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
That would be perfect. You’re an angel. Diana smiled, pleased that she would have a little extra to add to the quite considerable sum she’d already accumulated. Having to sleep with Robert’s accountant had been an odious chore – the man was a lecherous old reptile, definitely one of Robert’s ilk – but necessary in order to achieve her aim. It really was quite amazing what a man was prepared to do in order to prevent his ‘indiscretions’ being found out.
That’s what friends are for, Julie assured her. Take care. X
You too. X
Diana then set about chopping the courgettes with new vigour. Yes, doing something practical definitely made her feel better.
Forty-One
JASON
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Jason glanced up the stairs, glad Karla hadn’t heard the phone ringing, or worse, answered it. It had been a reporter. There’d been rumblings in the papers, hints about a certain businessman’s nefarious activities. It wouldn’t be long before the story broke, the guy had said. Did Karla have any comments, he’d wanted to know? Jason had said he thought not, but had given him a choice one of his own.
Christ, how would she handle it when it did break? Robert Fenton deserved all he got, but Karla didn’t deserve any of this. Their kids didn’t. He’d have to warn them about answering the phone.
Checking his watch, he realised they were late – again. He headed back to the kitchen, fetched the juice from the fridge and slammed Josh’s porridge into the microwave. He was retrieving cutlery from the useless dishwasher to wash when he realised he’d forgotten to time the porridge correctly.
Dammit. Jason swung around to grab it before it was cremated, and then – ‘Shit!’ He cursed loudly and shook his burned fingers as the hot dish hit the floor.
‘Daddy, language,’ Holly chastised him, from where she sat at the breakfast table.
‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ Jason shrugged apologetically. She looked tired, he noticed. Her hair was a mess. She’d had two buns on top of her head when she’d come down, which Josh had felt obliged to point out made her look like Mickey Mouse. Holly had growled at him and decided on two braids instead, which she’d asked Jason to help her with. She might as well have asked him to knit her a jumper.
Unimpressed with his hairdressing skills, she’d finally settled on a simple headband instead, dragging it through her hair without actually utilising the brush. She wasn’t looking any more impressed now – unenthusiastically stirring her porridge, which had probably solidified.
Grabbing up the milk, Justin carried it over and tipped some in her dish. He noted the despairing roll of her eyes as he did. ‘I’ll do better tomorrow,’ he promised, giving her shoulders a squeeze.