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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

‘All of the seas,’ Jason assures me, wiping the blood from my mouth with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t leave me, Karla,’ he begs, a tear falling from his eyelashes as he lowers his forehead gently to mine. ‘I can’t climb this mountain without you. Please forgive me.’

Can I?

Epilogue

DIANA

His lips had still held the sweet piquancy of forbidden fruit: Michael Kinsella. Karla and Sarah had adored him. In her mind’s eye, Diana could see the girls walking with him on one of their outings. Just five years old, they’d placed their tiny hands trustingly in Michael’s as they skipped along beside him, chattering excitedly as they went.

Robert had been away, on one of his business trips, where he would no doubt wine and dine and bed his latest conquest. They’d been going on the popular Blossom Trail that day. She hadn’t talked of Robert. Michael hadn’t talked of his wife. They’d simply enjoyed each other’s company, the ice cream, the picnic she’d prepared.

Closing her eyes, Diana recalled Karla and Sarah sitting opposite Michael, their earnest eyes fixed on his, their faces a picture of studiousness as they’d watched him. Michael’s melodic laughter – she heard it as Karla emulated him, carefully enunciating each roll and lilt of his accent. She’d been a budding little actor even then: inventing stories; performing plays in the back garden and inviting the neighbourhood children. And charging them for the show, Diana remembered, her mouth curving into a smile. Robert had said she was taking after him.

Diana’s heart saddened at the thought of her husband. His reputation had meant everything to him, more than any woman ever could. That was gone now. She still didn’t know the whole truth about what had happened on the night Sarah had died. She wished she hadn’t banned Robert from the marital bed whenever he’d been drinking. But it was what it was. She couldn’t undo it. She’d carried her guilt. He’d carried his. Perhaps, when Karla was stronger, she would be able to visit her at the hospital and ask her.

Assuming Karla would talk to her. Assuming she wasn’t in prison. Would Michael visit her if she was, she wondered? He would. He’d always been there for her. That was the thing about love, she supposed: it knew no restraints. She wished she could have learned to love Robert a little better.

At least now the media couldn’t hound him to his grave. That was one small mercy.

Wishing he might rest peacefully in death where he never had in life, Diana slipped on her coat – and turned to accompany the police officers through the throng of reporters to the waiting car.