Diana wished he was there. Ireland suddenly seemed so very far away.It will keep until we meet.
I look forward to it,Michael assured her.Whatever the outcome, I’ll be there, Diana. I should always have been.
But he couldn’t have been, could he? Diana had loved him with her whole being, but as a married man with a small income and a two-year-old child, Michael had struggled with his conscience. Diana had eventually made his decision for him. She’d chosen Robert, fancying that a comfortable life where her child would be abundantly provided for might soften the pain of her loss. Perhaps living this life of purgatory had been her just deserts? Diana had pondered that often, but there was nothing to be done about it now, other than what she had to.
See you soon.She signed off with a kiss, and then, cursing the onions, wiped a tear from her eye and went back to her recipe. She was chopping the courgettes when her phone pinged in another text. Diana had been expecting this one too.
Are you still sure you want me to go to the press?Julie had sent.
Positive.Diana replied.
But I thought the payments were to ensure I didn’t.Julie was obviously concerned.Are you positive he won’t try to sue me?
Absolutely. He’ll be in no position to, trust me. And it’s high time Robert found out what it’s like to be bullied and blackmailed, don’t you think? Ask him for one more payment and then go for it.
I’ll email him now. Do you want me to transfer your share of the payment to the usual account?Julie asked.
That would be perfect. You’re an angel.Diana smiled, pleased that she would have a little extra to add to the quite considerable sum she’d already accumulated. Having to sleep with Robert’s accountant had been an odious chore – the man was a lecherous old reptile, definitely one of Robert’s ilk – but necessary in order to achieve her aim. It really was quite amazing what a man was prepared to do in order to prevent his ‘indiscretions’ being found out.
That’s what friends are for, Julie assured her.Take care. X
You too.X
Diana then set about chopping the courgettes with new vigour. Yes, doing something practical definitely made her feel better.
Forty-One
JASON
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Jason glanced up the stairs, glad Karla hadn’t heard the phone ringing, or worse, answered it. It had been a reporter. There’d been rumblings in the papers, hints about a certain businessman’s nefarious activities. It wouldn’t be long before the story broke, the guy had said. Did Karla have any comments, he’d wanted to know? Jason had said he thought not, but had given him a choice one of his own.
Christ, how would she handle it when it did break? Robert Fenton deserved all he got, but Karla didn’t deserve any of this. Their kids didn’t. He’d have to warn them about answering the phone.
Checking his watch, he realised they were late – again. He headed back to the kitchen, fetched the juice from the fridge and slammed Josh’s porridge into the microwave. He was retrieving cutlery from the useless dishwasher to wash when he realised he’d forgotten to time the porridge correctly.
Dammit. Jason swung around to grab it before it was cremated, and then – ‘Shit!’ He cursedloudly and shook his burned fingers as the hot dish hit the floor.
‘Daddy, language,’ Holly chastised him, from where she sat at the breakfast table.
‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ Jason shrugged apologetically. She looked tired, he noticed. Her hair was a mess. She’d had two buns on top of her head when she’d come down, which Josh had felt obliged to point out made her look like Mickey Mouse. Holly had growled at him and decided on two braids instead, which she’d asked Jason to help her with. She might as well have asked him to knit her a jumper.
Unimpressed with his hairdressing skills, she’d finally settled on a simple headband instead, dragging it through her hair without actually utilising the brush. She wasn’t looking any more impressed now – unenthusiastically stirring her porridge, which had probably solidified.
Grabbing up the milk, Justin carried it over and tipped some in her dish. He noted the despairing roll of her eyes as he did. ‘I’ll do better tomorrow,’ he promised, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
Answering with a small nod, Holly dropped her gaze and gave the unappetising sludge another stir. She was upset, wondering what was going on with him and Karla. The arguments they’d been having lately were loud, the silences in between louder. Jason felt his heart ache for Holly and Josh, both. They didn’t want him to make breakfast tomorrow – or any day, for that matter. They wanted their mother doing what she always had, being her efficient self, feeding them edible food. Karla was the epitome of organisation, or she had been. Jason had tried, but more often than not he failed, setting off with the kids for school minus their lunchboxes, forgetting half the stuff on the shopping list. They didn’t need him; they needed Karla, joking with them or chivvying them on when they dawdled, issuing threats if they didn’t ‘get their skates on’, threats they knew she wouldn’t carry out. Their children wanted familiarity, normality. With Karla lying in bed, recovering from another hangover, they were about as far from that as it was possible to get. He’d begged her not to go out.
‘Tell me you’re not leaving me, and I won’t,’ she’d said, her tone weary with exhaustion, her eyes… haunted.
Jason hadn’t. He couldn’t. ‘I’ll stay for a while,’ he’d said uselessly instead.
Karla smiled; a smile filled with such defeat and such soul-crushing sadness, he’d almost blurted out there and then why he couldn’t. What would that have done to her?
‘Sorry, tiger.’ Swallowing back his guilt, Jason offered Josh an apology for his failed porridge. ‘Fancy some toast instead?’
‘Coco Pops. I’ll get them,’ Josh said, sliding off his chair with a world-weary sigh and heading for the cupboard.
‘Cheers, Josh.’ Jason went to grab a cloth to clear the mess from the floor. ‘Can you leave a drop of milk in the carton for Mum?’ he asked him. ‘She’ll be thirsty.’
