The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan

by Alison Sherlock

  His tongue went in almost immediately and appeared to do a full exploratory. So he wasn’t a good kisser. So what? At least she wasn’t spending another night on her own.

  Finally, he pulled away. Charley tried casually to wipe her chin free from the saliva which was now running down it.

  He gave her a wink before taking a sip of wine. She drained hers at a gulp.

  ‘Tell me more about your work,’ she said, grateful for the respite.

  He gave her a smile and obliged with small talk until last orders were called.

  They shared a taxi home. She wondered about inviting him in. She wasn’t sure quite what he would expect of her or what she wanted from him either.

  But Charley needn’t have worried. He told the taxi driver to wait and helped her to the front door. The fresh air had hit her hard and she was more than a bit wobbly.

  She was having trouble getting the key into the lock when she felt Keith stand close behind. He swept her long hair aside and started kissing the back of her neck. It should have been a sensuous experience but it wasn’t.

  She finally managed to unlock the front door and turned around.

  He continued his wet assault on her lips and chin before finally pulling away.

  ‘Sleep well, fair maiden,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘Good night,’ she said, swiftly closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Sixty-six

  JULIE STOPPED OFF at Charley’s flat on the way to work, to drop off some extra Tupperware boxes that she had forgotten to give her.

  ‘Jeez, what happened to your hair?’ she asked, her eyes open wide.

  ‘I think I passed out after I washed it last night,’ said Charley, clutching her head. ‘I’m a little hungover so go easy.’

  ‘You look like you had an electric shock.’

  Charley peered at the mirror in the gloom of the hallway. Eeek! She went into the bedroom and scraped her hair back into a ponytail with a hairband. Then she went into the kitchen where Julie was making some much-needed coffee.

  ‘That’s much better,’ her friend told her. ‘I can see the bags under your eyes much more clearly now.’

  ‘Shut up. And make mine a strong one.’

  ‘Kept you up late, did he?’ Julie waggled her eyebrows.

  ‘No. I just drank too much.’

  ‘Was it that bad?’

  ‘Which bit? Bumping into Steve or having Keith slobber all over me?’

  Julie grabbed the mugs and followed her into the lounge. She put the drinks on the floor and slumped into the armchair. Charley made do with a few cushions on the floor.

  ‘Girl, you gotta get yourself some more furniture. What was that about Steve?’

  ‘He was in the wine bar last night.’

  ‘Talk about how to ruin a good night out! Where was the tart?’

  ‘At home, I presume. He didn’t seem to be missing her too much.’ Charley took a sip of coffee. ‘Told me I was looking mighty fine.’

  ‘Of course you are. Anyone would look good if they didn’t have him in their life, ruining it to high heaven.’ Julie shot her a look. ‘Don’t you go thinking about Steve again. He’s not worth it.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘The only reason he wants to be friends and back in your life is because he wants to have occasional meaningless sex that doesn’t include staying married to you.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘Anyway, you’ve got that nice Keith to worry about now.’

  Charley grimaced before she had a chance to stop herself.

  ‘I saw that!’ said Julie, lurching forward in her seat. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘He’s not a good kisser.’

  ‘Tongue down your throat, bad breath, or slobbering like a ninety year old who’s lost all of their teeth?’

  ‘Doors number one and three.’

  Julie made a face. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Grim.’

  ‘If he’s an awful kisser, how bad do you think he’ll be in bed?’ Julie picked up the local newspaper she had taken from the doormat. ‘Maybe we’d better find you somebody in the personal ads.’

  ‘I don’t think I want anyone else,’ Charley told her. ‘I’m not even sure I want him. Besides, it’s a bit shallow letting someone go just because they can’t kiss, isn’t it? He’s quite good company.’

  ‘You could always wear a bib.’ Julie flicked through the pages. ‘Here we are. Which side do you want? The lonely hearts or the adult contact ads, otherwise known as the perverts.’

