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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

Destabilised, with apprehension creeping through me, I don’t try to stop him going. There’s no point demanding explanations. He will refuse point-blank to discuss anything to do with my father, and this has to be about him.

Grabbing my phone from my bag, I call my mother, my tummy clenching with a combination of nerves and nausea as I wonder whether she knows something I don’t. Something Jason has confided in her? Something she’s been keeping from me? She wouldn’t, surely?

Her phone goes to voicemail. Impatiently, I text her. And then, receiving no response, I call her again. Nothing. Ten minutes later, I’m halfway to my car when my phone beeps. I read the message twice, and then stare at it, stupefied.

I’ve left your father, it says. I need to get away from the attention. We need to talk, darling, but first I need a little time. Can you give me that?

Time? For what? My hands shake as I text quickly back: Where are you?

The airport, she replies, after a pause. Going to stay with a friend for a while. Will be in touch soon.

The airport? Which airport? What friend. Where? I try again to call her. Again, her phone goes to voicemail. And now I’m growing desperate. I don’t want her to ‘be in touch soon’. I need to be in touch with her now. I need her to be here. I have no one else. No one.

Throwing myself in my car, I drive frantically to my parents’ house. Something’s happened. Is this what Jason meant? Is he aware of something I’m not? Yet more worms crawling out of the woodwork regarding my father? Even with the press interest, the stories in the papers, my mum wouldn’t just go. After all this time staying with him, she wouldn’t go now unless something awful had happened to make her.

Turning into my parents’ road, I slow, glancing towards their house with deep apprehension. It’s beautiful, a grand three-storey Georgian house, with picturesque views overlooking the park from the back windows. When she was alive, Sarah and I had shared the attic bedroom on the third floor, the room with the best views. We used to sit outside on the wide window ledge on hot summer days, telling each other stories, dreaming and dangling our feet. It should have been paradise. It turned into a nightmare. For a second, I’m back there, waiting outside the house on the day of the funeral. But the people congregated here now are not here to mourn, to stand and watch the hearse arrive in respectful silence. Jostling each other, running towards me, this crowd is hungry, ready to close in for the kill.