The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan

by Alison Sherlock

  Halfway across, Julie stopped abruptly. ‘Tell me again why we couldn’t drive all the way to the farm shop instead of leaving the car at your mother’s?’

  ‘It’s such a beautiful morning,’ Charley told her. ‘And I so rarely get any fresh air these days. You’re just moaning because you’re in your fancy boots.’

  They arrived at Charley’s parents’ house and found them both having breakfast in the kitchen. They dumped their bags in the hallway before sinking on to chairs around the table.

  ‘Was it busy?’ asked Maureen. ‘I need some more mincemeat and they had some of that organic stuff on special offer. I had a bit of a disaster with the mince pies and need to make a few more.’

  Charley caught her father’s eye and they briefly exchanged knowing looks.

  ‘They’re not that bad,’ said Mum, who had caught the exchange. ‘They taste fine, they’re just a bit well done.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be lovely with a bit of orange marmalade ice-cream,’ said Julie. ‘Your daughter says it’s the best thing for them.’

  Maureen turned to her daughter. ‘You will bring some for Christmas Day, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum. I’ve still got so much to do . . .’

  ‘Coo-eee!’ came a voice from the hallway. ‘Anyone home?’

  Aunty Peggy came into the kitchen. ‘Good morning, all. It’s nippy out there today. Not good for my rheumatism. Still, I should be able to struggle across to the bingo tonight, despite the immense pain. You get one free sherry ’cos it’s the festive season.’ She poured herself a cup of tea from the pot. ‘Maureen, I finally got a Christmas card from Ivy in the post this morning.’

  ‘She didn’t die then?’

  ‘Just a kidney stone apparently. But you’ll never guess what her Harold’s been up to . . .’

  Charley followed her father’s swift exit out of the kitchen, leaving Julie agog at the rumour mill.

  ‘Dad, can I ask a favour?’ she said, once they were in the lounge.

  ‘Ask away,’ he said, putting on his glasses and looking at the sports news on the back page of his paper.

  ‘You know that bottle of brandy Peggy brought you back from her holiday?’

  He peered over his glasses. ‘You mean that stuff that strips the enamel from your teeth? Bit early for a tipple, isn’t it?’

  ‘I was wondering if I could take it off your hands? I need to soak the cranberries in brandy for a recipe and I don’t think it matters too much if the booze isn’t the best money can buy. Unless you were going to use it?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have thought so. I’ve got all the paint stripper I need in the shed.’

  He opened up the drinks cabinet and rifled around until he drew out a large bottle in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. He then went back in and pulled out a smaller bottle.

  ‘She got us this little number the year before last. Cherry brandy, I think. Don’t want that as well, do you? It made your mother go most peculiar when she had a drop.’

  ‘It’ll be lovely with a chocolate recipe I’ve got.’

  ‘Done. Glad to get them out the house, to be honest.’ He handed over the bottles and sat down in his armchair again with the newspaper.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Charley gave him a kiss on the top of his head. ‘I’d better be off. Things to do, ice-cream to make.’

  ‘Charlotte?’ he called out as she was leaving the room.

  She poked her head back round the door. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re doing really well, you know. I’m proud of you.’

  They exchanged smiles before he went back to reading his newspaper.

  Charley was still smiling as she grabbed her car keys from the green bowl in the hallway, feeling a little proud of herself as well.

  Chapter Seventy-two

  CHARLEY SPENT THE last afternoon before the holidays gossiping with Mrs Wilberforce in front of the Christmas tree Mike had brought for her. It was tiny, only about two feet high, but that meant she could easily reach the top to put the angel on.

  Charley also noticed that he had placed logs of wood beside every fireplace in the house, as anxious as she was that Mrs Wilberforce should keep warm. He had even made sure the logs weren’t too large so that she could pick them all up.

  Charley went outside to see him, suddenly realising how dark it was at only four o’clock in the afternoon. She found Mike in the wood shed.

  ‘Are you nearly finished?’ she asked, clapping her hands together for warmth.

  ‘You need some gloves,’ he said.

  ‘I was too busy saving up this week.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re eating enough? You’ve lost a lot of weight.’

  ‘You sound like my mother.’

  Mike held out his own gloves to her which Charley gratefully slipped on. They were far too big for her hands but were soft and warm, probably thermal.

  ‘What are you up to this weekend?’

  ‘Making a ton of ice-cream. What about you?’

  ‘Last weekend of the Christmas tree rush.’

  Charley peered outside at the starry sky above. ‘It’s colder. Might get a frost.’

  ‘So clear you can even see the Pleiades.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Seven Sisters. Only six can be seen without a telescope.’

  Mike stood close to her and pointed up into the sky. Charley leant in close to trace the direction in which he was pointing. A small cluster of stars was visible against the dark sky.

  As they stood there she became aware that she was now very close to him, could feel his breath on her cheek. She slowly turned her head until their faces were inches apart.

  ‘Do you fancy a festive drink?’ he asked. ‘Between colleagues, as it were.’

  She smiled but took a small step backwards. ‘I’d love to but I’m so busy with work. Ice-cream work, I mean.’

