The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller

by Sheryl Browne

  Pulling off the drive, he turned in the direction Karla had taken, heading towards the dual carriageway. Was she going into town to meet friends there, he wondered, as he picked up her car and followed her at a safe distance.

  Fifteen minutes later, he had his answer, and wished to God that he didn’t, because there was only one reason Karla would be checking in to a Travelodge. Her story of ‘staying over at a girlfriend’s’ was bullshit.

  His heart beating unsteadily in a combination of anger and jealousy, Jason parked discreetly on the opposite side of the car park. Praying he didn’t see anyone arrive and follow her in –anyone male, that was – he settled down to wait until he saw her come out.

  His gut twisted as he took in the clothes she was wearing: a short, tight black dress that accentuated her figure and thigh-high leather boots that made her legs look as if they went on forever. She got into a taxi and he trailed her to a trendy wine bar. He waited five minutes and then followed her in, feeling sick to his soul. She was at the bar, with one hand pressed to the chest of some smooth-looking bastard who was wasting no time in trailing his hand down her back to the base of her spine, and lower. Who was he? Someone she was seeing? Her hook-up for the night? Jason laughed sardonically. The hotel room was already conveniently booked. Fuck!

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  KARLA

  I am immensely relieved he looks like a regular guy. Standing three or four inches taller than me, he’s wearing black boots and black chinos, with a white T-shirt over a tidy torso. As in his photos, he has a hint of a beard, dark hair. I smile my approval. He seems nice enough. Normal.

  I couldn’t go through with it the first time. My stomach had been a tight ball of nerves, my heart banging against my chest and my head screaming at me to run. In the end, with enough wine consumed to numb my emotions and free my inhibitions, I’d simply closed my eyes and tried to go with the flow, hoping it would allow me to escape from the pain of my husband’s infidelity. It hadn’t. The pain was still there, pressing down on my chest as heavily as the stranger on top of me. Mercifully, he’d been understanding. He might not have been. I’m aware of the danger.

  My ‘date’ pulls me closer, indicating he’s interested in more than the dance. For now, in this moment, he wants me. I am desired, needed, if only for one night. And when the night is over, we will go our separate ways. He will move on, another piece of me will be gone and I will go home to my children.

  I try to detach from my emotions, to lose myself on the dance floor, where I can be anyone I want to be. Anyone but me. But as I raise my arms in the air, desperate for the enticing rhythm of the music to transport me to another place, I am seized by a crushing sense of anxiety. The thud of the bass coming through the huge sound system grows too loud, each thump causing my heart to pump manically, my blood to whoosh through my temples. The strobes are too bright. Searing white light. The overabundance of beer and perfume too cloying.

  With my heart feeling as if it might burst from my chest, I push myself away from the man opposite me and squeeze through the throng of bodies now gyrating as one. My legs are like butter beneath me. One hand against the wall, I squint, trying to gain some equilibrium as I make my way to the toilets. Rough hands grab me, righting me as I reel. Someone laughs, a loud, raucous laugh, right next to my ear. He shouts something unintelligible. I can’t hear anything now but the boom, boom inside me, can’t feel anything but the panic that claws its way up my throat. I can’t breathe.

  Focus. I plead with my body not to fail me as I stumble on. My foot goes over; a sharp pain shoots through my ankle. Stupid boots. Thigh-high boots. Mutton undressed. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home with my children. My chest twists painfully as I recall my little boy’s closed body language as I tried to say goodbye to him before I left. His eyes fixed to his iPad, he refused even to look at me. Holly, my precious little girl – I see her expression, the unbridled accusation in her eyes as she stared mutely at me. For a second, she looked at me just the way Sarah did, as if I was a traitor. I am. No matter how much I try to deny it, I was the catalyst that set this ball rolling. Constantly badgering Jason to take money from my father belittled him as much as my father himself had. He wanted to destroy our marriage. But it was me who lit the fuse that blew it all apart.

  And now I’m losing my husband.

  I am sweating, profusely, perspiration wetting my forehead, face and chest, wet polyester plastered to my back like snakeskin. But I’m not writhing and wriggling. I’m not dancing. I am clutching the sink for support in the toilets, and I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home, lying in the arms of a man I know I’ll be safe with. Would have been, once, if only I’d been there for him.

