Back The Ladykiller
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Contents
  4. About the Author
  5. Praise
  6. Dedication
  7. Book One
  8. Prologue
  9. Chapter One
  10. Chapter Two
  11. Chapter Three
  12. Chapter Four
  13. 1948
  14. Chapter Five
  15. 23 December 1989
  16. Chapter Six
  17. Chapter Seven
  18. Christmas 1948
  19. Chapter Eight
  20. Chapter Nine
  21. Chapter Ten
  22. New Year’s Eve
  23. Chapter Eleven
  24. Chapter Twelve
  25. 2 January
  26. Chapter Thirteen
  27. Chapter Fourteen
  28. Chapter Fifteen
  29. Chapter Sixteen
  30. Chapter Seventeen
  31. Chapter Eighteen
  32. Chapter Nineteen
  33. 1953
  34. Chapter Twenty
  35. Chapter Twenty-One
  36. Chapter Twenty-Two
  37. Chapter Twenty-Three
  38. Chapter Twenty-Four
  39. Chapter Twenty-Five
  40. Book Two
  41. Chapter Twenty-Six
  42. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  43. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  44. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  45. Chapter Thirty
  46. Chapter Thirty-One
  47. Chapter Thirty-Two
  48. 4 March 1990
  49. An exciting preview of Martina Cole’s powerful new novel, REVENGE
  50. Prologue

She felt her throat go dry. Please God in heaven, don’t let George tell me . . . I don’t want to know. I just don’t want to know.

‘I’ve been made redundant, Elaine.’

He watched her eyes screw up into tiny slits. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’ve . . . I’ve been made redundant. They told me a while ago. There’s five of us going in all. Streamlining, they call it. I just couldn’t tell you, dear. I felt as if I had failed you again. I’ve been walking the streets in a daze. I’d look at you, my love, watching television, and I just couldn’t tell you.’

Elaine was stunned.

‘I see.’

George could hardly suppress the laughter. He was a sly old fox. He was as clever as a bag of monkeys. He could talk his way out of anything. He was the man.

‘I’m so sorry, dear. I know you’ll think it’s another failure on my part. I always wanted to give you the best, you know I did. Things just never worked out right, no matter how hard I tried.’

Elaine sat very still. Her face was closed to George through years of habit. One tiny part of her felt that she should go to him, put her arms around him and commiserate with him. But she could not. Years of avoiding physical contact with him had made such a simple act impossible.

Poor George had received the ultimate insult. At fifty-one he was on the scrap heap. He would never work again and she, his wife, was relieved that that was all that was wrong. That he was not a murderer. That he was not a rapist. She knew she shouldn’t have thought such terrible things about him, but after what had happened before . . .

She pushed the thought from her mind. She would not think about that now. She had a duty to George if nothing else.

‘I’m sorry, but we’ll get by somehow. I expect the redundancy money will be quite a bit. The house is paid for. I’m working. We’ll get by.’

He smiled at her sadly.

‘That’s why I said at Christmas that we would go to see Edith in Florida. I knew I would have the redundancy money and I wanted you to have something to look forward to, you see. I wanted at least to have given you that. A trip to America with no expense spared. The trip of a lifetime.’