She’d been emotionally delicate after Sarah’s death, alternating between withdrawal and raging grief in the months afterwards. Robert had been frightened for a while that she might tell the secret he’d made her promise to keep. She’d finally come to her senses when he’d pointed out that it wasn’t just her world that had been torn apart. His had too. Her mother’s had. Diana wasn’t coping with any of it because of her inability to move on, he’d explained to her carefully. Did she want to lose her mother too?
They hadn’t been as close since then, something that saddened Robert greatly. He’d hoped he might have more time to repair the damage between them, once she qualified at RADA. But then along came Jason Connolly, creating yet more complications. He would be gone soon. Robert consoled himself with that thought.
Deciding to leave greeting his grandchildren until he had their full attention, he shrugged out of his coat, hung it up and carried on towards the kitchen, from wherein wafted the smell of baking. Did the woman ever stop cooking? Robert was sure Diana had developed some sort of obsessive–compulsive disorder. If she wasn’t cooking, she was cleaning. It had started just before the funeral, and she hadn’t let up since. The only time she stopped being the world’s most conscientious housewife – she didn’t like being called that, so Robert tried to remember to avoid it – was when she slept. Back then, he’d lived in fear that she might leave him, not sure what he would do without her. He was confident she wouldn’t leave him now. She was still a fine-looking woman, but it was a sad fact of life that women of a certain age simply didn’t have any options.
He was about to walk into the kitchen, but then he paused, his brow knitted in consternation. Was Karla crying in there? He was sure she was. Because of Connolly? Had to be. What had that bastard done to her? About to march in and demand to know, Robert stopped himself short.
‘But why would he keep a photo of a semi-clad woman on his phone?’ he heard Karla ask tearfully. ‘Why didn’t he delete it? Never mind about me seeing it – one of the children could have. I just don’t understand what he’s thinking.’
Unbelievable. Rage growing inside him, Robert sucked in a deep breath and then expelled it slowly. Well, well, well. A slow smile curved his mouth. Her hero was playing away from home, it seemed. Karla had found some sort of evidence. There was no smoke without fire, as Robert had had pointed out to him. Deliberating, he considered how he might use this information. Jason being as stubborn as he was, it had previously occurred to Robert that Karla might stand by him even through the bankruptcy courts. She’d be highly unlikely to stand by a man who was cheating on her, though.
It was certainly something Robert could use, rather than resort to the drastic measures he’d thought he might require to convince Connolly why he shouldn’t be in Karla’s life. That could backfire drastically.
Yes, it was definitely worth consideration.
Arranging his face to appropriately concerned, as of course he would be, Robert pushed the door open and went in. She would be broken-hearted, naturally, but he felt it was his duty as a father to point out that leopards rarely changed their spots.
NINE
KARLA
I can’t believe that my father, the very last person I want to know about this, would walk into the kitchen at the precise second I’m crying my eyes out. Aware that my father hasn’t rated Jason since the day he discovered he’d ‘blighted’ my life, getting me pregnant – which was nothing to do with me, of course – I feel as if I’ve just handed him the dynamite with which to blow our marriage apart. He’s bound to say something to Jason about this, if only to wind him up. God, what have I done?
Mum reaches across the table for my hand as I exhale a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. ‘His friend sent it to him,’ she reminds me firmly. ‘It’s not like he’s been browsing these sites himself, for goodness’ sake. Don’t go rushing in, accusing him of anything without the facts, Karla. You’ll only end up arguing again.’
‘You’ve been arguing?’ my father asks, arching an eyebrow questioningly as he looks at me, and then down to Jason’s phone on the table, on which is the bloody photograph. I dearly wish I hadn’t said anything to Mum.
‘About my offering to help him out financially, presumably, before his business goes under?’ My father looks back at me, unimpressed.
