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’ll help,’ I sighed, as he dumped his mug in the dishwasher and headed for the door. Friday’s being his busiest days, he’d already been stressed. I probably should have chosen my moment more wisely. I didn’t dare mention that I’d already broached the idea with my father. I shouldn’t have done that either – Jason’s bound to see it as going behind his back – but what other choice do we have? Him burying his head in the sand isn’t going to pay the mortgage. A mortgage my father has no knowledge of. When we got married, I’d been pregnant and Jason hadn’t been earning much, so my father had paid outright for our house. He’s so loaded, he would never miss the money, but the situation does little to alleviate Jason’s frustration. There’s no way on God’s green earth he’s ever going to go cap in hand to his father-in-law again, and my job as a personal assistant and officer manager doesn’t pay enough to cover much more than the domestic bills. I never did manage to pick up my acting career. It’s a horribly ageist industry, and I realised it was an unrealistic aspiration, particularly when, soon after having Holly, I fell pregnant with Josh.
I watch Jason now, noting the tense set of his jaw. He’s definitely irked.
My father, seemingly oblivious and still standing in front of him like an immovable mountain, takes a leisurely swig of his whisky, and then, ‘You should overhaul your finances, take a look at income versus expenditure.’ He takes another swig and points his glass at him.
I’m only grateful smoking’s banned. In times past, he would have been taking a puff of his cigar and blowing smoke all over Jason, infuriatingly.
‘You could use my accountant,’ my father goes on, regardless of Jason’s now stony expression. ‘This guy’s on the ball. You’d be amazed at what he can chalk up to expenses. Why don’t I give him a—’
‘No.’ Jason cuts him short. ‘Thanks, Robert’ – he forces a smile – ‘but I’m happy with the accountant I have.’
My father arches an eyebrow dubiously, but doesn’t comment, thank God. ‘Well, if you change your mind…’ Shaking his head in that despairing way he does, he reaches into his inside jacket pocket. ‘Here, let me give you his card.’
Time to interrupt, I suspect. ‘Dad, it’s supposed to be a birthday party, for goodness’ sake, not a business meeting.’ Relieving Jason of my wine glass, I shoot my father a warning glance. I’ve made him promise not to mention that I’ve spoken to him about a loan. I’ll never forgive him if he does. ‘Stop talking shop,’ I urge him, ‘and get over there and keep Mum company – or she’ll be leaving tonight with her toy boy.’