Closing his eyes, Jason nodded regretfully and supressed an urge to go to her and hold her.

‘To be with some online… slut?’ Karla stared at him, her eyes now a kaleidoscope of emotion, from shock through to heart-wrenching, palpable hurt.

Jason kneaded his forehead. He didn’t answer. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t lead to yet another argument.

‘When?’ Karla demanded, lifting her chin, her eyes narrowing.

‘Soon.’ Jason glanced guiltily away. Whether or not there was any future with Jessie, he had no choice. How the hell was he supposed to tell Karla that? ‘Today.’

‘Now? While the kids are at school? Without telling them?’ Karla’s expression was one of astonishment, and then her eyes darkened. ‘Coward!’ she screamed suddenly, causing him to step back.

The coffee jug she launched across the room missed him by millimetres, splintering against the wall to send sharp slivers of glass shooting across the floor. The mug hit its target, white-hot pain searing through his cheekbone as it glanced off his face.

‘Karla! Stop!’ Raising his hands to defend himself, Jason backed into the hall.

‘Get out!’ she seethed, raising the milk bottle, the next thing that came to hand.

‘Karla, don’t,’ Jason tried. ‘Don’t do this. Please, for the kids’ sakes, can’t we just—?’

‘The kids?’ She stared at him, her blue eyes wild. ‘The kids? Go!’ she screamed, louder. ‘Now! You complete bastard!’

Jason was shaken. He’d hurt her, in the worst possible way a man could hurt a woman, but he hadn’t considered she would be capable of actual violence. Seeing her gaze sweep the kitchen, probably searching for a more suitable weapon, he backed further away, pressing the back of his hand gingerly to his cheek.

He hadn’t intended to take much. Essentials, that was all. A couple of hastily packed bags were already in the boot of his car. He’d aimed to stay at a hotel while Jessie was with her family. Now, he was wondering whether he should contact her to let her know he wouldn’t be able to pick her up from the airport. He couldn’t leave Karla like this. Jesus. He stopped on the stairs, panic rising inside him, as he heard cupboards opening and slamming, crockery smashing. Drawers opening, contents spewing out to clang noisily to the ceramic floor. Cutlery?

Shit. Imagining her selecting the sharpest knife she could find, he debated whether to call someone. Who? Her mother had gone off somewhere, seeking sanctuary from the press. Should he ring the police? God, no. He couldn’t do that. Hearing her sobbing downstairs as he reached the bedroom, Jason felt the guilt he’d been carrying threaten to rise up and choke him.