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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

But wasn’t he doing just that? His marriage was over – it couldn’t survive now – but didn’t making plans to build a new life so far away mean he was taking risks with his children’s future? He was their father. He was responsible for them, their health and happiness. He had yet to tell Karla he was going. Having made arrangements to meet Jessie’s incoming flight and then fly back to Ireland with her, once she’d visited her family here, he had no choice now but to tell Karla.

Whether he would get on the flight, though, he wasn’t yet sure. The way Karla was behaving now, he wasn’t confident he could leave Holly and Josh safely in her care, particularly with her mother having left her shit of a father for a safe haven of her own away from the media.

Dammit. He needed to talk to Karla, but how, when they were barely speaking? When they did, it was only to argue. He would have to find a way, assuming she came home before he left for the airport tomorrow, that was. He wouldn’t come back to the house while Jessie was here. That wouldn’t be fair on Karla or Jessie.

Forty-Six

KARLA

I wake with the stale taste of alcohol and cigarette smoke in my mouth. My stomach churns, but I’m too queasy to trust myself to make it to the bathroom. Prising my grainy eyelids open, I squint towards the window. I’m in the Travelodge, I realise. I grope for some recollection of how I got here and then squeeze my eyes closed, mortification crashing through me as I recall stumbling drunkenly into a taxi, spilling from it here with a beer bottle in my hand.

I fell. I swallow back my shame as an image of an out-of-control, brazenly dressed woman weaving across the car park assaults me. I lift my hand. The sharp shards of grit embedded in my palm confirm it.

My eyes stray to the window. It’s still early. By the thin blue light filtering through the blind, I judge that it’s approaching dawn. There’s no birdsong to greet it; just the distant rumble of traffic on the dual carriageway. But then, there’s been no birdsong in my life since my marriage began to crumble; no sunshine. Just this cold, empty bleakness that surrounds me and seems to reside inside me.

My gaze travels to the bland, cream-coloured walls. The room is still spinning, though not with the nauseating merry-go-round momentum it did last night. More like a slowly turning roundabout in some sad, forgotten park. I can almost hear the haunting laughter of the children who’ve abandoned it.