pre-planned.

She must have suspected her husband was cheating on her with someone else.

Now she is here to catch them in the act.

And I’m caught right in the middle of it.

‘She knows about me?’ the woman on the bed above me asks frantically, her voice a panicked whisper.

‘She can’t do. We’ve been careful,’ the man replies in exactly the same fashion.

‘It sounds like she knows,’ the woman snaps back, and I’m afraid she’s right. It really does sound like their sordid secret is a secret no more.

But what happens next?

Based on what I just heard him say about his wife’s current disposition and how she can get aggressive when she’s been drinking, it can’t be good.

‘I know you’re here somewhere, so show some guts and come out and face me,’ comes the next daunting command from downstairs. ‘Are you upstairs? Are you both in my bed right now?’

One small mercy may be that they are not in her bed right now. But it is really only a small one.

‘What do we do?’ the woman above me asks fearfully, and she has every right to be scared. She is the ‘other woman’ here, the mistress, the homewrecker. She’s not the only villain up here, but she may be the weakest one.

‘I don’t know,’ the man replies very unhelpfully, and I guess he is scared too. Of course he is. He’s just been caught cheating by a wife who is possibly drunk and potentially aggressive. If I were him, I’d be jumping out of this bedroom window and hoping to make an escape over the garden fence. But he’s not moving. Neither of them are. I’m certainly not going to move either.

But someone is on the move.

‘I’m coming up,’ the woman calls, and we can all hear the footsteps on the stairs that confirm she is doing exactly as she says.

‘Oh no,’ the mistress says, and I hear the mattress move above me as she presumably tries to get up.