  ‘Neither.’ Charley gulped down some more coffee.

  ‘Suit yourself. I’m going for the perverts. They don’t mind if I’m old and wrinkly. In fact, some ask for it especially. How about this one? He’s looking for voluptuous ladies.’ Julie glanced down at her own less than pronounced chest. ‘Only if I wear a Wonderbra. Or this one? Oh. He only wants to observe. Don’t suppose he’ll want to watch me do the ironing. And how about . . .’

  ‘Enough!’ said Charley, clutching her head.

  But Julie was staring wide-eyed at the paper.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Keith of Grove,’ Julie read aloud. ‘I have returned from my crusade. My lance is still firm. I require a fair maiden to climb my tower.’

  Their mouths fell open at the same time as they stared at each other.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not the same Keith,’ said Julie eventually.

  ‘How many Keiths live in Grove?’

  ‘Loads. Possibly. Maybe.’

  ‘He calls me his fair maiden,’ Charley stammered.

  ‘God! He does, doesn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t believe it. It can’t be him. It just can’t.’ But she knew with a sinking heart that it was.

  At that point, Charley’s mobile rang. ‘It’s him,’ she hissed at Julie.

  ‘Let me at him,’ said her friend, attempting to grab the phone from her.

  ‘Get off!’ Charley pressed the green button, still holding Julie at arm’s length with the other hand. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, my lovely,’ said Keith. ‘How are you this morning?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’ Her voice was a bit high. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘A bit weary.’

  ‘You must be. I’ve heard those crusades can be quite tiring.’

  There was a short pause. ‘I’m sorry. The line just broke up. I didn’t quite catch that.’

  ‘The crusades? Haven’t you just returned from them? Hang on, let me check your personal ad.’ Charley rustled the newspaper down the receiver at him. ‘You are Keith of Grove, are you not? And there was me, thinking I was your only fair maiden. Or am I just the only one not climbing your tower at the moment?’

  The phone line crackled.

  ‘Lost for words, Keith of Grove?’

  ‘It’s not what it seems,’ he spluttered.

  ‘I think it’s exactly what it seems.’

  ‘You see, I respect you. I enjoy your company. I didn’t want to rush things.’

  ‘But in the meantime, you’re happy to get your leg over with any other fair maiden who answers your personal ad?’

  ‘It isn’t like that. Sex has always been an important part of my life . . .’

  Charley was flabbergasted. ‘And?’ she screeched.

  ‘I’m a man. I have needs.’

  ‘What you need is castration! Don’t ever call me again. Goodbye.’

  She pressed the off button and threw the phone down.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ she shouted, getting up to pace the room. ‘I just don’t believe it! He’s a bloody sex addict! That’s it. I’m becoming a lesbian.’

  ‘I think I’m too old for you.’

  Charley attempted to laugh but it all went a bit wrong and tears threatened to fall.

  ‘I never want to date a man ever again,’ she snuffled into Julie’s shoulder.

  Julie stepped away to hold her at arm’s length. ‘Steady, sister. I’m saving myself for Brad Pit
t.’

  After her friend had left, Charley thought about being single.

  Had she stayed with Steve, would she have regretted the wasted opportunities, the chance to lead a different life? In her heart, she realised the answer was yes. They had married too young and stayed together because it was easy, not because they were especially well matched or even loved each other. They had remained married because it was less trouble than admitting it had been a huge mistake.

  Apart from the bankruptcy and debts, Charley had little to show for all their years together. Yes, the business had provided her with a beautiful home but that was just a possession, as was all the rubbish with which they had filled it. It hadn’t enabled her to grow as a person. In truth, it had held her back. She had been sucked in to a life of manicures and shopping, and it had been so boring. Only in hindsight could she realise the emptiness of her life back then.

  And now? This wasn’t the life she wanted either but it had at least given her a clean slate. Perhaps she didn’t need a man. She certainly didn’t want Steve or Keith. If and when she found the right one, then she would know. But until then, she could and would survive on her own.