  Mike straightened up. ‘Not to worry. It was just a thought.’

  Charley smiled before scuttling back to the house, eager to get into the warmth.

  Flora was looking very tired, even though she kept telling Caroline there was no way she was going to be able to sleep that night.

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ Caroline told Jeff as he came into the lounge. ‘That means Father Christmas, reindeer and presents are all on their way!’

  ‘I know but she wasn’t like this last year, was she?’

  Caroline smiled. ‘You were at the office a lot last year.’

  ‘That’s going to change with the new job,’ he said, drawing her close to him. ‘It’s local. Not so much pressure.’

  Not so much money either, thought Caroline, but she was trying not to worry about that. In fact, she was trying very hard not to worry about anything.

  Her six-month pregnancy appointment had gone well. The midwife had said the bed rest was working but that Caroline had to continue with it until the end of the pregnancy, to ensure the baby would be all right. Plus Jeff had been offered a position in a nearby town as Finance Director. It was a step up the career ladder, even if it meant less pay than his previous job.

  ‘We’ll get by, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m going to save a fortune in train fares. I might even cycle to work. It’s only five miles away.’

  They had already sold Jeff’s large estate car and replaced it with a smaller hatchback. Luckily they had never had any credit card bills, never owed any money. They would get by on Jeff’s new smaller wage.

  Flora came downstairs to curl up on the sofa with them and drink a glass of milk. She sat between Caroline and Jeff whilst they took turns to read The Night Before Christmas. The decorated tree twinkled in the corner.

  For Caroline it was the best Christmas Eve she had ever had. Some things were priceless.

  Julie came into the lounge at the sound of slurping.

  Boris hadn’t freaked out too much at having a real tree inside the house, especially when he’d discovered that the tree stand had a well around the bottom which held water. Of course, Ju
lie had not put any chocolate decorations on the branches.

  He was proving to be a welcome distraction from not having her mum with her for the first time at Christmas. She planned to visit the grave on Christmas morning before picking up Sidney to bring him over for lunch. He had been suffering from a heavy cold so it wouldn’t be a hectic day but at least they would spend it together. And with Boris, of course.

  Nick was staying up north with his new girlfriend who sounded as dubious as all her predecessors. The cheque which Julie had sent with his Christmas card had already been cashed.

  Having finished work until the New Year, she now had more time on her hands for lengthy walks across the heath. Unfortunately, there was no chance of bumping in to Wes as he had gone back to Australia to visit his family for Christmas.

  Julie found she missed their brief conversations and his gentle humour. It was a miserable time of year to be single.

  She sank on to the sofa, placing her large glass of red wine on the table next to her. Boris leapt up beside her and spun around until finally sinking into a comfortable position. Julie knew she really shouldn’t let him up on the sofa but she’d rather got used to their nightly snuggle. And besides, it was Christmas Eve. Her new next-door neighbour seemed to have fireworks for most occasions. If they went off tonight, Julie wanted Boris close to her.

  Love Actually had just begun on the television when the first volley of fireworks rang out from nearby. Boris abruptly woke up and trembled with every bang and whizz from outside.

  Julie switched channels, deciding not to put up with a schmaltzy love story which would only make her feel even more miserable. She soon found a wildlife documentary about the African plains. Boris was always fascinated by animals on the television so she switched up the volume and held him close to her.

  Eventually they both fell asleep in front of the flickering fire.

  Chapter Seventy-three

  CHARLEY WAS SLUMPED exhausted in her armchair when the doorbell rang. She sat bolt upright, panicking as she tried to remember if she had promised to let anyone have their ice-cream that evening. But surely everything had been delivered, hadn’t it?

  It wasn’t a customer. It was Mike.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ said Charley, stunned. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He reached behind him and lifted up the smallest but most perfect Christmas tree. It was about three foot tall and planted in a red tub.

  ‘Small but perfectly formed,’ he said.

  Charley’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. She had deliberately not thought about putting up any decorations; hers were still hidden in a box in the hall cupboard. The few cards she had received, she had stuck to the wall in an attempt to hide some of the damp. A Christmas tree felt like a huge luxury to her.

  ‘Well?’ said Mike softly.

  She nodded and brushed away a tear, holding the door open for him.

  She followed Mike into the lounge and watched him put the Christmas tree in the corner.

  ‘There’s a socket there for your lights, I think. You’ve got some, haven’t you?’

  Charley nodded but was still a bit weepy.

  ‘And it’s rooted so you can plant it out afterwards.’

  She didn’t have a garden but she wasn’t about to spoil his generosity by saying so.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Charley’s voice caught as she spoke.

  Mike stood in front of her. ‘Like I said, everyone should have a Christmas tree.’ He brushed away her tears with his rough hand.

  ‘You smell like a forest,’ she told him.

  ‘And you smell of oranges,’ he said, smiling down at her.

  ‘It’s the marmalade ice-cream.’

  ‘Smells fantastic. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything home-made. I tend to live on ready meals.’ He held up his hand. ‘I know, a typical bachelor.’

  ‘Then you should have something home-made.’

