One Mistake: A totally unputdownable gripping psychological thriller Read online

  She pulled herself straight, a determined set to her jaw. That’s not going to happen to my family. It’s not.

  Matt drew in a deep breath, his voice shuddering. ‘I’ve let you down, love. I promised to look after you and now… now, I can’t. I’m a failure.’

  He picked up the second bottle of beer, looked at it for a second, then hurled it against the wall with such force that it exploded into smithereens, beer and glass flying through the air. His scream of anger filled her ears, the room, the air she breathed. She jumped away from him, shocked not only by the sickening crash and the splatter of beer, but by the violence of the action, the primeval sound of his despair.

  Her body shook as she desperately searched for ways to calm him down. He’d never been this upset before, never shown her this side of himself. This raw fury. And if she was scared, then imagine how it would affect the children. Maybe the girls would understand but Ezra would be petrified.

  Empty words wouldn’t help; she needed to think of something definite, something tangible that they could do. It was impossible to imagine that her life could shatter just like her mum’s had all those years ago. Debts had started that whole downwards spiral, and she couldn’t let the same thing happen to her children, couldn’t bear to think of them going through that pain and confusion. Her hands clenched. I’ve got to sort this out.

  Chapter Five

  Sara gazed at her husband as he sat on the edge of the sofa, his face turned away from her, shoulders shaking as he wept, and her heart broke for him. Being the family provider was central to his view of himself, a source of pride, and if that was taken away, it was like removing the foundations of a building. Without a job, she was sure he’d crumble.

  She shuffled closer, no longer scared now his anger had faded.

  ‘Hey, don’t go thinking like that. It’s not your fault, is it? These things happen.’ She ran her tongue round dry lips, her mind scrabbling for solutions. ‘Look, it’s not that bad. I can work more hours. If you’re at home to look after Ezra, I can probably go full-time for a bit, until you find something else.’

  He turned to her with an impatient shake of the head, eyes red from crying, frown lines etched across his forehead. ‘It’s not enough, though, is it? Even if you work full-time, with you being on minimum wage, it’s not going to cover the bills.’

  She bristled for a moment, a flash of annoyance that her efforts could be dismissed as irrelevant, before reminding herself it wasn’t far from the truth. ‘But it’ll help. And we can go and see the bank, ask if we can extend the overdraft for a bit.’ Finally, the adrenaline kicked in and her mind began to feed her solutions. She started to gabble, desperate to make things better. ‘We can talk to the mortgage company about missing a repayment or two, can’t we? This must happen to people all the time. And I’m sure you’ll get another job in no time. I mean, your IT skills are—’

  ‘Specialist.’ He spat out the word as if he’d eaten something disgusting. ‘There’s not another company in Yorkshire that does what we do. It’s all London-based, and we don’t want to move down there, do we?’

  Sara blinked, her positivity stalled for a moment. That couldn’t be right, could it? ‘Oh, come on, there must be companies round here that could employ you. Even if it’s more general…’

  She tailed off, because in reality, she hadn’t got a clue exactly what Matt’s skill set was. Something to do with websites, but the back end, not the front end. Writing code. Problem-solving. Something along those lines. In all honesty, he told her very little about his work these days, and she’d stopped asking, because when he did try to explain, his words flew right over the top of her head, making no impact on her brain whatsoever. She was more of a people person; he was the abstract techie, his mind working in a different way to hers. She’d always thought their skills complemented each other, something that made them perfect together.

  The urge to sink her head into her hands and give in to despair was strong, but one of them had to be up for the fight. One of them had to look for the positives, find a way out of this crisis.

  Her hands clutched at her scalp as if she was trying to press inspiration into her panicked brain. When she had first become a mum, she’d considered herself lucky that Matt earned enough for her to stay at home and look after the kids. Over time, she’d managed to hide her frustration, her ever-increasing need to use her mind and learn new things, interact with people on a different level to the mummy world she’d inhabited for so long. Maybe now was the point when she could flip things round, give Matt a break while she went out to work and got her career going again.

  Suddenly a new idea burst into her head and she gasped with relief.

  The money! I’ve got the money.

  She’d almost forgotten about her little nest egg, the inheritance from her Auntie Wyn, carefully tucked away and growing nicely last time she’d looked. She opened her mouth to remind Matt about their safety net. Then closed it again.

  He thinks it’s still in the deposit account.

  She remembered the conversation when they’d first discussed what to do with the money. It had been the perfect opportunity to tell him about her ambitions and her idea to enrol on a course she’d fancied. It would make her degree more relevant to today’s business world, and as soon as Ezra was at primary school, she’d thought she’d have some time to invest in herself.

  They’d been out for a rare meal, Hailey on babysitting duty. Matt had reached across the table and poured the last of the wine into their glasses. ‘Look, I’m all for continual improvement,’ he’d said. ‘Honestly I am. But those tuition fees for an MBA are ridiculous, don’t you think? And I’m really not sure what you’d get from it.’ He’d scrunched up his nose. ‘Seems like a bit of a rip-off to me.’

  ‘I see it as an investment, though.’ She wondered if the tinge of resentment in her voice would register with him. His speech was a little slurred, she’d noticed, but then he’d drunk most of the first bottle of wine and half of the second one.

