Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- Dedication
- KARLA
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Epilogue
- The Affair
- Hear more from Sheryl
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- A Letter from Sheryl
- The Babysitter
- The Second Wife
- Acknowledgements
Reluctantly, I take the call, guessing they’re checking to see how long I might be off sick. Fervently, I hope it isn’t the girl I reduced to tears. Oh no. My guilt multiplies as I realise it’s the chief executive himself.
‘Karla, how are you?’ John asks, pleasant and cheery, as always. I wish he wasn’t. I don’t feel I can rise to it.
‘Still a bit wobbly,’ I say, not quite lying.
John tsks in sympathy. ‘It’s a nasty bug,’ he says of the flu I’m supposed to have, which is going around. ‘Well, don’t you worry about rushing back,’ he adds. ‘Just take your time and make sure you’re fully recovered before you return to work.’
‘I will,’ I say weakly.
‘While I’ve got you, though – and I’m sorry to bother you with it while you’re off ill – but do you think I could pick your brains about something?’
‘Yes?’ I say warily.
‘Those pesky minutes for the last board meeting, you don’t happen to know if the audio tape ever surfaced, do you?’ he asks. ‘It’s just that the board are convening an emergency meeting due to lack of funding and, stupidly, I deleted my notes from my PC once I’d dictated them. We’re going to be a bit lost without them.’
What? I blink, stupefied. Is he seriously asking me about something that happened aeons ago? In another lifetime, it seems to me now, when my bloody life wasn’t falling apart?
‘I don’t know, John,’ I answer, feeling irrationally agitated suddenly. ‘Why don’t you pop over to the admin assistants’ office and ask them?’ As in, assert your authority and stop expecting me to do everything for you.
‘Oh well, not to worry.’ He sighs expansively. ‘I’m sure the board members will understand. I think I’ve committed some of it to memory. I’ll just have to wing—’
‘Alternatively, you could suggest that the board members drag themselves out of the dark ages and get online?’ I say facetiously over him. ‘You could send the minutes directly yourself then, couldn’t you, instead of having to post them out?’
Shocked, clearly, John doesn’t speak for a moment, then, ‘Yes, well, thanks for your help, Karla,’ he says abruptly. ‘Like I said, don’t rush back.’
Then he’s gone. And I realise I might have just lost my job.
Holding my breath, I stare at my phone, scarcely able to believe what I’ve done. Cold fear settles inside me; a new fear. Fear that I might actually be deranged, intent on self-destruction, annihilating all that is dear to me. My life is falling apart. I’m blaming Jason, blaming my father, but is it me? I’m ruining my life, Jason’s life, my children’s lives. I am losing everything, and I have no idea how to stop it.