One Mistake: A totally unputdownable gripping psychological thriller Read online

  ‘This has to be the last time. The last favour,’ she said.

  He smiled and finished his coffee. ‘Is wanting to look after a friend such a bad thing?’

  She had to admit that it wasn’t. And so she stayed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of treatments, and by the evening, the stress had been kneaded from her muscles, her skin was silken, her nails perfect and her face glowed. Never had she felt so pampered. But it was tiring work, this relaxation, and by the end of their evening meal, her limbs were so heavy it was a job to lift a spoon to eat her dessert.

  After her conversation with James, she understood this was about him being lonely and needing somebody to lavish attention on, and she felt more comfortable about the situation. It was sad that he’d got to the age of forty-five and was alone, nobody to share his life with, but that wasn’t her problem. He knew their deal was nearing its end, which meant this was the last time they’d be having dinner together and despite everything, that made her a little despondent. Once she’d got over her initial nerves, it had been nice to get out of the house on her own, nice to experience the company of a different type of man to her husband. And if she was being honest, she’d miss James’s attentiveness.

  A pleasant and slightly strange interlude, she told herself. She’d still see him at work; Matt couldn’t argue with that. They could still do lunch, if they were careful. Friends. It was a thought that warmed her heart, because James had added a new dimension to her life that she rather enjoyed. Innocent bordering on the illicit.

  When she nearly fell asleep in her dessert for the second time, she remembered the therapist’s warning that she might feel weary after the massage, something to do with expelling toxins. ‘I’m sorry, James. That was a lovely meal and I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m dead on my feet here. I’m going to have to have an early night.’

  He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, finished his wine and gave her an indulgent smile. ‘No problem. Here, let me make sure you get back to your room. Can’t have you falling asleep in the lift.’ He stood and offered her his arm for support as they made their way to the foyer. ‘I bumped into a friend, actually, while you were having your massage, so I’ll probably go and have a drink with him. He’s on his own, I think he said.’

  Sara was relieved that at least James would have some company for the rest of the evening, her focus now on getting to bed. She stumbled out of the lift and down the corridor to her room, glad of James’s support.

  Once he’d opened the door for her and made sure she was okay, he left, and she wondered again if he might be gay, or maybe bisexual; whether this man he’d bumped into was more than a friend. Was that why he hadn’t made a move on her?

  It was an odd situation, she thought, to want to dress a woman up, get her preened to perfection and then not try and sleep with her. It really didn’t make any sense. Friends, she reminded herself, too tired to think, to even get undressed. She climbed under the covers and instantly fell asleep.

  Sara woke on Sunday morning feeling stiff and sore, muscles aching, her skin tacky after a sweaty night. Her clothes lay in a tangled pile by the bed, where she must have thrown them off in the night. She wondered if she was coming down with something, or perhaps it was just the after-effects of the treatments, working the toxins out of her body.

  She got herself washed and dressed, then packed all her clothes, except the things James had bought for her. She couldn’t take those home, because every time she wore them, she’d think about this weekend, and that wouldn’t feel right if she was with Matt. She put them in a neat pile on the bed, ready to return.

  James was already eating breakfast in the dining room when she joined him. He was very chirpy and seemed in the best of moods, even though she’d cut their weekend short. She, on the other hand, was feeling grumpy and thick-headed. She wondered if his good mood had something to do with the mystery friend he’d gone to meet last night, and the thought made her smile.

  ‘That’s better. You’ve got a beautiful smile,’ he said, observing her as usual. She blushed and focused on her food, gobbling down the organic granola as quickly as she could so this whole peculiar episode could end. It was time to go home.

  Sara went to pick up Ezra from Hailey’s first. He was sitting on the windowsill in the lounge, waiting for her. She waved when she saw him there, her heart warmed by the instant delight on his face. He disappeared from view, and the minute Hailey opened the door, he threw himself at Sara’s legs. She swung him into her arms, her heart bursting with love for her child, and as she hugged him to her, she had a moment of clarity, an understanding that she’d got her priorities all wrong. Being with her family was all that mattered; everything else was a distraction, taking her away from the people she loved most in the world. Tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her face in Ezra’s neck, filling her nostrils with the scent of him.

