The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller

by Sheryl Browne

  Swallowing back the acrid taste of fear in her mouth, Diana pulled herself from her chair and headed towards the lounge. She didn’t drink often, but she felt in need of a medicinal brandy. Up until these last few weeks, she’d bided her time, seeing Michael to keep her sanity alive whenever she could, and made preparations, sure that Robert’s day of reckoning would come. She hadn’t imagined she would have to be instrumental in ensuring that it did, and sooner rather than later. Diana had thought she’d prepared herself; that she would be emotionally ready for the fallout when the news broke, as she had always known it might. Now, she wasn’t entirely certain.

  But she had no choice, she reminded herself. She would have to find a way to establish that Robert had done the unimaginably callous thing she had long suspected him of. She wasn’t sure how she would do it – he would lie through his teeth – but she would. And if he had opened that ugly can of worms, then he would suffer the consequences.

  Passing through the hall, her attention was caught by a silhouette in the opaque glass in the front door. Someone hovering outside? Diana’s heart leapt into her throat. A slim figure – a woman, it appeared – now turning away from the door.

  Stepping closer, she made sure the chain was in place and eased the door open. ‘Excuse me,’ she called, as the woman walked back down the drive towards the road. ‘Can I help you?’

  The woman turned around. She was quite young – in her twenties, Diana guessed, squinting at her under the harsh glow of the security light.

  ‘Sorry,’ the girl said. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to knock.’

  ‘Well, it seems a bit silly not to, since you’re obviously here for a reason.’ Diana smiled and released the chain. She looked harmless enough. Timid, almost.

  ‘Yes.’ The girl smiled nervously back. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘About?’ Diana asked curiously.

  ‘Your husband.’ The girl’s gaze skittered down and back again. ‘I work at Fenton’s Bespoke Plumbing. I’m the receptionist there, and…’ She paused and drew in a long breath, as if bracing herself. ‘I’ve decided to report him, Mrs Fenton. The things he does, the way he treats people, it’s not right.’

  She stopped, her expression uncomfortable. ‘I thought you should know. It might have implications for his family, and…’

  ‘I see.’ Diana nodded slowly. The day of reckoning could be fast approaching. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, stepping back into the hall.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Abbie, who’d been more in need of the brandy than Diana, had filled her in regarding her husband’s behaviour, which didn’t come as any surprise: his harassment of staff, his bullying, the sexual innuendo, inappropriate body contact, the touching. Diana knew the man she was married to. She was aware of his reputation. She hadn’t loved him as a woman should love a husband, but finding herself pregnant, she’d chosen a life of luxury. It hadn’t taken her long to realise she’d chosen unwisely.

  ‘There’s something else,’ Abbie said. Though Diana had assured her that anything she told her about Robert and any consequences of reporting him wouldn’t destroy her, she looked more worried than ever. ‘It’s about Jason. Your son-in-law…’ the girl went on falteringly. ‘You know he came to see Robert regarding financial backing for his company?’

  Diana straightened in her chair. ‘I do,’ she said, keeping her tone impassive, though her radar was on red alert.

  Abbie nodded, and then took a breath and continued, ‘I’m not sure what he told him, but whatever it was, it knocked Jason sick. I mean, physically. He looked as if someone had punched him when he came out of Robert’s office. He was obviously in a terrible state of shock. It was seeing that, seeing what he could do to his own son-in-law, that made me decide I should do something about him.’

  Diana’s heart froze. The bastard.

  THIRTY-ONE

  JASON

  Coming in through the front door, Jason sighed despondently. The house was empty – cold and uninviting. Karla wasn’t here. He’d known she wouldn’t be, but he’d had no idea what to tell Diana when she’d rung him at the office. She’d obviously been worried, thinking her daughter was ill and not able to get hold of her. But telling her that she wasn’t, that she was out – drinking, clubbing, staying out all night sometimes – and that he was worried too, about her state of mind… How was he supposed to tell her mother that? From their earlier conversation, he guessed Diana didn’t have any idea about what her delightful husband had disclosed to him. As much as he would like her to see the man for what he was – someone who had no shred of humanity – he couldn’t share the information. If Karla found out it would crucify her.