  ‘Yes, but we need that money as a contingency fund, don’t we?’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘In today’s financial climate, who knows what’s going to happen? Best to leave it in the deposit account, where it’s safe.’

  And that was that. As usual, she’d let him talk her out of her plans because he made a lot of sense and at the end of the day, the security of her family was the most important thing of all. Her dreams could wait another few years, couldn’t they?

  What Matt didn’t know was that ten months ago, she’d transferred the money to a high-interest fund. She’d done her research, and the promised returns were substantial. Every time she’d opened her quarterly statement – and she’d had three now – she’d been delighted. One day the interest would give her the extra money she needed to improve her qualifications and secure the career of her dreams.

  Now, her mind was screaming at her to go and open the letter she’d received the other day. Another statement, she’d assumed, and had put it away to look at later, then forgotten about it.

  She stood, wanting to go and check. Can I take the money out? Are there penalty clauses, time delays? She couldn’t remember the details, but needed to find out.

  ‘I’d better go and see how the kids are doing,’ she said, giving Matt’s shoulder a reassuring rub. At least he’d stopped sobbing now and seemed calm enough for her to feel comfortable leaving him on his own for a few minutes. ‘I’ve left the girls keeping an eye on Ezra, and you know how that can work out.’ She checked her watch. ‘I need to get him into bed, anyway.’

  Matt didn’t respond, lost in his woes, his gaze fixed on the floor.

  Sara hurried out of the garage and into the house, stopping when she saw the deserted kitchen. She checked the plates, and was relieved to see that Ezra seemed to have eaten most of his food. She found him curled up on the settee, watching a cartoon that one of the girls must have put on for him. I must remember to thank them. Maybe I don’t do that enough? H
owever distant she might feel her daughters had become, they always helped with Ezra when she asked, and she wanted them to know she appreciated their efforts.

  A ping on her phone alerted her to a text message. Hailey again.

  Saw he came home. Assuming all okay? Had to dash off to an emergency.

  What could she say? Far too much to fit into a text message, and there was no point trying to explain when Hailey was distracted by a crisis with one of her service users. She sent a quick reply.

  Talk tomorrow. Thanks for your help x

  She was too shell-shocked to speak to her sister tonight, and by tomorrow she would have had time to think about things. Her head was spinning with the enormity of it. How easy it had been to assume that life would go on as it always had. That they would have Matt’s steady stream of income. What if he doesn’t get a job? A little shiver ran through her, the ghosts of her past flashing through her mind. It didn’t bear thinking about, because he’d been right – even if she did go full-time, her wages would only scratch the surface of their living costs.

  With her mind on money, she ran upstairs to their bedroom, where she kept all the household paperwork in an old desk. It doubled as a dressing table, a large mirror hanging on the wall above, with a shelf for make-up so she had the desktop clear to work on. She was the administrator of the household, and Matt didn’t know where anything was kept, leaving all that side of things to her. Hurrying to the desk, she found the envelope and ripped it open, scanning the piece of paper inside.

  It wasn’t a statement; it was a letter.

  She blinked and read it again. No, no, that can’t be right. She slowed herself down, read the whole thing word for word a couple more times. There was no mistaking what it said. She swallowed, her heart galloping in her chest. The letter was from a firm of accountants. The investment company had gone into administration, and the nature of her investment meant it was outside the Financial Services Compensation Scheme. She could appeal, the letter said, but it was unlikely she would be getting any of her money back.

  It’s gone. All of it.

  She sank onto the chair, legs weak, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t understood that the investment was unprotected; had just seen the high interest rate and official-seeming website and had assumed it would be covered. Matt will be furious. Not only had she gone against his wishes, but she’d ignored all the warnings about investments. About risks and returns. Had thought she knew better, so desperate for some extra money to follow her own dreams that she’d taken a chance with their nest egg.

  She heard the muffled sound of the back door opening and closing, Matt calling her name. Quickly, she fumbled the letter back into its envelope and stuffed it under a pile of documents where it wouldn’t be easily found. Her pulse raced, her head squeezed tight by the grip of dread. What am I going to do? I can’t tell him.

  ‘Sara?’ he called again.

  ‘Coming,’ she replied, her legs wobbly, as if they had a mind of their own, reluctant to take her downstairs, where trouble lay. They hadn’t a penny in savings and it was all her fault.

  What if he asks about the money?

  A bead of sweat worked its way down her back, panic tightening its grip. She’d seen how angry he was, how upset. Devastated by the loss of his job. Now this. She stood at the top of the stairs, unable to descend, her hand clasped to her forehead as she tried to work out what to do. She’d betrayed Matt’s trust, let him and her family down by putting herself first.

  ‘Sara?’ His voice had an edge of impatience now, and she stirred herself into action, her decision made. He couldn’t know. She wouldn’t tell him. Would stall if he asked. As she made her way slowly downstairs, she vowed to keep it to herself until she’d worked out how to put it right.