  TWENTY-NINE

  JASON

  Jason paid Megan and thanked her, just managing a smile as he closed the door behind her, gulping back the tears he felt like weeping. He couldn’t do that, not here, with his children so close. He glanced up at the ceiling, blinking hard, willing himself to stay in control. He needed to check on Holly, make sure she was sleeping. He hadn’t even said hello to her when he’d come home earlier. He moved along the hall and swung up the stairs. She knew what was going on, that their marriage was irretrievably broken. They both did.

  After tapping on her door and getting no answer, he eased it open, and his heart sank to a whole new level. Holly was asleep, or else feigning sleep. She had her pink Build-A-Bear tucked under her arm. Swallowing hard, Jason closed the door quietly. Realising his little girl needed comforting, and that he couldn’t offer her that comfort – tell her everything was going to be all right, which would be an out-and-out lie – he stayed where he was for a second, cursing himself, and then headed for the stairs, where he finally gave in to his urge to cry.

  He was trying to resist the urge to get so drunk he would be incapable of thinking the dark thoughts going around in his head – primarily of ripping Robert Fenton’s cold heart from his chest – when he decided to message Jessie. Talking to someone, about anything, might just save his sanity. Whether it was right or wrong to be talking to her really wasn’t an issue any more, was it, he thought, his gut wrenching afresh as he pictured his wife, and what she might now be doing with another man.

  Is this a good time for you? he typed. He hesitated briefly and then hit send.

  She didn’t reply immediately, causing his heart to plummet, and then – Can do.

  Jason was relieved. At that time of night, he’d wondered whether she would answer. Fancy talking properly on the phone? he asked her.

  There was another short pause, then, OK, she sent, but I have a thick Irish brogue. Born in Cork, worked in Donegal for a while. Am told accent sexy but hard to understand. Also, night off so out with the girls. Birthday bash. Teensy bit inebriated, therefore.

  I’ll listen carefully, Jason sent back.

  Send me your number. I’ll find a quiet spot. Call you in five, Jessie replied.

  Jason keyed in his number and went to the conservatory, lest the kids wander down and overhear. He hoped she did call. He couldn’t reveal details or tell her the insane nature of the personal issues he was dealing with, but he needed to be as straight with her as he could. He hoped that, after that, she would want to keep in contact. He had no idea whether it had a future, or even what he wanted from this other than a friend he could talk to outside of the complete disaster that was his life.

  Five minutes later, his phone rang. ‘Jason Connolly,’ he answered cautiously.

  ‘Hey, Jason Connolly,’ a female voice said cheerily. ‘So, what’re you up to, apart from waiting for phone calls from strange women?’ It was her, judging by the light lyrical accent, which was definitely sexy and also definitely had a slight slur to it.

  ‘Nothing earth-shattering,’ Jason said, wondering what to tell her. The truth, he reminded himself. There could be no future based on lies. He’d learned that only too well. ‘I’ve just been upstairs, checking on my kids.’

  ‘Ahh,’ Jessie
said, a wary edge to her voice. ‘Kids, as in… how many?’

  ‘Two,’ Jason said, already bracing himself for her to say goodbye. ‘A girl and a boy, aged eleven and ten.’

  Jessie took a second. ‘And they live with you?’ she asked, her tone indicating she’d guessed that wasn’t the case.

  ‘No.’ Jason faltered and then pushed on. ‘That is… I’m still living in the marital home.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, followed by another short silence. ‘You’re not separated then?’

  ‘We are,’ Jason assured her. ‘Very much so. It’s just…’

  ‘Complex?’ Jessie supplied, diplomatically avoiding the ‘it’s complicated’ cliché.

  ‘Extremely,’ he said, and waited.

  ‘Care to share?’ Jessie asked him, after a beat. ‘You don’t have to, if you’d rather not, but I’m a good listener if you need an ear.’

