The Schemer. Kimberley Chambers

Chapter Thirty-Eight

       Chapter Thirty-Nine

       Chapter Forty

       Chapter Forty-One

       Chapter Forty-Two

       Chapter Forty-Three

       Chapter Forty-Four

       Epilogue

       Keep Reading

       Acknowledgments

       Read on for an extract from Kimberley’s next book: The Trap

       About the Author

       Also by Kimberley Chambers

       About the Publisher

      Prologue

      The woman sat on the deck sipping a glass of vintage champagne. The weather was glorious and the heavenly smell of the ocean always had a calming effect on her. As the man reappeared, the woman smiled at him lovingly. Usually when they sailed their boat, they brought friends along with them, but today the man had insisted they sail alone. ‘I wanted it to be just the two of us for once; that’s why I never told you we were going out on the boat until this morning. I wanted to surprise you and spoil you rotten.’

      And surprised and spoilt rotten the woman had been. Mussels in garlic butter, salmon en croûte, strawberries and cream were all prepared and served up for her by her wonderful man. She had a surprise for him also and, as soon as he sat back down, she would tell him what she had been dying to tell him for weeks.

      ‘Come over ’ere, babe, and look at this,’ the man said, gesticulating for the woman to join him.

      The woman walked over to the right-hand side of the boat and put her arms around the man’s toned, suntanned waist. ‘I can’t see nothing. What am I meant to be looking at?’ she asked, rather bemused.

      Knowing it was now or never, the man forcefully grabbed the woman by the shoulders, and swung her around so that her back was positioned against the gunwale. ‘I’m sorry, but me and you are over. I don’t love you any more and I’m going back to England.’

      ‘Stop mucking about. You’re not funny,’ the woman said, with a hint of panic in her voice.

      ‘I ain’t fucking mucking about,’ the man replied, as he put one hand around the woman’s throat and used his other to lift her up by the crotch.

      ‘Please God no! Why would you want to do this to me? Why?’ the woman screamed, as her feet left the safety of the deck.

      ‘Because you know too much about me,’ the man replied, his face devoid of emotion. With one last movement, he threw her to the mercy of the sharks. The last words he heard her scream were, ‘I’m pregnant.’ Putting his hands over his ears so he didn’t have to listen to anything else she might yell out, the man then calmly returned to the helm.

      CHAPTER ONE

      1983

      Stephanie Crouch’s stomach was full of butterflies as she marched up Dagenham Heathway hill towards the train station. It had taken her ages to decide what to wear, but she was happy with her choice of denim pedal-pushers, a Flashdance-inspired ripped grey sweatshirt and gold pump ballet shoes. Not only did she look trendy, but felt comfortable as well.

      ‘Hurry up, Tam. You’re walking as fast as a tortoise,’ Stephanie complained to her best friend.

      Tammy Andrews stopped dead in her tracks. The stereo system she was carrying on her shoulder had all but broken her back. ‘Sod you, Steph. You can carry it the rest of the way yourself. I ain’t one of them donkeys, you know.’

      Laughing, Steph handed her pal the carrier bag of goodies they’d purchased earlier and relieved her of her burden.

      ‘Why did you drag us up ’ere so early anyway? You know he don’t get back till about six and it’s only half four. We should have drank our cider in the park and then come up ’ere. My mum will kill me if anyone she knows catches me drinking and smoking.’

      Ignoring her friend’s concerns, Stephanie stood outside the station and planned her next move. She knew that Wayne Jackman went to every West Ham home game and she knew he arrived back at Dagenham Heathway at approximately six o’clock. ‘I don’t want him to think we’re waiting for him, so I think we should sit opposite the station. He lives in Digby Gardens, so he’s bound to cross the road,’ Steph said, confidently.

      Unlike Stephanie, Tammy was no fan of Wayne Jackman, the school heart-throb. Wayne, who was usually referred to as Jacko, was in the year above them at Dagenham Priory. Although Tammy had never spoken to him on a one-to-one basis, she’d seen and heard enough about him to know that he was bad news. He might be breathtakingly good looking with his blond hair and piercing blue eyes, but he was also flash, blatantly loved himself and had a reputation of being a bit of a bully.

      Holding the stereo system between them, the girls strolled across the pedestrian crossing, sat down on the pavement outside a shop and delved into their bag of goodies. Neither came from wealthy families, so the three pounds they both received as pocket money every week was pooled together at the weekend to ensure they had a good time. Strongbow cider, twenty Embassy Number One, two packets of Hubba Bubba bubble gum, chips and magazines was all they ever treated themselves to.

      Stephanie pressed the play button on the stereo and ignored the disapproving looks of passers-by as the music blared out of the speakers.

      ‘I hate this shit music,’ Tammy complained.

      Stephanie laughed. Whereas she was deemed very attractive, Tammy was classed as the opposite. Fairly plump with reddish-gingery hair, most of the lads at school took the piss out of Tammy. Her nickname was Tampax or ginger minge, but Stephanie adored her best friend. In Steph’s eyes, she was beautiful, loving and extremely funny.

      Singing at the top of her voice to New Edition’s ‘Candy Girl’ Steph handed her friend the fags and matches while she opened a bottle of cider.

      ‘I bought a tape with me with “Baby Jane” on it. Can’t we put that on, Steph?’

      Stephanie shook her head vehemently. Wayne Jackman was a casual and was always dressed in designer tracksuits. He even owned a real Burberry jacket and he certainly wouldn’t be impressed if he walked out of the station and heard the dulcet tones of Rod Stewart blaring out.

      ‘You can put “Baby Jane” on when he’s gone. Casuals like soul music, Tam, and I don’t wanna put him off me.’

      Tammy sighed. Ever since Wayne Jackman had last week wolf-whistled at Stephanie in the alleyway that led from the upper to the lower school, Steph had spoken of little else. ‘Why don’t you just ask him out? I’ll do it for you if you like,’ Tammy suggested.

      Stephanie immediately shook her head. ‘No! I’m gonna wait for him to ask me out.’

      ‘Hide that cider, quick. One of my mum’s mates is crossing the road,’ Tammy hissed.

      Stephanie