  Hailey gave her an appraising look as she held open the door. ‘Have a good weekend with… Louise?’ The way she said it, one eyebrow raised, made it very clear she didn’t believe Sara’s story about the hen weekend. ‘Back early, aren’t you?’

  Sara smiled and kissed Ezra’s head, avoiding her sister’s gaze. ‘You can have too much of a good thing. Anyway I missed everyone.’

  Ezra hugged her tighter. ‘I missed you too, Mummy. You won’t go away again, will you?’

  ‘No,’ Sara said with certainty. ‘No, I won’t.’

  ‘We had a good time, though, didn’t we, Ez?’ Hailey ruffled his hair. ‘And we have a surprise, don’t we?’

  Ezra wriggled out of Sara’s grasp, sliding down her body until his feet reached the floor. ‘We made cakes. I made you a special one.’ He grabbed her hand, and led her to the kitchen, Hailey following. On the table, centre stage, was a plate full of cupcakes, and sitting on its own was the one he’d made for her, decorated with skittles and sprinkles and lots of icing. Her heart squeezed with love. Her shoulders tensed with guilt.

  ‘That’s just wonderful,’ she said, choking on the ball of emotion that blocked her throat. ‘Wonderful.’

  Hailey packed the cakes into a Tupperware container, and after a brief chat, Sara headed home. Fiona had said she’d drop the girls off, as they were going on a shopping trip to Leeds, which they had been beyond excited about. It was something Sara could rarely bring herself to do these days; it wasn’t just the cost of such an excursion, but Ezra was a reluctant shopper and the girls liked to take their time, which created way too much stress for the day to be enjoyed by any of them. The girls both had some birthday money to spend, so Sara was sure they’d come back laden with bags, and she was excited to see what they’d bought.

  Matt was in the lounge, watching TV, when she finally got home. He looked up when she came in, and she smiled at him, a little wary of his response, given the way he’d been acting before she went away. But he surprised her by smiling back before turning his attention to their son, who’d jumped on his lap and was telling him what he’d been doing.

  Half an hour later, the girls arrived, faces flushed with excitement, and Sara was swept up in the bustle of getting a meal ready and looking at her daughters’ purchases, which they paraded for her like a fashion show. It was a busy, chatty afternoon and she couldn’t help feeling that they’d all benefited from a little time away from each other. Matt seemed especially cheerful, and that evening, when the children had gone to bed, she found out why.

  She’d just returned to the living room with tea for both of them, the room feeling empty, the atmosphere charged with a sudden tension now they were alone. This is it. My chance to come clean, she decided as she carefully put the mugs on the coffee table, her hands shaking so much she was in danger of spilling scalding tea all over the place. But before she could say anything, Matt spoke.

  ‘I got paid yesterday.’ There was a triumphant gleam in his eye as he waited for her response.

  She blinked, wrong-footed, al
l the words she was about to say disappearing like a wisp of smoke from a lighted match. ‘Fantastic,’ she said after a beat too long, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. She sat next to him on the sofa, made herself look him in the eye and fixed an enthusiastic smile to her face. ‘Come on then, tell me all about it. It’s been a bit of a mystery, this contract of yours.’

  ‘They want me to do more.’

  He looked so pleased with himself, she wavered about her confession. Maybe it can wait, she thought, her hands fidgeting, pulling at the hem of her T-shirt.

  She smiled harder. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  He grinned, picked up his tea and blew on the surface before taking a sip. ‘This is just the start. Just you wait. Things are going to be so much better for us.’

  ‘So…’ Sara tried to remember what he’d said about payment before she went away. ‘They paid you cash?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How much exactly?’

