Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Collection: The Schemer, The Trap, Payback. Kimberley Chambers

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      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      The following morning, Steph was a bundle of nerves as she drove towards her mother’s house. She had barely slept a wink last night and when she had finally managed to nod off, she had dreamt that Barry Franklin had turned up at her wedding with a gun in his hand and tried to shoot Wayne. Beside herself with worry, Stephanie let out a deep sigh. Wayne hadn’t got in until half three this morning and had been in no fit state to have a serious conversation with. Stephanie knew she had to tell him that Barry was back home. If her ex was staying bang opposite her mother, she could hardly not bloody tell Wayne.

      As Stephanie neared her mother’s house her anxiety started to heighten. Whether she would ever have dumped Barry in favour of Wayne, she really didn’t know, but in the end the decision had been made for her.

      Swerving onto a kerb, Stephanie slammed on the brakes and repeatedly banged her head gently against the steering wheel. She had two beautiful children, would soon be marrying the man of her dreams, she was financially secure and healthy; so why did this have to happen to spoil her perfect life? Picturing Barry Franklin’s face, Stephanie took the mobile phone Wayne had recently bought her out of her bag and rang her mother. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, when Pam answered the phone.

      ‘Yeah. Why? You ain’t running late, are you?’

      ‘No, I’m parked up in Ford Road. Walk the way you normally go to work and you’ll see me by the crossroads,’ Steph replied.

      ‘Why can’t you pick me up from home? I’ll be late if I have to carry Tyler.’

      ‘Because of Barry, Mum. If I bump into him, I’ll die a death, and I really can’t face the embarrassment of it all.’

      Barry Franklin woke up in his old bedroom and stared at the surroundings in utter disgust. He had been rather inebriated when he’d gone to bed last night, so hadn’t taken much notice of the room, but in the cold light of day it looked awful. There was dust everywhere, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and pieces of stale food scattered about on the carpet. Looking at the colour of the filthy, stained quilt he had slept under, Barry sat up and immediately began scratching at his skin. Compared to his current surroundings, he lived in what could only be described as a palace back in Spain, and Barry knew without a doubt that he could not spend another night at his sister’s house. He would rather shell out for a hotel somewhere.

      As a little mixed-race head poked out from under the quilt in the bed opposite him, Barry smiled. Chantelle had three children now, all by different men. AJ was the oldest. He was nearly ten and was the son of the Indian guy Chantelle had been with when Barry had moved to Spain. Ajay senior was now in Belmarsh. He had been caught with a big stash of heroin and was doing a fifteen stretch. The child currently staring at him with a look of bewilderment on his face was Chantelle’s middle one, Jermain. His father was of Jamaican origin, but had wanted little to do with his son and had only seen him twice since his birth.

      ‘You all right, boy? I’m your Uncle Barry.’

      ‘Get out my room,’ the child replied, glaring at him.

      Barry got out of bed. The bedroom had the same odour as a public toilet, and he guessed that one if not more of the kids must wet the bed on a regular basis. Barry hadn’t even met his youngest nephew yet. Daryl was only two, had an English father, and Chantelle was happy to let his dad bring him up. Apparently, she only saw Daryl every other weekend and had even cancelled the child’s last visit.

      ‘I said get out my room,’ Jermain repeated, angrily.

      ‘Chill out, boy. I’m going in a tick,’ Barry replied. He walked over to the window and stared through the СКАЧАТЬ