  There was no way, therefore, to tell Diana why he’d refused the money Robert had so generously offered him – not for his company, but to disappear, preferably off the face of the earth. Robert Fenton hated his guts. At least Jason now knew why. Did he really still think he could buy him off – as if any amount of money could compensate for what he’d done? He wouldn’t take a penny from him if his life depended on it, never mind his business, but he would gladly disappear. If it wasn’t for his children, for the fact that he desperately didn’t want to leave Karla like this, he would put as much distance between himself and that man as he could.

  Ushering Holly and Josh into the hall, he focussed his attention on them. They needed him to hold it together, though Jason wondered how he could. If not for Jessie lifting him from his bleak moods, he wasn’t sure he would be coping.

  ‘Go get your PJs on, kids. I’ll make us some hot chocolate,’ he said, steering them towards the stairs. They were exhausted. Their routine was all over the place. So was their diet. Jason was going to have to do better than fast food if he wanted to feed them a balanced diet, as Karla always had.

  Watching Josh slope towards the stairs, his scrawny shoulders drooping, Jason’s heart sank. The kid’s body language said it all. His son was worrying himself sick. Holly, too. Unsurprisingly. You could cut the atmosphere around here with a knife.

  ‘I’ll bring your drink up, Josh,’ he called after him. ‘Don’t forget to—’

  ‘Brush my teeth after I’ve drunk it. I know,’ Josh threw moodily behind him.

  Jason drew a hand over his neck. He was entitled to that. Jason couldn’t help but wonder how the kids were holding it together either. He was grateful they were. ‘I was going to say, don’t forget you have your after-school coding club tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to make sure you have your notebook.’

  ‘I’m not going. Don’t fancy it,’ Josh called back – and closed his bedroom door.

  Right. Jason swallowed a tight knot in his throat. He wouldn’t, he supposed, not now his father had shown him that running his own software company was a fast road to failure.

  He really had lived up to Fenton’s prophecies, hadn’t he? He’d messed up his family’s lives spectacularly. Where was Karla? What was she doing? Suppressing a combination of anger and fear, he took a breath and turned to Holly, who was loitering uncertainly in the hall. She would normally have dodged into the lounge and put the TV on – her usual ploy to postpone bedtime.

  ‘Hot chocolate?’ he asked her, with a hopeful shrug.

  Holly didn’t appear too enthusiastic but answered with a small nod, possibly to placate him. If there was one thing Jason had realised since his world started falling apart, it was that his kids were smarter than he’d given them credit for.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on and bring yours up, too.’ He attempted a reassuring smile.

  Holly didn’t look very reassured. ‘Dad, where’s Mummy?’ she said, stopping him in his tracks as he took a step towards the kitchen.

  Jason swallowed hard. That she’d referred to Karla as Mummy, rather than Mum, told him how scared his little girl was – and that almost tore his heart from his chest.

  ‘Out with friends,’ Jason answered, his voice catching. ‘Work colleagues,’ he quickly amended, hoping that might he
lp to justify why she seemed to be out almost permanently. ‘I expect she’ll be home soon.’

  Holly nodded again, her gaze dropping to her trainers, her expression ‘not buying it’. ‘When she does come home’ – she looked up, fixing him with huge blue eyes that were so like her mother’s, and so full of confusion, that Jason felt his heart crack another fraction inside him – ‘could you tell her we’re her friends, too?’

  Stunned, Jason tried to answer, but the words got stuck in his throat.

  ‘It’s just, when Josh acts like a little kid, and I get a bit stroppy,’ Holly went on awkwardly, ‘she might not think we are, and…’ She trailed off with a disconsolate shrug. ‘Would you tell her?’

  She was eleven. Josh was ten. Jesus. Jason sucked in a breath. ‘I will,’ he promised, and then reached out to her, yanking her close as she launched herself into his arms.

  ‘We’re your friends, as well, Dad,’ Holly said into his shoulder, her voice muffled, as he crouched to give her a firm hug.

  ‘I know, sweetheart,’ Jason said, his throat hoarse. ‘We both love you very much. You know that, right?’ Such a fucking cliché, he thought, swiping a tear from his face and then hugging her tighter.

