How well do you really know your husband?

When Tom Mahoney was mugged on his way home from work, they thought that was the worst thing that could happen.

They were wrong.

When Tina & Harry found out they couldn’t have more children, they thought that was the worst thing that could happen.

They were wrong.

When the new teacher Isabel Rawlins arrives, she brings with her a secret that's about to blow their respectable worlds apart.

Five lives all intertwined and heading on a collision course.Will their relationships survive, or is one or more couple about to find out there’s a husband thief in their midst?

Remember, if you have trust you can conquer anything. When trust goes, madness sets in.

This tale comes with a twist that it’s doubtful you will see coming.

Prologue

The storm crept up and took me completely by surprise. It arrived with no warning and the devastation was life-changing.

The blue lights that illuminated the street weren’t unusual, there was no siren, just the flashing lights behind the curtain announcing their arrival.

Like most other people, the sight of them fascinated me. They spell danger and excitement and offer the promise of something different in a usually mundane life.

However, these lights were different for a reason, much closer to home. They stopped outside my door.

Strangely, the first thought that came to mind was what the neighbours would think. The curtains would be twitching as everybody breathed a sigh of relief when they saw they had been spared — this time, anyway.

Briefly, I wish Jack would wake up to see this. He would love the fact that a proper police car was parked outside his door. He would stare at it wide-eyed with awe and amazement as the uniformed officers walked up to our path. However, like most little boys his age, he is firmly tucked up in bed, fast asleep and hopefully dreaming of innocent things.

I hear them approach, and my heart starts banging in time with their footsteps. There is no conversation, just the sound of the metal gate squeaking as they open it and the crunch of gravel as they make their way up the path.

In those brief moments when one life changes for another, I wonder what it can be. It must be Tom; it can’t be anything else. He’s late and his tea is growing cold in the oven as it waits for him.

Although he is two hours late, it’s not unusual and there have been many meals growing cold over the last few months. The only emotion I felt before was irritation as I ate my tea alone, imagining my neighbours sitting down with their own loving husbands who came home at the same time every night and settled into a routine that only changes on holidays and weekends.

It’s only as I anticipate the sound of the doorbell waking my sleeping child that I spur into action and race to answer the door. Whatever this is, he must be spared for a little while longer because, like all mothers, I do everything in my power to make my child’s life happy and stable.

I wrench open the front door and my heart beats a frantic dance inside me as I stare at the officers in shock. Of all the scenarios that raced through my mind in those brief seconds, it didn’t include this. Accompanying the two police officers is a sight that shocks and yet brings so much relief I can’t explain it.

“Tom!”

He raises his eyes wearily and a brief shadow of a smile passes across his bruised lips. “Hi, Karen.”

His voice is weak and yet brings tears to my eyes as I move towards him, my arms reaching for the man I once couldn’t live without.

He stumbles through the door and as I stare at him, the tears burn a hot trail down my cheeks as I take in the sight of him.

I gasp, “What happened?”

The officer clears his throat and says in a deep, strong voice. “He needs to sit down.”

On autopilot, I say breathlessly, “Of course, please come through.”

I feel helpless as I watch Tom wince with pain as he moves towards the living room. It’s obvious he’s hurt, and not just because of the blood and bruises on his face. His normally immaculate clothes are dirty and torn, and he walks as if each step is painful and difficult to do.

He groans as he eases himself gingerly onto the settee and looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, darling.”

I stare at him in disbelief and not because he apologised for something that didn’t need one. I stare because of the look in his eyes. My breath catches as I see that something has changed forever in those eyes. They are filled with devastation and the promise that life will never be the same again.

One of the officers clears his throat and says kindly. “I’m sorry, Mrs Mahoney. Tom has been the victim of a mugging that took place when he left the railway station this evening. As you can see, he is badly shaken and could probably do with a nice cup of tea for the shock.”

I stare at the officer in surprise and say in a whisper, “He was mugged?”

The officer’s eyes are kind and he smiles reassuringly. In some ways, those words should bring me relief. After all, Tom is alive and, although a little bruised, he will survive. However, I know my husband and this will change him. Once the bruises fade and the cuts heal, he will appear normal on the outside, but his life will never be the same again.

Nodding, I jump into action, just glad of something to distract me from the shock of seeing my husband so — vulnerable, and head into the kitchen to make the drinks. It’s funny how we always think a nice cup of tea is the answer to life’s problems. The standard British response to a situation that we need time to process. It’s no different now as I wait for the kettle to boil, my mind racing out of control as I try to come to terms with what’s happened.

The kind officer follows me in and says in a quiet voice. “This must be a shock for you.”

I nod and try to muster a brave smile, saying in a low voice, “What happened?”

“He rang in and reported a mugging outside Surbiton station. By the time we got there the man had gone, and we found your husband slumped in the alley looking as if he had fought a bitter battle. We called an ambulance and got him checked out at the local hospital, but aside from a few cuts and bruises, there was no lasting damage. He was lucky.”

He. Was. Lucky.

Three words meant to reassure, but what’s lucky about what happened to Tom? He is broken; I can see it in his eyes. The man that walked in here will struggle to deal with this long after the physical damage has passed. The man I married is used to being in control and calling the shots and this would have hit him hard mentally.

The kettle switches off and the mother in me switches on. There is no time to dwell on the situation. Action is what’s needed now and I must be grateful that Tom is home and not lying in hospital badly injured, or worse.

I turn to the officer and say gratefully, “Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Thank us when we catch the man who did it. We will be studying the CCTV and making our enquiries and doing everything possible to find him. Nobody should be afraid to walk home after a hard day’s work and be attacked on their own doorstep. It’s not right.”

Grabbing the tea tray, I smile shakily. Strangely, all I can think about is correcting him on the fact it didn’t happen on our doorstep, but that’s typical of the woman I am. I like everything done right and to make sense. However, none of this is right and yet sadly makes perfect sense. You hear of things like this happening all the time but never to people like us — or so we like to believe.

As I carry the tray into the living room, I prepare myself for the storm ahead. Tom may be home physically, but mentally he left a long time ago. This may just be the catalyst that changes an already shaky marriage into something that has been inevitable for many months. Tom and Karen are struggling and are at a fork in the road, but which path is the least treacherous to follow and will this — mugging – change everything?