  Chapter Six

  The knock at the door was a welcome intrusion. Tension buzzed in the air; the atmosphere so charged that Sara had developed a splitting headache, which pounded at the base of her skull. Ezra was in bed, the girls still shut in their room, muffled chatter drifting down the stairs. Matt and Sara were in the lounge, sitting next to each other on the settee but lost in their own worlds. The late-evening news flickered on the screen, the words unheard as Sara’s mind searched for ideas to try and put right her terrible mistake.

  She jumped up and opened the door, glad to see Fiona on the doorstep, immaculate as ever in a red puffa jacket, black trousers and leather ankle boots. She wore her blonde hair cropped close to her head, in a style only people with her elfin features could pull off, emphasising her large blue eyes. Her look was effortlessly chic but down to earth at the same time, and probably cost a fortune to achieve.

  ‘Hiya.’ She gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry I’m so late. We had quite a few thorny issues on the agenda and I was determined nobody was going home until we’d got everything sorted.’

  Sara opened the door wider, gave a tight smile. ‘No problem,’ she lied, knowing that she’d have a tussle on her hands getting the twins up and ready for school in the morning. Nine o’clock was their cut-off point for friends during the week, something Fiona was well aware of, but she didn’t feel she could say anything. Not when she wanted Fiona to do her a favour. She tried to inject some warmth into her voice. ‘Come in, come in. To be honest, I’d lost track of what time it was. I’ll go up and get Chelsea.’

  Fiona tutted, frowning. ‘You’re upset with me, aren’t you?’

  Sara realised how uptight she’d sounded, and quietly closed the lounge door. Just tell her, she counselled herself. It’s better than her thinking you’re mad about her being late. ‘Bit of a crisis, actually,’ she murmured, not wanting anyone else to hear. ‘Matt’s just lost his job, so we’re reeling from that bombshell.’

  ‘Oh my God, you are joking!’ Fiona’s eyes widened, her hands covering her mouth for a moment, before she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But the company have been expanding. In fact, I had them down for some sponsorship funding for the community centre. I thought…’ She shook her head slowly and blew out a long breath, clearly shocked by the news. ‘That’s terrible.’ She put a hand on Sara’s arm, a reassuring touch. ‘Look, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’

  Be brave, seize the moment.

  ‘Well actually, there might be.’

  Fiona’s mouth gave a little twitch before she let her hand drop, her eyes searching Sara’s face, waiting.

  Sara cleared her throat, forced herself to speak. ‘We’re just trying to sort through our contingency plan, and I wondered if I could work more hours at the community centre. Just for a little while, until Matt gets back on his feet.’

  Fiona was silent for a moment, her steady gaze making Sara uneasy, part of her wishing she hadn’t asked. It was a horrible feeling, being needy.

  ‘Look, I can’t think now,’ she said after what felt like an entire week. ‘My brain’s fuddled with all the school stuff I’ve been through at the meeting tonight. I need to switch gears, go into community centre mode.’ She put her hand back on Sara’s arm, reassurance that she wasn’t dismissing her request. ‘Why don’t we have a good chat about it tomorrow, when we’re fresh? You’re in early, aren’t you?’

  Sara nodded. ‘Yeah. I should be there at half eight.’

  ‘And James is in tomorrow as well, isn’t he?’

  ‘He said he would be, just to sort out priorities for the next few days.’

  James was the manager of the community centre, but after his father had suddenly been taken ill, he’d had to drastically cut his hours in order to keep an eye on the family sportswear business. Sara was covering for him while he was away, doing three half-days a week, but she was aware that some aspects of the work weren’t being kept up to date and felt sure she could persuade Fiona to give her more hours, if only for a short while.

  Fiona smiled. ‘Perfect. I need to have a word with him anyway, just to see if he knows what his long-term plans are now that his dad’s obviously not well enough to carry on
running the family firm. Let’s kill two birds with one stone and have a proper planning meeting. We can have a look at the finances and identify all the jobs we’ve had to drop since James has been on reduced hours. See exactly what needs doing and what we can afford.’

  Sara leant against the wall, her body sagging with relief. ‘It would be such a help. I honestly don’t know how we’re going to manage.’

  Fiona pulled out her phone and swiped and tapped. ‘There we are. It’s in the schedule and I’ve sent that to James, just so he knows.’ She gave Sara a quick smile. ‘We’ll sort something out, don’t you worry.’ She glanced at the stairs, car keys rattling in her hand. ‘Right, um… Shall I go and get Chelsea?’

  Sara pushed herself off the wall. ‘No, it’s okay, I’ll get her. Have to be quiet so we don’t wake Ezra. He’s such a light sleeper, and once he’s awake, he’s a devil to get settled again.’

  The following morning, Sara made sure she was as smart as possible, wanting to look the part. She’d been temping at the community centre for almost two months now and was still getting used to being back in the workplace, but with James’s guidance, she was starting to feel comfortable with the routines and how the place worked. He’d been the manager there since it had opened seven years previously, so he was the one who’d set everything up originally. It involved more work than people imagined, managing a building with several rooms for hire, all different sizes and used by a variety of groups for a surprising array of activities. Then there were the accounts to do, on a computer system Sara was unfamiliar with, as well as the admin for board meetings and preparing figures and documents for a number of grant applications that were in the pipeline.