The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan

by Alison Sherlock

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  CHARLEY SETTLED INTO a vacant armchair in one of the coffee houses in the high street. It was late in the afternoon and the place was packed with post-school-run families, their chatter mixing with the hiss and grind of the cappuccino machine.

  She had finally rung Samantha after she had left a third message on Charley’s voicemail and had agreed to meet her for coffee one evening after work.

  She put the cup down on the little table beside her, still bristling at the cost. Two pounds for a cup of coffee? She was barely making enough to last her the week and pay her bills and the rent without wasting money on this kind of luxury.

  The coffee was still too hot to drink so she stared out of the window, trying not to listen to the piped Christmas music over the speakers. December had arrived and the retail industry had clicked into hyper-festive mode.

  She wondered where the last couple of weeks had gone. It had been so busy, and yet so bizarre as well. A couple of Caroline’s friends had put in orders for ice-cream cakes and then some of their friends in turn. It was all very startling but Charley’s bank balance was going to look a little healthier by the end of the Christmas rush.

  ‘Excuse me? It’s Charlotte, isn’t it?’

  Charley looked up at the women who was standing next to her and tried to recall where she had seen her before.

  ‘I’m Emily. We met at the Hallowe’en Party.’

  ‘Of course.’ Charley stood up and smiled at her.

  ‘Look, it’s a bit of a cheek but I was wondering about your ice-cream. The other parents are all talking about it. It’s my son’s birthday in a fortnight. Terrible time to have it, in December. He’s still going on about your Hallowe’en face puddings. I was wondering if you could do something like that for his birthday party? It’s a clown theme.’

  Charley was having trouble keeping up with the other orders she had received but Emily looked so tired, and so fretful, that she found herself saying, ‘Of course.’

  The woman brightened up. ‘That’s wonderful.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Samantha, arriving laden with shopping bags.

  ‘Hi,’ said Charley. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘Look, I can see you’re busy,’ said Emily. ‘Shall I give you a ring soon to talk about it?’

  Charley scribbled down her mobile number.

  ‘Great,’ said Emily. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Charley called after her as she pushed the buggy out of the café.

  Samantha was shrugging off her coat and settling herself down on the armchair opposite. ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘She wants me to make some ice-cream for her son’s birthday party.’

  ‘Another one? Wow. Well, the money will certainly come in handy for you. You still owe your parents thousands, don’t you?’

  Charley took a sharp intake of breath. ‘I am going to pay it all back as soon as I can,’ she said.

  However, Samantha wasn’t listening. She was too busy rifling through her bags. She lifted up a top for Charley to admire and saw her expression.

  ‘Don’t worry about it for now,’ said Samantha, all bright and breezy once more. ‘So what do you think of these?’

  Charley admired the purchases. The new knee-length leather boots gave her a pang of envy but it quickly passed.

  Samantha put everything back into the bags and leant forward with a glint in her eye. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  Charley took a sip of coffee and waited.

  ‘He’s definitely leaving his wife.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Richard!’ Samantha beamed. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? We’re finally going to be together.’

  ‘What about his kids?’

  ‘He’s going to work out access at the weekends.’

  ‘And he’s okay with that?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. We’ll live together at my place until we can find somewhere bigger. Imagine! I’ll get to see him each and every day. And I’ll never again have to worry about him sleeping in the same bed as her.’ Samantha shot Charley a look. ‘Well? Aren’t you happy for me?’

  ‘Congratulations,’ she replied dully.

  ‘Thanks a bunch. I can see how excited you are about it all.’

  And she was right. Charley was having trouble mustering up any enthusiasm for Samantha and her life at that moment. ‘Doesn’t it ever occur to you that I was the woman left behind when my husband left me for his mistress? That this may be a difficult subject for me to cope with?’

  ‘I know that, silly. But this is different. It’s not like you and Steve.’