  ‘Enough to pay off at least one of the credit cards and catch up with the mortgage.’

  She bit her lip; his answer was too vague to work out the exact amount. ‘It would be good to save some, wouldn’t it?’ She averted her eyes, brushed imaginary fluff off her jeans. ‘Just in case the next contract takes longer than you think.’

  Silence.

  There was an edge to his voice when he eventually spoke. ‘You know, it would be really good if you had a bit of confidence in me.’

  Oh God, I’ve upset him now. She put out a hand, rubbed his leg. ‘I do. Of course I do. It’s just—’

  ‘Just what?’ he snapped, making her jump, his good mood in danger of turning nasty.

  She smoothed the fabric of the settee, picking at a blob of chocolate as she searched for an answer, still unable to look at him. ‘It feels like we’re still quite vulnerable. Financially, I mean. My full-time contract is only until September. Then they’re reviewing the whole staffing of the community centre to see if they can find cost savings. That’s what I read in the minutes of Fiona’s meeting with the new treasurer.’ She glanced at Matt, grimaced. ‘Might be good to have a nest egg to fall back on.’

  If only she could persuade him to put some of his cash in the savings account, she’d be able to pay off a bit of her debt to James. And that would make her feel a whole lot better. What if I can’t pay any back? The idea sent a flutter of panic through her chest. Would James reinstate their deal? Ask her to attend more events with him, maybe more weekends away? If that happened, Matt was bound to find out, and then… Her mind galloped along the line of logic to the worst possible conclusion. Her life as she knew it was hanging in the balance and she had no idea how to tip things in the right direction.

  Matt scowled. ‘Since when have you been in charge of how I spend my earnings?’ She bit her lip a little harder, didn’t reply that she was the one who ran the household finances, sorted out the bills. His hands were flying in the air. Annoyance scrunched his forehead into deep furrows. ‘I’m perfectly capable of working out priorities. And anyway, it’s my job to provide for my family, so I’ll do what I see fit without you lording it over me.’ He stared at her. ‘Thing is, I have to invest in the business as well. There’s some new kit I need, so I’ve ordered that. And I’ve thought about savings. I’m not stupid. That’s why I got half the payment in bitcoin.’

  Bitcoin? She had no idea what that was, apart from an inkling that it was a computerised currency. ‘But how will…’ She stopped, the look on his face telling her that now was not a good time to be pushing anything that contradicted his view of things. Persuading Matt to do anything against his will was a skilled operation and something she’d had little success with over the years.

  He picked up his tea and took a few gulps before standing. ‘Look, I’m sorry to get a bit uptight.’ He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, eyes on the ground for a moment before he caught her gaze. ‘It’s just… Well, it’s my job to look after you all, and I think I’ve done all right up to now.’ His eyes challenged her. ‘Haven’t I?’

  ‘You’ve been brilliant,’ she said, all enthusiastic because she could sense trouble in his tone.

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to trust me, then.’ He crouched in front of her, hands on her knees, and leant forward to give her a tender kiss, taking her by surprise. ‘I’m doing this for us, so we don’t have to worry about the future. Honestly, Sara. This could be big. Really big.’

  ‘I’d just like to know…’ She tried to stop herself, but the question was too enormous to keep inside any longer. ‘Is it legal?’

  He stared at her for a moment, clearly thrown. ‘I just write code,’ he said at last. ‘What people do with that is nothing to do with me.’

  He got up and walked into the kitchen. She heard the back door open, then close, leaving her with nothing but a chattering disquiet. Instead of the money she stole getting them out of trouble, it seemed his activities might land them in it. We could both end up in prison. She shuddered. The idea that her children would be on their own, facing the uncertainties that had marred her own childhood, made her squeeze her eyes shut and pinch the bridge of her nose to stop herself from descending into sobs of self-pity.

  In doing what she’d thought was for the best, she now found herself in the worst possible situation. Caught in a marriage that made her feel helpless, with a man who was building their future on something that was probably criminal, indebted to another man who had an agenda she didn’t understand, while she herself was guilty of a crime that could separate her from her family if she was found out.