  Half an hour later, with Holly and Josh safely in bed, Jason went back to the kitchen. It was a mess. Stuff everywhere, the washing basket and bin overflowing, yesterday’s dinner plates stacked in the sink. The dishwasher still wasn’t working properly. It was on his list, but he hadn’t got around to it yet. It wasn’t Karla’s job to clean up during the week, but she always had. Jason wondered how she’d done it. How she hadn’t come to the end of her tether – juggling her job, the house and the children; lunches, school runs, sick days, holidays. He’d always helped on Sundays with general housework, gardening and shopping, but with him working all the hours under the sun on weekdays, the load had fallen on Karla. He hadn’t realised how heavy a load it was.

  He was stuffing clothes in the washing machine when his phone beeped. Scrambling it from his pocket, he cursed as he almost dropped it, and then checked his messages. Jessie. Jason felt his spirits lift. Banging the washing machine door to, he read the message on his way back to the sink to tackle the washing up, and then stopped and raised his eyebrows in bemusement.

  I’ve had a body piercing, he read. Fancy a gander?

  Will I be shocked? Jason sent back.

  Don’t worry. It’s not a nipple piercing.

  Taken aback, Jason hesitated before answering, then, Pity, he typed.

  Sex wasn’t foremost in his mind. He wondered if it would ever be, given that his thoughts were constantly on Karla, on what they’d lost, which not so long ago, had been pretty special. Even knowing that Karla and he could never be together again, he felt guilty. He should be giving her time to move on without him before doing this. Except he needed it – someone in his life when there was no one else; someone who was easy to talk to and didn’t make demands he couldn’t live up to.

  Bad boy, Jessie sent swiftly back, along with an attachment.

  Viewing the photo of her torso, Jason’s mouth curved into an appreciative smile, his own body responding to what was an undeniably erotic image, despite his conflicting emotions. What was it about the soft curve of a woman’s stomach and hips that was such a turn on? His mind strayed to where it possibly shouldn’t as he took in the jewellery adorning her navel.

  A second later his phone rang. ‘So what do you think?’ Jessie asked him.

  ‘Sexy,’ Jason replied honestly. ‘Why an anchor?’

  ‘To keep me grounded, in case my fantasies run away with me. They’re all about you, obviously,’ Jessie said, a teasing edge to her voice.

  Jason laughed, realising that that was why he could talk to her: because the conversation never got too heavy. She was aware the kids were struggling. He’d told her that much. She’d been empathetic, rather than just making the right noises. I get it, she’d written. If you put yourself in their shoes, it’s easy to imagine how hard this must be. That had meant something to Jason, that she was a sensitive enough person to imagine herself in their position. Jason couldn’t avoid doing the same; his own childhood had been spent dodging the crossfire between his adoptive parents.

  ‘So, did it take your mind off your problems?’ she asked.

  ‘It provided a pleasurable distraction,’ Jason assured her.

  ‘Good.’ She paused. ‘You’re on your own, I take it?’

  Jason drew in a long breath. ‘I am,’ he said.

  Jessie clearly heard the tension in his tone. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to propose phone sex,’ she quipped. ‘I just presumed you were, since you’re talking to me.’

  ‘Right assumption,’ he said, with a sigh.

  ‘And you’ve no idea where she is, your wife?’

  ‘None.’ Jason acknowledged the pang of jealousy he felt as he wondered whether Karla might be with another man. She was entitled to be, but still, the thought hurt like hell. The thought that she might be involved with someone who didn’t give a shit about her caused his gut to clench. There was no point asking her. The answer was always the same: it was none of his business.

  ‘And you’re worried?’

  Jason hesitated, torn now between guilt that he was talking about Karla to Jessie and guilt that he was burdening Jessie with his marital problems.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up. I get it. It wouldn’t be normal not to be, would it?’ Jessie said, picking up on that, too. ‘Although I must admit I’m amazed you care, after whatever awful thing she did that broke up your marriage.’