  ‘I’m trying to understand,’ she told Samantha. ‘But there’s a lot of other stuff going on at the moment.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Charley sighed. ‘Like Caroline. Have you seen her?’

  ‘Not for a while.’

  ‘She could do with support from all of us at the moment. She’s having a really hard time trying to cope with Jeff’s redundancy and being put on permanent bed rest. She was really ill in hospital.’

  ‘I know.’ Samantha sighed. ‘And I do feel sorry for her, really I do. But . . . and don’t hate me for saying this . . . it’s just that I’m so happy at the moment. My dreams are coming true after all this time and I don’t want to be around anyone who brings me down. This is my time, my moment in the sunshine.’ At least she had the grace to look a bit sheepish after that. ‘Does that make me sound selfish?’

  ‘Yes. Actually, it does.’

  Sumantha pouted. ‘I’ll buy her a present.’

  Charley shook her head. ‘You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about money or presents, it’s about being there, listening, supporting. All the things you’re crap at.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Stop using me for free counselling,’ Charley told her. ‘It would be nice if you ever rang me to ask how I am, for a change. But it’s always about you. Never about anyone else.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  Charley grabbed her coat and stood up. ‘You never called when my husband walked out on me. You made it no secret that you consider being a cleaner to be the lowest possible form of work. There’s been no support from you so far, and I don’t think there ever will be. We all have to mop you up every time bloody Richard leaves you in the lurch, but you don’t even try to help us when the tables are turned.’

  Samantha was open-mouthed, shocked by Charley’s anger.

  ‘You weren’t there for me when I was at rock-bottom. You didn’t care about Julie when Boris was unwell. Caroline was seriously ill in hospital and still you weren’t bothered.’ Charley shook her head in disgust. ‘And you know what? You can go ahead and live with Richard, but this is a man who has a history of cheating on his wife. What makes you think he won’t do the exact same thing to you?’

  ‘He loves me!’

  ‘Yeah, and he probably told the same thing to his wife once as well.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re being so cruel. I thought we were friends?’

  Charley stared down at her. ‘I’ve decided to measure my friends by the way they support me through the bad times, not the good. I understand that things have been difficult for you, but I believe I’m always going to have to make all the running in any friendship with you. And that’s not good enough for me. I need friends I can rely on.’

  She shrugged her coat on. ‘Goodbye, Samantha.’

  And then Charley walked out.

  Chapter Seventy

  ‘SHE’S REALLY UPSET,’ said Julie, leaning against the doorframe in the kitchen behind Sidney’s sweet shop later that week.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Charley told her, wiping out the inside of the large freezer. ‘I know that makes me sound harsh, but I have to be sure I can rely on people and I just can’t rely on Samantha. She hasn’t been there for me, you or Caroline. And you know it, too.’

  Julie shrugged in tacit agreement. ‘It’s great that you’re
getting so many orders,’ she said to change the subject. ‘Bizarre but great.’

  ‘I know,’ said Charley. ‘I think my ice-cream is the latest must-have accessory.’

  ‘People seem to like the fact that it’s not mass-produced,’ replied Julie. ‘Is it mainly birthday stuff?’

  ‘There are a lot of Christmas orders too.’

  She found herself constantly brimming with ideas and having to write down a list of them for when people rang with the next order. She had already tried out a frozen chocolate yule log, using a fork to create the tree-bark effect before the ice-cream hardened. All it needed was ten minutes out of the freezer to soften up before serving. This was making it particularly popular as a back-up dessert, especially once she had dusted it with edible gold glitter.

  ‘Nothing says Christmas like a bit of sparkle,’ Julie had told her.

  Another favourite was the ice-cream layer cake. Charley layered together different colours and flavours of ice-cream in a loaf tin, chocolate and vanilla looking especially striking. The clingfilm with which she lined the tin seemed to work well in lifting out the dessert in one piece, ready for eating. That had worked so well that Charley was going to experiment with larger, round tins to make ice-cream cakes more suitable for general entertaining once Christmas was over.

