The Marriage - K.L. Slater (story books to read .TXT) 📗

speaking softly but urgently, and then a woman’s voice, faint, and … was that a giggle?

Robert looked at me and my mouth fell open.

Footsteps, and then Tom walked back into the kitchen, followed by Bridget Wilson. A waft of air filled my nostrils with the smell of congealing lasagne, and I covered my mouth and nose with my hand.

‘Good God!’ Robert thundered. ‘What on earth is she doing here?’

A sickly knot pressed at my throat. I wasn’t able to speak, could barely breathe. I wanted to be sick.

‘Mum, Dad,’ Tom said slowly, keeping his voice level, ‘Bridget and I are in love. We got married in prison six months ago and today, we’re starting a new life together as husband and wife.’

Twelve

I looked at Robert and he looked back at me, his mouth hanging open. Bizarrely, I had a mad urge to burst out laughing, so surreal was the situation.

Bridget Wilson was here. In this very room with us, breathing the same air as we were! Standing in the doorway of my kitchen with my son looming behind her protectively, his hand resting on her shoulder.

‘Hello, Jill,’ she said warmly, then looked at my husband. ‘Robert.’

She’d lost weight since I’d last seen her in the flesh, which was when she’d come to the house a few months after Jesse died. She’d been slim then, but she’d looked scraggy and worn out. Now she was lean and toned. Her hair was blonder, her skin smoother, glowing with health. Her eyes looked brighter and more energised.

She walked further into the room and the two of them stood side by side. A couple. My breath caught in my throat.

‘What kind of programme was it that encouraged you to do this?’ Robert demanded. ‘I can see the headlines now: Mother marries her son’s killer.’

‘Dad, that’s enough!’ Tom snapped, his expression dark.

Bridget spoke up in a quiet, humble voice that didn’t suit her go-getting attitude. ‘I understand it must be a shock, but the programme has been amazing. It’s enabled us to forgive each other and move on. Together.’

Together? Even though I knew the facts, I struggled to accept that word. It was like poison entering my ears, invading my body. It revolted me. A high-pitched ringing started in my head, trapping me behind a sheet of invisible glass. I heard everything that was being said, and yet felt completely removed from it all.

‘Tom,’ Robert said firmly, ‘it’s clear to me they’ve somehow brainwashed you. This programme, what’s happened … it can’t be right. You must see that. She’s old enough to be your mother, for God’s sake!’

‘I know my own mind, stay out of it,’ Tom said, as if there was no sense in trying to reason with his father. ‘I know it must be a shock, Mum, but this isn’t a sudden thing. Bridget began visiting me a couple of years ago, and when we did the programme together, we fell in love.’

‘Christ Almighty!’ Robert pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I’m not listening to this crap any more. I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life.’

‘Why is it nonsense, Robert?’ Bridget said, folding her arms. ‘It’s unexpected, it’s unusual, but it’s most definitely not nonsense. Our love for each other is perfectly real.’

‘There’s a twenty-year age gap between you!’ I heard myself cry. ‘It’s not right.’

Tom looked straight at me and I saw shadows underneath his eyes. His secret had clearly been weighing on his mind, but I saw something else in his face now, too. A glow that came from the inside. A glow he’d been keeping hidden all this time.

It was why he’d wanted to be alone in his bedroom as soon as we arrived home. Not because he felt overwhelmed or tired, but because he’d been safeguarding his secret. Their secret.

I closed my eyes against the thought of her being with my son, being his wife. I fought the obvious thought.

She’ll be making love to him tonight.

A noise escaped my throat.

‘Mum, please just hear us out.’ Tom looked pained but resolved. They stood there together, strong and united. Determined to declare their undying, ridiculous love.

But my son was in love! It radiated from his pores, surrounded him like a halo. It was in the way his eyes softened when he glanced at her, the tender touch of his hand on hers.

It was hard to tell if Bridget felt the same way. She was cool and collected, fully in charge of the situation. Tom was like a lamb to the slaughter.

Robert and Tom were talking in low voices now, both trying not to get angry, whilst Bridget chipped in here and there. Nobody spoke to me, nobody looked at me. The buzz of their conversation filled the room, but I didn’t hear any of the detail. I was too busy trying to filter out the horror of the situation and prepare myself for what was to come.

What would people say? Our neighbours, the press … the entire town?

More to the point, how would Tom possibly make the most of his life with this woman twenty years older than him and who had blamed him so publicly when Jesse died?

I knew he hadn’t yet grasped the full extent of it. He’d only just returned to the real world. And then I realised what had happened here.

In a nutshell, Tom was vulnerable after being in prison for so long, and she’d taken full advantage of that. He had clearly forgotten how he’d played at Jesse’s house, under Bridget’s care, since he was a toddler. How she’d changed his nappies, as I had once done for Jesse. He’d forgotten that when he was five or six, he’d sometimes called her ‘Auntie Bridget’. When the boys were older, they’d enjoyed sleepovers at each other’s houses. I would pack up Jesse’s lunch and iron his school uniform for the following day, and Bridget would do the same for Tom.

And now she had married him. The little boy she’d cared for like a