‘No,’ I lie, in defence of my husband, and then backtrack. ‘Not that, exactly. Jason’s been worrying. Obviously, he has.’ Not least about what you might want in exchange for this financial help, I don’t say. ‘And when we got back from Mum’s birthday party, we found the babysitter had allowed Holly to watch unsuitable stuff on Netflix, and… Oh, I don’t know.’ I sigh, growing agitated and weary with it all – Dad’s tiresome crusade to prove Jason isn’t ‘good enough’ for me; Jason’s flat refusal to accept the help he clearly needs. This. I would never have spoken to Mum if I’d known my father was right outside the door. I shouldn’t have. I should have spoken to Jason first. I should never have gone behind his back and talked to my father about offering him a loan.
But then, Jason’s decisions affect my future too, and the children’s futures, I’d reasoned. I’ve supported Jason every step of the way while he’s been trying to build up his company, juggling the children and my job. I can’t work any harder. And, yes, I pulled away from him in bed last night, but only because I was upset and confused. I love Jason. I used to feel that I’d lost the other half of me. I found it in Jason. Found myself. I’ve never really gone for all that ‘he completes me’ stuff, but the truth is, Jason made me whole again. My father treated him contemptibly from the moment he met him, determined I shouldn’t marry him. Many other men would have been frightened off – or even paid off; I wouldn’t put my father above that. They would have probably thought they’d had a narrow escape. It wasn’t just my unplanned pregnancy, after all. It was Jason’s, too. His future to consider. Jason had considered. He was equally determined to stay. He loved me, he said. There was nothing my father could ever say or do to change that. He wasn’t going anywhere. Jason gave me the confidence to stand firm. Perhaps I could have without him. But I was stronger with him. Our love is stronger than this. I can’t make myself believe he’s cheated on me. He wouldn’t. We haven’t struggled for twelve years, through thick and thin, and made two beautiful children together, for Jason to throw it all away. He loves his kids without question. He wouldn’t.
‘It was my fault,’ I say to Mum, determined now to end the subject and not give my father any more ammunition. ‘I shouldn’t have brought the subject up at that time of night. I’m just too tired to think straight lately.’
‘Exhausted, I shouldn’t wonder, what with working almost full-time and two children to look after,’ my father says pointedly. ‘You’d think, with a wife and children he can barely support, he would have put his pride aside by now.’ Shaking his head, he picks up the phone and scrolls through it before I can stop him.
‘Dad!’ Jumping to my feet, I attempt to take it back. This has nothing to do with him. If he dares mention it…
‘Give it back, Robert.’ Mum gives him a warning glance. ‘It’s just a misunderstanding. It doesn’t need you interfering.’
My father’s expression is scathing as he sweeps his eyes over her. He’s not happy being told what to do, having his authority questioned. His employees are loyal because he pays them to be, but none of them ever dare to confront him.
‘Do you honestly believe Jason has been browsing these sites, Karla?’ Mum turns back to me. ‘That he’s contemplating doing so?’
‘No,’ I say, after a second, though part of me still isn’t sure.
‘Well, there you go then.’ Mum glances again at my father, who finally places the phone back on the table. ‘Speak to him when he gets back. You’ll no doubt find he’s full of apologies and devastated that you’re upset. Go home, get the children to bed early, crack open a bottle, and cuddle up in front of a film together. And steer clear of anything emotive. You
’re both too exhausted to see things objectively.’
She’s right. I’m getting things out of proportion. I’m so busy trying to avert a crisis, I’m creating one. I drag my hair back from my face. It’s a bedraggled mess, desperately in need of a cut and nothing like the soft, glossy curls of the woman I have imagined I’m competing with.
‘In fact, why don’t you let Holly and Josh stay over?’ Mum suggests, getting up to collect the mugs. ‘It will give you two some time together.’
‘No!’ I say quickly, grabbing the phone and my bag, ready to herd the kids up.
Her back to me, Mum stiffens visibly. I’ve hurt her feelings, but she knows I won’t let them stay over. She knows why, but she never speaks about it. It’s like it never happened. But it did.
My father turns away as I look at him, avoiding eye contact. I don’t need to wonder why.
‘I’ll go and drag them away from the TV. Maybe another time, Mum,’ I say brightly. When Dad’s away on one of his business trips, I don’t add.