  The future was in her own hands and Charley felt a tiny glimmer of excitement deep inside as she wondered what lay ahead for her.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  CAROLINE WAS TRYING to stay calm but it wasn’t easy having Jeff at home all the time. Especially when he went out into the garden one afternoon.

  ‘You want to tell me what happened with the vegetable patch?’ he asked her, with a grin.

  Caroline closed her eyes. She’d forgotten about the compost heap that her vegetable plot had become.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ she told him, near to tears.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, startled to see her so upset. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s only vegetables.’

  ‘Yes, but we were going to grow them and it would have been so lovely to sit down together for our Sunday roast and say, “We grew those potatoes.” And now we can’t.’

  ‘So?’ said Jeff, drawing her into a hug. ‘You and I have many talents but gardening isn’t one of them. You’re still a great mum and wife.’

  Caroline took a deep breath before confessing to him about the scoring system she’d based around Flora’s eating and activities.

  ‘You’re insane!’ exploded Jeff, in shock.

  ‘I just worry that if I bring her up the wrong way then it’ll wreck her future happiness.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ he said. ‘You’re a brilliant mother. Stop feeling guilty about the small things. You love and care for Flora. I don’t think you should spend every waking minute working out how much time you’ve spent on the right and the wrong stuff. No wonder you had high blood pressure.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ replied Caroline. ‘It adds to the stress, I realise it does. But I’m so pleased, feel so smug when I give her a good meal or whatever.’

  ‘Please just enjoy our daughter,’ said Jeff, drawing her close once more. ‘She will not turn into some freeloading waster or psycho if you get the odd thing wrong.’

  ‘What about the gardening?’

  He kissed her on the nose. ‘Maybe we’ll stick to one of those hanging baskets of trailing tomatoes next year.’

  ‘If we can afford it,’ she told him.

  ‘We’ll be able to afford it,’ he answered in a stern voice. ‘I’ve got a couple of interviews coming up. Things will get better. You’ll see.’

  They were still hugging when Flora appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Do you want a biscuit?’ asked Caroline.

  She shook her head and suddenly burst into tears. She had been very quiet when she had come home from school that afternoon.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Caroline, pulling her on to the sofa.

  ‘My drawing,’ sobbed Flora. ‘She said it was bad.’

  ‘Who did?’ asked Jeff.

  ‘Mrs Lewis.’

  The little girl was terribly upset. Caroline held her close as she cried and cried.

  ‘Right,’ said Jeff. ‘No, you lie there or I’ll get my mother over here to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Caroline as she watched him pull on his coat.

  ‘I’m going to see this teacher. This isn’t the first time Flora’s been upset.’

  Caroline was amazed. Something else had obviously happened while she was in hospital.

  ‘They’re putting her under way too much pressure. She’s only five, for God’s sake.’ He grabbed the car keys before bending down to kiss his wife and daughter. ‘Put the telly on and relax, both of you. I’ll be back soon.’

  But it was nearly six o’clock by the time he returned.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Caroline, turning down the volume on Tinkerbell.

  ‘We can sell the uniform on eBay, can’t we?’ said Jeff, sitting next to her on the sofa.

  Caroline was aghast. ‘You’ve taken her out of Grove School for Girls?’

  ‘Absolutely. And just in bloody time! I asked to see the headteacher and she was really weird. Like something from St Trinian’s.’

  ‘We never got to see her at the interview, did we?’

  ‘I got to see the teacher as well. I asked about Flora and they both seemed to agree that her drawing wasn’t strictly within the parameters they had set. It seems the last thing they want to do is encourage five year olds to have any imagination! So I decided there and then . . . Flora’s not staying. Between them they’ll destroy her confidence, and I’m not having that.’

  ‘But what will we do?’