  It can’t get any worse than this, she told herself.

  But it did.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Later that evening, Sara was making herself a sandwich when Matt flung open the back door and charged into the kitchen, the door bouncing against the wall as he waved his phone in the air.

  ‘What the hell do you call this?’ His face was scrunched in an angry snarl, a vein popping out on his forehead.

  She stopped buttering bread, clutched the knife a little more tightly in her hand as she tried to guess what he was talking about. Had someone spotted her and James together? Had she been seen having cosy chats over coffee, candlelit dinners with champagne, giggling her way back to her room, leaning on James for support? Her pulse sped up as the possibilities scrolled through her mind, every image incriminating if taken out of context.

  He thrust his phone in front of her face, and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust and her brain to register what she was seeing. A video clip. One that made her recoil in disgust. A naked man and woman on a bed. The man stroking a hand up and down the woman’s leg before it started creeping higher, towards her breast.

  She pushed the phone away. ‘What do I want to see that for?’ she snapped.

  He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘It’s you.’ He pointed at the figure, slowly enunciating every word. ‘That is you.’

  She frowned, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Look at the tattoo on her thigh.’ His fingers snatched at the screen, making the image bigger.

  Her eyes grew round, a terrible sinking feeling in her chest. Her legs weakened and she leant against the worktop for support. He was right. Her tattoo was very distinctive: the names of her three children entwined with roses. She made herself watch the video for a moment, disgust churning the contents of her stomach as the man’s hands roamed over her body. She seemed to be responding with little grunts and movements – although she had no recollection of any of it happening.

  James. That was her first thought. Then she noticed a signet ring on the little finger of the man’s hand. A red stone set in gold. It wasn’t James. The skin on her scalp pulled tight with the horror of what she was seeing, her heart skipping and flipping in her chest. Who the hell is it?

  ‘I knew it!’ Matt shouted, stomping up and down the kitchen, hands waving in the air. ‘I knew you were having an affair. You can’t deny it n
ow, can you?’

  Her mouth opened, her head full of denial, but shock made the words stick in her throat, still no clue as to who the man was or how it had happened.

  Finally she found her voice. ‘Who sent you that? How did—’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, does it?’ he snapped.

  She looked at the screen again, noticing that the clip went on for almost an hour. An hour! Oh my God. What’s he doing to me? She watched in appalled silence as the man’s fingers trailed ever so slowly from her ankle to her knee, before inching higher. She couldn’t bear to see any more, didn’t want to know what else had happened in the hour of filming. This had to be something to do with James. Fury flared in her chest as she sent the file to herself, determined to confront him with the evidence.

  Matt snatched the phone off her, his face red now, as furious as she’d ever seen him. ‘I told you what would happen if I ever found out you were cheating, didn’t I?’ He pointed the phone at her, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

  ‘Matt, no,’ she pleaded, tears of desperation in her voice. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not! I don’t know how that happened. I don’t. I have no idea who that man is.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’ he snarled.

  ‘But it’s true, it—’ She ducked as he swiped at her with his hand, adrenaline coursing through her veins, then watched in horror as he started throwing things while she cowered on the floor unable to say or do anything to stop him, the butter knife still firmly clutched in her hand.

  Mugs went flying, then the plates she’d stacked ready to put away. He swiped the fruit bowl off the worktop, sending apples bouncing in all directions, the wooden bowl sliding across the tiles. She hoped the children hadn’t woken up, frightened by the racket, glad that the kitchen door was closed and their bedrooms were at the front of the house. For a moment, there was silence, and she thought maybe his anger had abated. She daren’t look, her arms clasped over her head, knees to her chest. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist, the knife was wrenched from her hand and he started dragging her across the floor. ‘No, no, no,’ she sobbed. ‘You’ve got to listen to me. There’s something weird—’