  She had created an ice-cream Christmas pudding the previous night. To a plain base, heavily flavoured with cinnamon and mixed spice, she had added copious amounts of dried fruit and cranberries. All it needed was a good splash of alcohol. But that was expensive so she was having a rethink. Or else a begging mission to her parents’ house.

  She was also desperate to make a gingerbread house filled with ice-cream. But how to get them to stick together? And what kind of mould should she use?

  Charley felt a frisson of excitement as they locked up the shop before leaving. It might just be until Christmas was over, but for the month of December she would be making ice-cream every day. And that thought made her smile.

  On the way home they popped in to see Caroline.

  She had been busy using her laptop to organise home deliveries for all of her food and Christmas shopping. And she was organising the girls’ as well.

  ‘You shouldn’t be doing any of this,’ protested Charley.

  ‘Look,’ Caroline told them, ‘I’ve watched all the movies you lent me. I’ve finished the books. I’ve written my Christmas cards. I’m only lying here doing nothing. Dear God, let me do something!’

  If time was in short supply, money was even more so. But they were all finding that if they clubbed together, the cost of Christmas wasn’t so high as in previous years.

  New decorations weren’t necessary as Julie had picked up lots of pine cones during her walks and they were now sprayed gold or silver, depending on the chosen colour scheme. Flora had been let loose with cardboard, glitter and glue. The house was a disaster zone but the decorations were pretty enough and Caroline had shed a small tear on seeing Flora’s glittery home-made angel perched on top of the tree.

  Unused former presents such as bubble bath and hand cream were being wrapped up for various relations. Wrapping paper was shared and leftover cards cut up to be used as gift tags.

  They looked at the wrapped presents lying all around them.

  ‘I see you’re getting organised,’ said Julie, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Thank God,’ muttered Caroline. ‘You know that Coke advert which says the holidays are coming, over and over?’

  ‘I love that one,’ said Charley.

  ‘Not me,’ said Caroline. ‘It panics me into thinking, “What have I got left to do?”’

  ‘Easy,’ said Julie. ‘Watch your blood pressure.’

  ‘But actually I’m on top of everything this year,’ said Caroline. ‘Now the presents are packed, I’ve really nothing else to do.’

  ‘Wish I could say the same,’ said Charley. ‘I’m drowning in work. And phone calls from new customers. It’s great but I just haven’t got time to deal with them.’

  ‘How organised are you?’ said Caroline. ‘You’ve got to answer the phone otherwise you’ll miss out on new business.’

  ‘I can’t answer the phone when I’m cleaning,’ Charley told her.

  ‘Then give them my number,’ said Caroline, quickly shaking her head at the protests from everyone else. ‘Just give me a description of all your recipes and I’ll deal with them.’

  ‘You should be taking it easy,’ said Charley.

  ‘I will be lying down on this sofa when I answer the phone,’ Caroline told them. ‘Scout’s honour.’

  Charley looked from friend to friend before finishing with Caroline.

  ‘If there’s one blip in your blood pressure,’ she told her, ‘one tiny bounce, then the deal’s off. Okay?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Chapter Seventy-one

  THE PAVEMENT WAS still slippery from the harsh frost of the night before. A couple of times Julie slid on it and slammed into Charley.

  ‘Why are you wearing the only pair of high-heeled boots you possess?’ asked Charley.

  Julie shrugged her shoulders. ‘They still rub so I thought I could wear them in.’

  ‘Did you wear them on your walk this morning?’

  ‘No.’

  Charley knew Julie was lying. ‘They make your legs look nice and long.’

  Julie gave her a shy smile. ‘Do they?’

  ‘Yeah. I bet Wes thought so too.’

  Julie had finally told Caroline and Charley about her small crush. To her surprise, they were both enthusiastic about the vet.

  ‘So? Did he like the boots?’ prompted Charley.