  ‘She didn’t,’ Jason clarified quickly, concerned that he’d given Jessie the wrong idea. Whatever was happening between them, he would never rubbish Karla in anyone’s eyes. He couldn’t. ‘It wasn’t anything she did. Not knowingly, anyway.’

  He paused. He couldn’t say too much without sharing things that would devastate Karla. ‘It’s historical, something that was beyond her control,’ he said, and left it at that.

  ‘Well, she’s definitely a girl with an intriguing past,’ Jessie said. ‘You’ve got me going mad here, trying to work out what it is. Maybe one of these days, when you trust me enough, you’ll be able to share with me and put me out of my misery.’

  Now Jason felt bad. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, Jessie. It’s just it’s not something she would want made general knowledge.’

  ‘God, the suspense.’ Jessie sighed dramatically. ‘Ah well, not to worry. I respect you for respecting her, to be honest. So you know though, I would never break a confidence. I’ve had that done to me – some eejit of a boyfriend telling all and sundry about things that were for his ears only. Like I say, some people can be real douches.’

  Jason couldn’t help thinking she might be listing him as one of them, after he’d as good as said he didn’t trust her.

  ‘So, how’re the children?’ Jessie changed the subject. ‘Sleeping, I assume?’

  ‘In bed,’ Jason confirmed. ‘I’m not sure they’re sleeping though.’

  ‘Poor wee angels,’ Jessie said. ‘You know, I was thinking, you should take a break. With the children, I mean. A long weekend, maybe? You could always bring them here,’ she continued, before Jason could answer. ‘There’d be loads for them to do. We could take them to the adventure centre just outside of Carlow. It’s the largest in Ireland. They could have a go at karting, archery, soccer, wall climbing, roller skating, zip line…’

  Jessie was on a roll, it seemed. Jason didn’t interrupt. Just listening to her melodic voice, hearing her enthusiasm, somehow made him feel less stressed.

  ‘There’s tons of other stuff too,’ she went on, ‘There’s the Chocolate Garden, that’s a must for kids – a working chocolate and ice cream factory, with workshops, an ice cream parlour and play areas. If they’re into more intellectually stimulating stuff, there’s the visual centre for contemporary art, and there’s loads of outdoor activities: canoeing, mountain biking, paintballing, cycling, walking�
�’

  Jason found himself smiling as she stopped, possibly to catch her breath. ‘You sound as if you’re up for all of it.’

  ‘Oh, I am.’ She laughed, in that light, carefree way she did. ‘But watch out for me on the mountain bike slopes. I’m hot stuff. And I’m a mean canoeist.’

  ‘As long as your anchor doesn’t weigh you down,’ Jason suggested, his mind going back to the photo and the tempting expanse of bare flesh she’d sent him.

  ‘Ah, see, that’s where I’d be wanting my hero to come to the rescue.’

  ‘At your service,’ Jason assured her. ‘You’re definitely into outdoor activities then?’

  ‘Absolutely. I like to keep myself fit, mostly on the way back from the Chocolate Garden. That’s not to say I’m not into the odd romantic meal, too; walking in the rain, as long as I’ve got a brolly; barefoot on the beach and so on. I find that quite therapeutic. Do you like dogs?’ she asked, at a tangent.

  And Jason felt guilty all over again. They’d been planning to get one. The kids were desperate for one. They hadn’t decided when yet, but they’d definitely decided on what: a Labrador. They’d even talked about taking long walks on the beach with it. Holidaying in Devon or Pembrokeshire maybe, both of which had dog-friendly beaches, where the kids could let off some steam. ‘I do,’ he said, a new heaviness settling in his chest.

  ‘Excellent. I was thinking of getting one from the rescue place, to stave off the loneliness of empty nights on my own. We have a lot in common.’

  ‘We do,’ Jason agreed, trying not to let his mind linger on what could never be.

  ‘Look, seriously, think about what I said about coming to stay,’ Jessie went on. ‘I have bags of room here at the cottage now my housemate’s moved out. Well, a spare room anyway, so you and I might need to cosy up, but if you were up for that…’

  ‘I think I could cope,’ Jason said quietly, actually considering the idea and thinking that it didn’t seem like a bad one. ‘It sounds like a plan.’