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
Pulling his gaze away, he walked on. ‘They were discussing the merits of the young man Karla was dancing with at Diana’s party versus yours afterwards,’ he imparted, over his shoulder. ‘I didn’t interrupt. Girl-talk. More than I dare do.’
Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, Jason watched him swagger on towards the golf club entrance. Tried to assimilate. Breathing hard, he stayed where he was for several seconds, acrid grief crashing through him as he felt his world crumbling around him.
He felt hollow inside as he walked back to his car, numb from the inside out. He barely flinched as his passenger wing hit one of the bollards at the exit as he trod on the accelerator and screeched out of the car park.
Arriving at his office a couple of hours later, Jason placed the bottle of whisky he’d purchased on the desk, plunged his hands into his pockets and stared down at his laptop. It was still in the same position as when he’d walked out, yanked around to face the doorway. It was strange how, despite his whole life being turned upside down, his innards being ripped out, everything looked exactly the same as it had yesterday and the day before that. He felt almost as if he could simply push the hands of the clock back and make all the shit go away. But he couldn’t, could he? It just kept on coming.
He’d always wondered about his roots. And now he knew. He’d been spawned by an abomination of a man. Born to a woman he could only suppose had been on the receiving end of Fenton’s abusive behaviour. He should never have happened. Karla and him, they should never have happened.
His kids…
Jesus. Swaying slightly on his feet, Jason pressed a hand against the back of his neck and glanced up at the ceiling. No point looking up there, he supposed. He must have done something beyond abhorrent in another life. He looked back to the whisky. After downing several beers with whisky chasers at the pub, he’d splashed out and bought a bottle of the good stuff: 18 year old Glenfiddich. If he was going to drink himself to death, he was going to do it in style.
Might as well live up to his reputation, he’d decided, and be the loser he obviously was – a cheating, lying failure and obviously a complete bastard. He hadn’t needed Karla to confirm that. Smiling cynically, Jason picked up the bottle, twirled his computer around, negotiated his way unsteadily to his chair and dropped heavily down into it.