  And now Jason really had no idea where to start. For Karla’s sake, he didn’t want any of what he’d learned about his relationship with her to get out. There was no reason it should, but even so. ‘I’m… not who my wife thinks I am,’ he said, which sounded evasive – ominous, even – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

  ‘Are any of us ever?’ Jessie replied, sounding unfazed.

  Jason shook his head. ‘I guess not, no.’

  ‘Do you still care for her?’ Jessie asked intuitively.

  ‘Very much,’ Jason answered straight off.

  Jessie hesitated. ‘As in, you’re still in love with her?’

  ‘Honestly…’ Sighing deeply, Jason kneaded his temple. ‘I don’t know. I realise that sounds ridiculous, but… The thing is, I found out something about her that means I can’t love her, not in the way she needs me to.’

  ‘Oh hell.’ Jessie’s voice was sympathetic. ‘She cheated on you, I take it?’

  ‘No. No, she didn’t,’ Jason said quickly, his stomach tightening into a fist. She hadn’t before now, and he tried to hold on to that certainty – the one thing in this mess he thought he could hold on to.

  ‘It must have been something bad though,’ Jessie suggested tentatively. ‘For it to have caused the two of you to split up, I mean. She’s not a mass murderer, is she?’

  ‘Definitely not that,’ Jason assured her. Karla couldn’t hurt a fly. She’d once cried when she found a dead mouse in the garage. She was terrified of mice, but she’d cried anyway, which had perplexed him. ‘It’s… something to do with her history.’

  ‘I see,’ Jessie said, after a thoughtful second. ‘But you don’t want to say what?’

  Jason drew in a breath and then exhaled slowly. ‘That wouldn’t be fair on her.’

  It all sounded nuts, he realised. It was nuts. If Jessie had any sense, she would end the call and cut her losses. Not that she would have lost much.

  ‘Jessie, please accept my apologies,’ he went on, after pausing to try and collect his thoughts. ‘I didn’t mean to string you along. I like you. A lot, as it happens. You’re beautiful, smart, witty.’

  ‘Keep going.’ Jessie laughed uncertainly.

  ‘My personal life is a mess, Jessie. I would very much like to offer you what you might be looking for, but I don’t want to end up hurting you. If you’d rather not have anything to do with me, then… Well, I understand.’

  Jessie went quiet again. She was obviously thinking it through, and thinking she’d had a close call.

  ‘Definitely complex, isn’t it?’ she said, at length. ‘Look, Jason, if you want to stop whatever this is we’re doing, that’s fine. I get it. But, just so you know, I like you a lot too. You seem nice, honest and caring.’

  Jason laughed ironically. He doubted that would be Karla’s estimation of him.

  ‘I’m not looking to go golden rings here,’ Jessie went on. ‘I’m looking for someone to talk with, have a bit of a laugh with. I’m thinking you’re looking for the same. What say we keep talking, and then, when your situation is less complex, maybe we can take it further? What do you think?’

  Now Jason was definitely surprised. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ he said, relieved and amazed she would want to spend any time at all on him.

  ‘Great.’ Jessie sounded pleased. ‘You might have to swim the Irish Sea to do the hooking-up bit though.’

  ‘No problem,’ Jason said, smiling. ‘I think you actually might be worth swimming an ocean for, Jessie.’

  ‘Oh, that I am,’ Jessie assured him. ‘Did I tell you I was a gift from God?’ she said, her voice full of playful innuendo. ‘That’s what my name means.’

  ‘You’re definitely that,’ Jason said softly. She was saving him from a life that seemed close to insanity.

  THIRTY

  DIANA

  When Karla hadn’t come over on Saturday with the children as she usually did, Diana had tried not to worry too much about it. Her daughter’s life had been turned upside down, after all. She wasn’t likely to be carrying on as normal with her marriage falling apart. She’d texted her on Sunday, receiving a short text back: I’m fine, Mum. Just a bit off colour. Will call you later.

  She hadn’t called. And now Diana was worried, especially after ringing her office that morning to be told she was off sick. Karla didn’t do sick days. Knowing she might have to take time off at short notice if one of the children were ill, she would drag herself into work if required. Diana had begun to grow concerned when Karla told her she’d been vile to the people who worked under her. That wasn’t Karla. Even as a small child, she’d been a considerate, gentle soul, less inclined to the attention-seeking that Sarah was prone to. Thoughtful to the point of introversion sometimes, and perhaps a little dominated by her sister. By Robert, too. Both girls were.