  She swept past him into the kitchen and opened up the door of the tiny freezer. She brought out a box and put it on the counter.

  ‘There you are,’ she told him, putting it into a carrier bag. ‘Christmas pudding ice-cream. It’s my number one bestseller.’

  ‘I can’t take this from you.’

  She held out the bag. ‘I can’t give you any money for the tree.’

  ‘I didn’t want any money,’ he said, sounding most affronted. ‘It’s a gift.’

  ‘And so is this,’ she told him, banging the box against his chest. ‘Anyway, I need the space in the freezer. You’ll be doing me a favour. Just bring the box back after Christmas.’

  In the end, he took the bag from her.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked him, smiling. ‘I’ve only got cheap brandy, I’m afraid. I mainly use it for cooking.’

  ‘I’d love to but I can’t.’ He looked a bit sheepish. ‘I’ve got a date.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A set-up from one of my mates.’

  Charley stared up at him and realised he was actually blushing.

  ‘That’s great,’ she told him, trying to sound bright.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied, sounding like it wasn’t. ‘Anyway . . .’

  ‘Anyway . . .’ she said.

  But neither of them finished the sentence.

  They went back into the hallway where Charley opened the front door for him.

  ‘Thank you so much for the tree,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And thanks for this.’ He jiggled the bag in his hand.

  ‘You’re not at work this week, are you?’

  He shook his head. ‘All done.’

  ‘So I guess I’ll see you in the New Year?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He stared at her for a moment before leaning down. Charley thought he was going to kiss her on the lips but it was just a peck on the cheek, his stubble brushing against her skin.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Charley.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mike.’

  The smell of pine lingered in the hallway long after he had left.

  Chapter Seventy-four

  JANUARY SLIPPED AND shivered its way into the landscape.

  ‘Glad you’re back,’ read the note from Mrs Smith. ‘I noticed over the holidays that the shower surrounds were getting horribly dirty. Can you make sure that you give them a thorough going over every week?’

  Charley crumpled up the note and threw it into the kitchen bin. She was having trouble getting back into the cleaning routine. Far too many lie-ins and too much pottering in the kitchen over the Christmas holidays had made her temporarily forget how physical this job was.

  She had also assumed that she would have some spare time now that the festive season had finished and everyone would be recovering, both financially and figure-wise. But still the orders flooded in, with her fat-free fruit sorbets doing a roaring trade. She had even had a recommendation from the local diet club, which had brought in extra sales.

  Charley began to wonder how much money she could make if she didn’t have the cleaning to tie up her time.

  The girls met one evening at Caroline’s house. The days of fixed dates every fortnight had long since gone as their lives had changed. Now they saw each other at least three times a week, normally more.

  Not that there was much incentive to go outside at that time of year. The short days and long dark evenings made everyone want to hide indoors in the warmth. The tree stems and branches remained bare and spring seemed a very long way away.

  They gathered in front of Caroline’s wood-burning stove – another money-saving addition to the house. She found she liked the spit and crackle of the flames during the day. She was now seven months pregnant but still bound to the sofa for the duration of the pregnancy.

  ‘So, did you hear anything from Samantha?’ asked Julie.

  Charley shook her head. She had found, to her surprise, that she didn’t actually miss having Samantha in her life.

&nb
sp; ‘What’s the new flavour of the month?’ asked Julie.

  ‘Orange ice,’ replied Charley. ‘But it’s still creamy because I’ve added low-fat yoghurt. The diet club can’t get enough of it.’

  ‘That’s because they’re still having puddings, just not fattening ones,’ said Caroline. ‘And I’ve had some orders for Easter as well.’

  ‘Already?’ Charley was aghast.

  ‘You’re still enjoying it, aren’t you?’ asked Julie.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘But there just aren’t enough hours in the evenings and weekends.’

  ‘I know,’ said Julie, nodding her head. ‘By the time I’ve finished work and walked Boris, it feels like there’s only just about time for dinner, bath and bed.’

  Plus she still felt terribly guilty about leaving him alone each day. She would rush back in her lunch hour to feed him and let him run about the garden, but she could feel her stress levels rising.

  ‘I wish I could help,’ said Caroline.

  ‘You are,’ said Charley. ‘You take the orders, work out who needs their ice-cream first. Plus you make sure I get paid as well.’

  ‘I’ve got to do something,’ said Caroline. ‘I ended up watching daytime television the other day.’

  But she was secretly enjoying her time on the sofa. If only she could do something about the guilt.

  ‘So, what are our New Year resolutions?’ asked Julie.

  Charley shrugged her shoulders in response but Caroline was beaming at them both.

  ‘Now, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, lying prostrate on this sofa day in, day out. I was thinking we should all follow the same resolution.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ asked Julie.

  ‘I was thinking that this should be the year for us all to be brave.’

  ‘Brave?’ repeated Charley.

  ‘Absolutely. And you can’t argue with a poorly pregnant woman, can you? Come over at the weekend and we’ll make our pledges then. You’ve got forty-eight hours to decide.’

  Charley and Julie stared at each other, wondering what on earth they were going to come up with.