She turns from the dishwasher, nods and smiles, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. How could there not be?
Going into the lounge, I maintain my false cheery demeanour. ‘Come on, you two,’ I say, clapping my hands to get their attention. ‘Time to go. Dad will be back soon.’
‘Aw, Mum…’ Josh looks around from where he’s lying on his tummy in front of the TV. ‘It’s only halfway through.’
‘It’s recorded,’ I remind him, my attention going to Holly, who’s curled up in the armchair, riveted to the screen, despite having taunted Josh on the way here, telling him Star Wars was for little kids. ‘If you both behave and get your skates on, we’ll stop off for takeaway on the way.’ I’m possibly overdoing the treats today, but cooking for four is not on my agenda tonight. A romantic meal for two and making love with my husband, however, definitely are.
‘Yay!’ Holly whoops, unfurling herself from the chair in a flash. ‘Pizza,’ she plumps for. ‘Triple pepperoni and cheese, stuffed crust.’
‘Epic meat feast.’ Josh scrambles up, the film forgotten in favour of his belly.
‘I bagsied first,’ says Holly.
‘You picked last time,’ Josh moans. ‘It’s my turn.’
‘No, it’s not. Dad picked last time,’ Holly informs him. ‘And anyway, I’m older than you, so I get to choose.’
‘We’ll have half and half.’ I offer them a compromise, averting the inevitable squabbling as I grab up Josh’s abandoned sweater.
Mum comes in behind me to pull the children into a hug. ‘Bye, you two. Be good for your mum.’ She kisses them in turn, and I feel guilty, yet again. I wish I could let my guard down and let them stay over – I know Mum would love it – but I can’t.
I’m reminded why as Dad appears, heading straight for the whisky bottle.
I watch him fill a large tumbler, take a sip and top it up, and my stomach immediately recoils. He’ll have several more. If he goes out to his club, several more when he comes back. The bedroom stank of whisky that night. He stank of whisky. Closing my eyes, I see him reeling and stumbling. He wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him Sarah wasn’t breathing properly. Beyond a certain point, he couldn’t even hear me. The smell of whisky was still there in the morning. No matter what he said, no matter what fictional story I corroborated, Mum must have known.
Downing his glass, my father watches Josh head towards the hall. ‘Don’t I get a hug?’ he asks him, and Josh immediately turns back to launch himself into his arms. ‘Bye, trooper.’ Squeezing him hard, Dad ruffles his hair before letting him go.
‘Bye, Grandad.’ Josh waves behind him as he scoots off to retrieve his trainers.
‘Holly?’ Dad glances after her.
‘Come on, Holly. Chop-chop.’ I allow my father a brief hug with Holly and then catch her by the arm and steer her to the door. ‘I want to get back in plenty of time to cook your dad something special tonight.’ I’m toying with the idea of wearing something special, too. The red dress I wore for our anniversary weekend in Paris, possibly. Jason said I looked sensational in it, adding that he couldn’t wait to get me out of it. I smile as I remember how mutual urgency overtook us and the location of our lovemaking dictated I keep the dress on.
‘Why?’ asks Josh, peering up through his Harry Potter specs from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the hall floor. Clearly, he’s figured out that stuffing his feet into trainers without unlacing them is not conducive to getting them on any quicker.
‘Because he’s been working very hard,’ I supply, shooting my father, who’s followed me out, a pointed look over my shoulder.
Mum sees us to the door, where I pause to give her a firm hug. ‘See you next week,’ I say, smiling and then kissing her cheek.
‘Bye, sweetheart,’ my father says behind me.
‘Bye,’ I answer. I know he’ll be looking disappointed he doesn’t get a hug too. I don’t look back.
TEN
JASON
Great! Jason groaned inwardly. First, he rings him – on a Saturday – not asking, but demanding he go to his office. Then he turns up at his house. The man was bloody well haunting him. As he looked at Robert’s car, parked in front of his home, Jason wondered whether to turn around and go back to his office, particularly as Fenton had had the gall to block his drive. No doubt there was a not-so-subtle message therein. That being that he was entitled to park where he liked, since he’d paid for the house. Prick.