  Immediately transported back to the awful day that had obliterated any feelings she might still have had for Robert, Diana closed her eyes, a familiar nausea sweeping through her as she relived the nightmare: Karla on her knees, hysterical, shaking uncontrollably. Diana’s gaze travelling past her to Sarah, lying so still and cold, she’d instantly known her soul had departed this world. Sweeping Karla up – a mother instinctively protecting her young – she’d squeezed her tight and tried to console her. She’d barely heard her choked whisper: ‘He killed her. He killed her.’

  Karla had never repeated it. To this day, Diana had never been able to persuade her to.

  Attempting to vanquish the memory, she checked her phone again, hoping to see a text or missed call from her. There was nothing, which left her no choice but to ring Jason. Diana still hadn’t managed to establish exactly what had gone on when he’d met with Robert, and therefore had no idea what reception she might get. If she didn’t get answers from him regarding Karla’s whereabouts and well-being, she would have to drive over to the house. She couldn’t rest until she knew she was safe.

  ‘Jason’s phone,’ someone answered, eventually. A female. A young female.

  Diana checked her watch, noting that it was now well past five thirty, and her heart dropped. Surely he wasn’t actually meeting up with the women Karla had claimed he was chatting to on dating sites? Diana had been sure that, no matter what was going on between him and Karla, he would never be cruel enough to do something like that. ‘Sorry, who is this?’ she asked tersely.

  ‘Rachel,’ the girl supplied. ‘I work with Jason. He’s in a meeting just now with a colleague. Can I get him to call you back?’

  He was in his office. She’d imagined he wouldn’t be, since he’d been forced to put the wheels in motion to sell the business, all thanks to her despicable husband. Diana felt a huge surge of relief. She hadn’t wanted to be so wrong about him.

  ‘Could you interrupt him for me?’ she asked the young woman. ‘It’s his mother-in-law here. I wouldn’t ask, but it is urgent.’

  A minute later, Jason came on. ‘Diana?’ he said, his tone wary. ‘Rachel said it was urgent.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Karla. She’s not returning my calls and I’m worried to death
,’ Diana explained quickly. ‘Jason, where are the children?’

  ‘Here, with me,’ Jason said, and Diana’s heart settled clunkily back into its moorings. ‘Karla’s… got some kind of a bug,’ he went on. ‘Look, don’t panic, Diana. I spoke to her not long ago about the kids. She’s probably put her phone on silent since then. I’ll finish up here and go straight home.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Diana said, her voice shaky. ‘And you’ll call me if there’s a problem?’

  ‘I promise,’ Jason assured her.

  Diana nodded. She hadn’t been wrong about him. Whatever he was doing with these silly dating apps, at his core he was a good man, she was certain he was. ‘Jason, about the meeting you had with Robert,’ she said hesitantly, ‘did he—?’

  ‘I’d rather not discuss it, Diana,’ Jason cut in bluntly. ‘I’m sorry, but I’d prefer not to.’

  ‘I see. It’s none of my business, I know, but I just…’ Diana faltered. She wasn’t inclined to expose her vulnerabilities, but she needed to get to the bottom of what Robert had disclosed to him before putting in motion any wheels of her own, which she’d no choice but to do if she was going to help her daughter. ‘I need to know, Jason. To understand what’s going on in his head. Did he offer you the money?’

  Jason didn’t immediately answer, then, ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

  ‘And you refused it?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Jason’s tone was short.

  ‘But why? When you’d gone there ready to accept a loan, why would you turn it down?’

  Again, Jason paused. ‘You don’t know about me then?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘Know what?’ Cold foreboding travelled the length of Diana’s spine.

  ‘You should talk to Robert. You need to,’ Jason said. ‘I have to go.’

  Realising he’d ended the call, Diana placed her phone on the breakfast table and stared at it. Surely, Robert hadn’t done what the sick feeling inside her told her he had? Why? After all these years? Damn the man. Could he not just have let sleeping dogs lie?