When the Devil Drives

No matter what I did, how hard I fought, I couldn't be rid of him. Itold myself it was because I loathed him and everything herepresented, but I knew all the time, deep down, that it couldn't be thatsimple.My God, I used to lie beside Martin at night, and dream about Calover and over again.Her whole body warmed in bitter shame as she remembered thosedreams. She had tried so hard to dismiss them, to tell herself that theywere engendered solely by the problems of her marriage rather thanher unspoken, guilty desire for another man. The one man above allshe had no right, no reason to desire.But I should have been honest with myself, she thought. I should havebeen honest with Martin too. Then we could have ended that dreadfulsham of a marriage and started again. And Martin would still be alivenow.Instead, he's dead, and it's all my fault.Her whole being seemed to convulse in guilt and grief, and shewrapped her arms tightly across her body, staring unseeingly upthrough the sun-dappled leaves to the blue arc of the sky. She beganto weep again, but very quietly and hopelessly, as she'd never beenable to before. As she'd never allowed herself to do before.She was shaken by sobs, torn apart by wretchedness and remorse,rocking backwards and forwards on her knees, as the storm possessedher, then passed.She had done a wicked thing in marrying Martin, and now retributionhad overtaken her. Could there be a worse fate than being made toface the unendurable fact that she was in love with a man whoregarded her only as an instrument for revenge? What had he calledit? 'A dish best eaten cold.'