Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox

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      Outside, Molly lingered for a while, half-tempted to go after him, yet reluctant to do so. Instead, she found herself accepting that their relationship really was over. She felt bitter and used, hoping that he would come to regret his decision to leave her behind.

      So many questions flitted through her mind. Why was it that every time she found a man she truly cared for, he always left her sooner or later?

      She asked herself, ‘Is it me? Is there something about me that puts men off?’ For the life of her, she could not understand it. ‘I reckon I’m good-looking, and I keep myself smart. I’ve got a good job with prospects, and I’m nobody’s fool. I stand up for myself and I make decisions. So, why do they always leave me?’

      She felt sorry. Sorry for herself. Sorry for her predicament, and her failures. But it was not her fault. None of it was her fault. ‘I’m coming up to thirty, and I need someone to be with me . . . to share my life and do the things I like to do.’

      Being without Jack scared her.

      Being on her own scared her even more.

      After a time, when the night air made her shiver, she headed across the courtyard to her car. Once there, she unlocked the door and got in, but she didn’t start the engine straight away. Instead, she sat in the driver’s seat, wrapped her arms round the steering-wheel and, laying her head on her arms, she sobbed as though her heart would break.

      What was left for her now? Where could she go from here? Eventually, looking in the driver’s mirror, she wiped away her tears. Assuring herself that her misery was all Jack’s fault, a terrible anger rose in her. ‘I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget!’ she vowed. ‘Somewhere along the way he’ll want me back – and then he’ll find it won’t be so easy. Oh yes! I still have cards to play. You’re gonna be sorry, Jack Redmond. Sorry that you ever let me go.’

      With a turn of the key, she started the engine, then accelerated away at speed, pleased that she had thought of a way to hit back at him. Congratulating herself on devising such a clever little plan, she could hardly wait to get back home. First though, she stopped off at the pub for a drink, and a chance to get her thoughts together. ‘Just the one,’ she told the barman. ‘I’m driving.’ Normally she might have a couple. But tonight, she had to keep her wits about her.

      Some time later, when she pulled up in the drive, the house was in darkness. A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her it was almost 11 p.m. ‘It’s a bit early for the boys to be asleep,’ she muttered, climbing out to lock the car. ‘Maybe they’re out, but they never told me they had plans.’ Lately, Mal seemed to stay over more than she wanted, but when he and Brian were working on a project, they worked day and night, poring over plans and finance. It irritated her. In truth, just lately everything irritated her.

      A moment later she entered the hallway to find the entire house in darkness. ‘I thought I told Brian to always leave a light on when he goes out,’ she muttered crossly. Switching on the light, she slammed her keys onto the hallway table and, throwing off her jacket, went into the kitchen. When she switched on the light there, she got a fright because Brian was sprawled across the table.

      ‘Hey!’ Brian had been fast asleep across the table. ‘Who’s that? What’s going on? . . . Oh, it’s you, Sis. I must have fallen asleep.’ Littered across the table was a sea of paperwork, with an open notebook alongside, into which he’d scribbled copious notes. ‘What’s the time?’ Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at the wall-clock.

      ‘Time you got some proper sleep.’ Molly had no sympathy for him. ‘Look at you! What d’you think you’ll achieve, staying up till all hours, dozing over your work?’

      ‘Aw, don’t start nagging me. Mal stayed and we got a lot of work done. He’s such a lightweight – he went off to bed ages ago. Hope it’s OK with you that he’s stayed? I said it was OK.’ Brian gave her one of his little-boy smiles. ‘Are you making a drink?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Aw, go on, Sis. I know you always have a hot chocolate before you go to bed.’

      ‘Not tonight, I’m too tired.’

      ‘Well, my throat’s parched, so I’m having a drink. I’ll make you one while I’m at it, if you like?’

      Molly declined. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, then. And don’t stay down here too long. Not if you want a clear head in the morning.’ With that, she headed for the stairs.

      On the landing, she thought of her plan, and for one minute it seemed so drastic, she wondered how Mal might take it. Then she thought of Jack and how he had dumped her, and her hackles were up.

      Once in her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes. Then she sauntered into the bathroom, where she freshened up, sprayed a little perfume over her nakedness and, running a little light mousse through her hair, fluffed it up about her face. The smallest suggestion of eye-shadow. A delicate dash of lipstick, and she was ready.

      Across the landing, Mal was in the spare boxroom, fast asleep, when he sensed the duvet being lifted. Startled, he opened his eyes, and she was all over him, kissing his neck, his chest; her body writhing, warm and silky, against him.

      In the half-light from the window, he realised it was Molly, and he could hardly believe it.

      When he opened his mouth to speak, she placed her finger over his lips. ‘Do you still want to marry me?’ she purred.

      Unable to speak, Mal nodded.

      ‘Have you still got the diamond ring you bought,?’

      ‘Yes.’ He assumed he must be in heaven, that she was an angel and he would wake up any minute. ‘Are you saying you’ve changed your mind about marrying me?’ he asked drowsily.

      She smiled sweetly. ‘Why do you think I’m here . . . in your bed?’

      Mal found it hard to believe. Having her here like this, hearing her say she wanted to be his wife, was like his every wish come true. When he took her in his arms, with her words of love ringing in his ears, he was the happiest man in the world.

      If only he’d realised, that even in the throes of making love, Molly felt no affection or joy. Nor even the smallest sense of guilt for her betrayal of this kindly man who adored her unconditionally.

      What she felt was deep regret – at losing Jack. At the same time, she felt a sense of triumph, that her plan of revenge would soon be accomplished. In fact, she was determined to become Mrs Malcolm Shawncross as quickly as possible. Poor Mal was simply a means to an end. It was Jack she wanted. But first, she needed to punish him.

      And if Mal got hurt in the process? Well, that was too bad. At times like these, there were always casualties.