  ‘I rang the local primary school. Got a meeting with the headteacher tomorrow. Far more pleasant than that other woman. They’ve got a spare place because somebody emigrated, so she wants to meet Flora. It sounds promising. And if that school was good enough for me, then it will be good enough for our daughter too.’

  A few days later, Flora was enrolled in the local primary school and loved her first day there. Her new teacher had said that they needed help with the scenery for the Christmas play and could Flora help draw the castle for the background?

  Caroline watched her daughter happily drawing designs on a big pad of paper before sinking back on to the pillows, a smile spreading across her face.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  JULIE SAID ‘SIT!’ to Boris as they stood at the edge of the pavement.

  She still felt smug when the dog sat on command. Of course, he was looking up expectantly for his doggy treat, but still, it looked impressive.

  Boris was back to his old self. Julie, however, had changed for ever. She was officially a doggy person. She found herself talking to the dog more and more now that she could finally relax and let him into her heart. She loved coming home to his excited face and hated leaving him when he put on the saddest expression in the universe.

  He was company for her, kept the loneliness at bay. He also got her out of the house, even when it was raining and windy.

  Boris seemed to grow, week by week, until now at seven months old his body was gangly but powerful. Julie watched him run ahead of her on their morning walk one day and realised he had a childlike brain inside an almost adult body. He was a canine teenager, she felt. He didn’t seem to know how to handle his own growing body sometimes and would misjudge the distance between himself and other objects. Such as trees. And people.

  Not for the first time that week, Boris made a mad dash towards Julie to grab the stick in her hand. But his attempt to swerve around her didn’t quite work out and instead he hit her thigh at full pelt and she slumped to the ground with a dead leg.

  She winced as she rubbed it and sighed, though she couldn’t help smiling too. What must she look like? Especially since she had discovered she was sitting in a patch of thick mud.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Julie’s gaze ran up from the green wellies, past the thick, muscular legs clad in jeans, the bulging sweatshirt, and finally the face of Wes the vet.

 
‘I’m fine,’ she said, mortified that he should find her in this state.

  He held out his hand which she reluctantly took. With one heavy pull, she was standing up.

  ‘I saw Boris take you out,’ Wes told her.

  ‘He’s hopeless,’ said Julie, but leant down to give her dog a rub on his head. ‘It’s the second time this month he’s done this.’

  ‘He looks well. No more problems after the chocolate?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘I keep everything hidden away in the cupboards these days. And the under-sink cupboard has been baby-proofed.’

  Wes nodded. ‘Good.’

  ‘You’ve just got to be careful, haven’t you, boy?’ said Julie to Boris, who was looking up at her with an enormous branch in his mouth. ‘Think you’re being a bit ambitious with that. There’s no way I can throw it for you.’

  And then she realised that her habit of talking to Boris had now become public. She glanced at Wes who was grinning at her.

  ‘Yes,’ she told him, blushing. ‘I talk to my dog.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘No worries. So do I.’

  They carried on walking in the same direction. Julie tried hard to think of something witty to remark on but was found wanting. The problem was that, embarrassing as it was to admit even to herself, she had a small crush on Wes.

  It was the accent, she told herself. And the body. Possibly even the bald head. In actual fact, Julie didn’t have a clue why. All she knew was that she kept looking out for him on the heath. It was a silly crush and quite ridiculous, she knew.

  Julie glanced at her watch. ‘Sorry but I’ve got to get to work,’ she told him. ‘Well, I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Bye. Have a good one.’

  It was only once she got home and glanced at her reflection in the hallway mirror that Julie realised she had a small piece of bracken in her hair, mud all over her jeans and absolutely no make-up on.

  What must he think of her?

  But Wes Seymour wasn’t thinking about the mud on Julie’s coat as he put his dog in the boot of the car. He wasn’t thinking about how messy her hair was either.

  He was thinking about her cobalt blue eyes and the way they flashed whenever she looked at him.