About to park behind the car, a gleaming Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupe, which would have cost upwards of a hundred grand, Jason reversed sharply, pulling around to park in front of it instead. He was being juvenile, but he was sick to his back teeth of standing in the great Robert Fenton’s shadow. Would the man not just stay out of their lives? It was the weekend. Could they never be free of him? Granted, Jason wasn’t where he should be – at home with his family – but he would quite like to be now, and that picture most definitely didn’t include his sodding father-in-law.
So, what was he doing here? Stupid question. After climbing out of his car, Jason slammed the door and headed past Fenton’s statement car and along the drive he hadn’t been allowed access to. He was obviously in there trying to influence Karla, just like he’d tried so hard to persuade her not to marry him. Jason felt the same repulsion he’d felt back then, when he’d overheard him asking her if she couldn’t have found someone more suitable to give her virginity to. He’d been sick to his soul, listening to him trying to manipulate her, coercing her, as he did to so many people: staff too scared to stand up to him; young women who he sexually harassed, for Christ’s sake. And Karla knew damn well he did. She’d seen him last night with her own eyes. Yet still she refused to discuss it whenever Jason tried to point out he was not the kind of man he wanted dealings with of any sort, let alone in his kids’ lives. Why the hell had she let him just waltz in tonight? Jason supposed she couldn’t have texted him to warn him he was here, since he’d left his phone at home, but surely she must realise that her father was the last person he wanted to see after their argument about him when they’d arrived home from the party? They’d slept in separate rooms. They’d argued about him most of their married life. How plain could Jason make it that he did not want him here?
Shoving his key into the lock, he laughed cynically as realisation dawned. He really was being dense, wasn’t he? Karla had obviously invited him. Hadn’t she approached her father regarding a business loan in the first place, forgetting to mention that she’d done so? Robert must have rung her, telling her he’d refused his ‘invitation’ to meet at his office, and so Karla had arranged for them to have a nice cosy conversation here. In front of her. And the kids.
Not happening, Karla. No bloody way. Jason resisted slamming the front door, dumped his laptop on the hall table, yanked off his jacket and tried to quash his immense agitation. Holly and Josh were already on to the fact that things were not great between him and Karla. He wasn’t going to lose it in front of t
hem. Wouldn’t Fenton just love that? It would present him with the perfect opportunity to point out how uncaring of his family he was.
He guessed his anger was pretty apparent, however, by Karla’s nervous expression as she stepped from the lounge into the hall.
‘Dad’s here,’ she said, her eyes flitting back to the lounge door.
‘Really?’ Jason looked at her in mock surprise. ‘I would never have known from the fucking great status symbol blocking the drive outside.’
‘Jason.’ Karla glanced quickly towards the stairs.
Guessing the kids were up there, Jason tugged in a tight breath and reminded himself to watch his language. ‘Are they in bed?’ he asked, glancing up after her and then checking his watch.
‘They have an hour to read before lights off,’ Karla said, reaching to ease the lounge door to. ‘Can we talk?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know, Karla.’ Jason looked back at her, his jaw tensing. ‘Can we?’
Looking as weary as he felt, Karla sighed heavily and turned towards the kitchen.
Jason followed. He supposed the fact that she wanted to prepare him before pushing him into the lion’s den was at least something. She should know, though, that whatever forecasts of doom her loving father had tried to influence her with, he wasn’t going to go for it. He would rather walk out now than keep arguing with Karla over this. Which would, of course, be giving Fenton exactly what he wanted. How would the man feel if he actually did that? Jason couldn’t help but wonder. Having fought so hard to get him out of Karla’s life, he had no doubt he would revel in his victory, but would he have any remorse, any sense of shame at all, that he might have done it at the cost of his daughter’s happiness, his grandchildren’s? Jason didn’t think so. Robert Fenton didn’t care whose emotions he trampled on to get what he wanted. He had one aim in life, and that was to win at whatever cost.
The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Page 6