  ‘I didn’t seem him this morning, actually,’ said Julie, in a haughty tone. Not through lack of trying. Poor Boris had been round the heath twice and was now laid out on the lounge carpet in a state of exhaustion.

  As they walked past the village green with the cold chilling their faces, Charley couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the splendour of winter. Little Grove village green was still glittering with frost, untouched by any footprints. The pond had a thin layer of ice on it, which would crack when the ducks appeared later that morning for their bread feast handed out by local toddlers. Even the spider’s webs which criss-crossed the hedges were objects of beauty in the freezing weather.

  They crossed the road. The Saturday morning traffic had yet to build and the roads were empty.

  ‘Tell me again why we’re up at the crack of dawn?’ asked Julie.

  ‘It’s hardly early. It’s gone eight o’clock,’ Charley told her. ‘But the best stuff goes first and I don’t want to be around once the Christmas rush gets going. It’ll be murder down here in about two hours’ time.’

  They crossed the near-empty car park and headed through the garden shop. Instantly they were bathed in warmth and the tinny noise of singing, illuminated snowmen who were vying to be heard above the Christmas carols on the main speakers. It might have been early but they weren’t the only ones up and about. There were quite a few shoppers, mainly women, already packing their baskets with gifts.

  But they weren’t there to peruse the Christmas tree decorations or the expensive fudge. They headed straight through and back out into the morning air, across the area which was stacked with Christmas fir trees ready to be sold and into a large marquee.

  The earthy smell of fruit and vegetables hit their noses as soon as they went through the opening. Long trestle tables were covered with piles of fresh produce from the local farms. Potatoes covered in earth bumped up against carrots, parsnips and brussels sprouts that were still on their stalks.

  But Charley wasn’t interested in the vegetables. She weaved her way over to the tables where the deep red of cranberries shone next to piles of green apples.

  ‘So? What do we need, boss?’ said Julie, looking at her.

  Charley grabbed the list from her pocket. ‘About three pounds of pears. The same of oranges.’

  Julie wandered of
f to harass one of the farmers for a discount whilst Charley mooched along to the table piled high with cranberries. Scarlet, plump and bursting with flavour, as opposed to the shrivelled dried versions in the supermarket, they were ideal for the Christmas pudding ice-cream which was one of her most requested recipes at the moment.

  According to Caroline, Charley’s voicemail was no longer filled with people looking for money. These days the messages were from people offering to pay for her ice-cream. When Caroline tried to explain that time was running short and Charley might not be able to meet their order before Christmas, they were suddenly offering such outrageous money that she found she couldn’t afford to say no.

  She picked up the cranberries, some pine nuts and dates. She also added some lemons and walnuts to her load. When she met up with Julie by the entrance, they were each carrying a couple of heavy carrier bags.

  Weighed down with their purchases, they had trouble negotiating their way through the small crowd which had begun to form around the Christmas trees for sale. To Charley’s surprise, Mike was standing in front of the forest of trees. He was in his normal gardening clothes but with a money pouch slung around his waist.

  ‘Hi,’ said Charley, going up to him. ‘I didn’t know you were working here?’

  He nodded. ‘Just for this month. It helps pay the mortgage when the garden work gets a bit slow at this time of year.’

  ‘You expecting it to be busy today?’

  ‘Are you kidding? There are nine days until Christmas. It’s gonna be hell.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Do you know how much ice-cream I’ve got to make and deliver before Christmas Eve?’

  She took a moment to close her eyes and inhale the lovely pine scent.

  ‘You want a tree?’

  Charley shook her head. ‘Not in my budget, I’m afraid. I’m only here for the fruit. Besides, I don’t think my flat’s big enough to hold even a pot plant.’

  ‘Everyone should have a Christmas tree.’

  Charley gave him a rueful grin. ‘Maybe next year.’

  They went back via the shop, picking up some vanilla pods on the way before heading across the village green to Charley’s parents’ house.