Read Online A Shameful Consequence by Carol Marinelli - Free Book Online
Authors: Carol Marinelli
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life—but if she lived here there were rules, and if she didn’t …
Her bank accounts had been linked to the family business. All now were closed. Her car, which had been a present, had been taken back, all her jewellery, too. She was not to take the luggage, her mother said, that had been bought for her honeymoon. So she had fitted what she could into a very old case, appalled they would treat her this way, while deep down she had known all along this was how it would be.
‘Your father worked so hard to give you everything. We are the richest in Xanos, the most respected, and you would destroy it, this how you treat him. This will kill him, Connie.’
It might.
Her father had played his trump card, lying in bed with chest pain, and, her mother savagely relayed, it would kill him should she still go ahead with the annulment. She should just get back in her box and be Stavros’s wife.
‘Let me see my father, explain to him …’ Connie said as she had many times this morning.
‘You’ve destroyed him, Connie,’ her mother sneered. ‘The doctor says he must rest, that there must be nomore upset. Be a good girl for him and maybe he will get better.’
It would be so much easier to do.
But hadn’t her father clutched at his chest throughout her teenage years—every time she’d questioned, every time she’d considered a different choice, every time she had dared to venture out? It had been the same thing and she couldn’t live like this, couldn’t be good for the rest of her life, just to avoid a funeral.
‘I want a real marriage, Mum.’ Surely she must understand it. ‘Like you have. Can’t you see that?’ But it fell on deaf ears.
‘How will it be for Dimitri, for poor Stavros? Did you ever stop to think about that?’
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Even if he would have made the worst husband, her heart ached for Stavros, for both islands were the same in that respect—appearances, however false, were all that mattered to the island’s elite. Far from hating Stavros, Connie felt sorry for him. He was as trapped as she would have been, forced to live a lie because that was what family dictated.
‘If that’s what he wants,’ Connie’s voice trembled, ‘then Stavros will get another wife, poor woman.’ She added, ‘I just hope he has the guts to tell her this time before the wedding night.’
‘Your father—’
Connie couldn’t bear to discuss it even a moment longer. ‘If you won’t let me see him then I’ll leave him a note.’
‘If he lives to read it.’ Her mother burst into tears again. She had dressed from head to toe in black since the day Connie had gone to their hotel room and told them she could not live this life. She had emerged from their row in this costume, as if someone
had
died, rather than that her daughter had stood up for herself. ‘I’m going to lie down. You be gone when I get up.’
‘You’re not going to see me off?’
‘Today you should be returning from your honeymoon.’ She sobbed. ‘Today should be my proudest day.’
It was the hardest note she had ever written.
Connie went to her father’s study, which was the furthest room from her mother’s wailing, and closed the heavy door. It was room that had both intimidated and intrigued her as child, all forbidden cupboards and locked drawers, and it intimidated her now, but quietly she roamed, trying to work out what to say in her letter.
The more they told her that she couldn’t leave, the more she realised why she should.
Why absolutely she must.
Her hand moved to her stomach, and her mind moved to the question that had been begging for answer for days now.
She was late—just a day or two, but getting a pregnancy test on the island was impossible without causing gossip.
There were so many reasons for being late, Connie assured herself—the stress of the wedding and the aftermath.
After all, she had started on the Pill in readiness for her wedding. That might mess around
Her bank accounts had been linked to the family business. All now were closed. Her car, which had been a present, had been taken back, all her jewellery, too. She was not to take the luggage, her mother said, that had been bought for her honeymoon. So she had fitted what she could into a very old case, appalled they would treat her this way, while deep down she had known all along this was how it would be.
‘Your father worked so hard to give you everything. We are the richest in Xanos, the most respected, and you would destroy it, this how you treat him. This will kill him, Connie.’
It might.
Her father had played his trump card, lying in bed with chest pain, and, her mother savagely relayed, it would kill him should she still go ahead with the annulment. She should just get back in her box and be Stavros’s wife.
‘Let me see my father, explain to him …’ Connie said as she had many times this morning.
‘You’ve destroyed him, Connie,’ her mother sneered. ‘The doctor says he must rest, that there must be nomore upset. Be a good girl for him and maybe he will get better.’
It would be so much easier to do.
But hadn’t her father clutched at his chest throughout her teenage years—every time she’d questioned, every time she’d considered a different choice, every time she had dared to venture out? It had been the same thing and she couldn’t live like this, couldn’t be good for the rest of her life, just to avoid a funeral.
‘I want a real marriage, Mum.’ Surely she must understand it. ‘Like you have. Can’t you see that?’ But it fell on deaf ears.
‘How will it be for Dimitri, for poor Stavros? Did you ever stop to think about that?’
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Even if he would have made the worst husband, her heart ached for Stavros, for both islands were the same in that respect—appearances, however false, were all that mattered to the island’s elite. Far from hating Stavros, Connie felt sorry for him. He was as trapped as she would have been, forced to live a lie because that was what family dictated.
‘If that’s what he wants,’ Connie’s voice trembled, ‘then Stavros will get another wife, poor woman.’ She added, ‘I just hope he has the guts to tell her this time before the wedding night.’
‘Your father—’
Connie couldn’t bear to discuss it even a moment longer. ‘If you won’t let me see him then I’ll leave him a note.’
‘If he lives to read it.’ Her mother burst into tears again. She had dressed from head to toe in black since the day Connie had gone to their hotel room and told them she could not live this life. She had emerged from their row in this costume, as if someone
had
died, rather than that her daughter had stood up for herself. ‘I’m going to lie down. You be gone when I get up.’
‘You’re not going to see me off?’
‘Today you should be returning from your honeymoon.’ She sobbed. ‘Today should be my proudest day.’
It was the hardest note she had ever written.
Connie went to her father’s study, which was the furthest room from her mother’s wailing, and closed the heavy door. It was room that had both intimidated and intrigued her as child, all forbidden cupboards and locked drawers, and it intimidated her now, but quietly she roamed, trying to work out what to say in her letter.
The more they told her that she couldn’t leave, the more she realised why she should.
Why absolutely she must.
Her hand moved to her stomach, and her mind moved to the question that had been begging for answer for days now.
She was late—just a day or two, but getting a pregnancy test on the island was impossible without causing gossip.
There were so many reasons for being late, Connie assured herself—the stress of the wedding and the aftermath.
After all, she had started on the Pill in readiness for her wedding. That might mess around
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