Bloody Mary Read Online Free

her husband. “Oh, come on Darren, you know I had the heating installed by a good plumber. And that the woodworm and damp were treated professionally. It’s a cottage full of character.”
    Darren scoffed, his arrogance biting her. “Whatever, I still think you should have got a modern place like I did, my apartment sold on the first day it was advertised. Modern is what people like.”
    Sophie quickly raised her glass to her lips to stop herself responding, she wasn’t in the mood for an argument. It was true, his studio flat had been in a desirable area, it was neat and minimalist, economical to run, and it had brought him a good profit for the three years he’d owned it before selling up to move in with her. Not that she’d ever seen a penny from the proceeds, he was content to keep it hidden in some lucrative savings account somewhere while she paid for the bills and food with her growing loans and credit card accounts. It grated that she had no choice but to sell her cottage to pay off those debts, the house she adored, and had paid for through years of hard work as she climbed the career ladder. The temptation to slap the self-righteous words from his pompous face grew fierce. Time for bed. Sophie stood abruptly, draining her glass. “Come on, we need to get some sleep, we’ve both got work tomorrow.”
    He sniggered as he finished his drink, stubbing dead the cigarette with his yellowed fingers. “You should have bought a modern place, Soph, that’s what people want.”
     
    Sleepless due to the interminable rasping, Sophie lay in turmoil. In the minimal light creeping through the gap in the curtains from the new moon, she could just make out her husband’s features, his still-clothed body. Was he handsome? She’d thought so at first, well, in a quirky way, but nowadays his cocky sneer irritated her. Yellow-brown eyes, a crooked nose, slightly greying dark hair. He was undoubtedly fit, down to his manual job as a joiner cum carpenter more than exercise, but his belly was rapidly spreading through alcohol excess and take-away food.
    Quite apart from his looks, the growing violence towards her was getting her down. He’d been caring and protective in those wonderful early days, treating her like a precious flower: compliments, gifts, cuddles, kisses. But as his drinking increased, so did his beatings, and with each punch she lost a little bit more of the respect she had for him. And for herself.
    She turned away, and for the second time since the ultimatum wondered if she should have chosen her parents over Darren. Unfortunately, she considered gloomily, the word divorce did not appear in her personal dictionary.
     
    In Darren’s hometown of Clayton, Newcastle-under-Lyne, his parents, Maureen and Bob sat with best friends, Peggy and Bry, at the expensive, perfectly polished walnut table, each with a large glass of wine raised. Bry was the most vocal, but Bob took credit for being the most inebriated. He was a happy drunk, or so he would have people believe, and the occasion for celebration made him happier. The imminent move to Mallorca. It had held the entire conversation from the meal at the local Harvester at the beginning of the evening, to this ‘early hours of the morning’ toast.
    Bry stood, steadying his drunken wobble against the table, and raised his glass higher. His words were slightly slurred. “I’d like to take a moment to congratulate our good friends on their wonderful news today. As we all know, we’ve known each other since our schooldays, we’ve had our families together.”
    Bry stopped his oration briefly for an ill-disguised belch, giving Peggy a chance to get a word in. “Get on with it!”
    His glass shook a little, the red liquid splashing onto the varnished wood, prompting Maureen to snatch a tissue and mop it before it stained. “I’ll thank you, my good wife, not to interrupt me while I speak.” They all chortled drunkenly. “We’ve seen our children grow up as