The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan

by Alison Sherlock

  Caroline waited patiently, sitting on the sofa until he was ready. It had been exactly the same when Flora was born.

  Eventually, her husband crashed to a halt in front of her, his breathing rapid. ‘Okay,’ he panted. ‘The bags are in the car. The windows are locked. I’ve put the heating on low. I’ve got the car charger for the mobile. What else do I need?’

  Caroline stood up. ‘Me,’ she told him, taking hold of his arm.

  He held on to her as they made their slow and steady progress outside into the snow.

  ‘It’s so pretty,’ said Caroline as she lowered herself into the car.

  ‘God, I hope we don’t get snowed in on the way,’ moaned Jeff, getting into the driver’s seat.

  Caroline smiled. The hospital was only ten minutes away.

  She found herself surprisingly relaxed these days. Flora’s trousers had been muddy after their walk the previous day and it didn’t faze her. Nothing did any more. Well, not the small things in life.

  She rubbed her extended stomach, eager to meet her new son or daughter. She didn’t care which sex the baby was. As long as he or she was healthy.

  If the last nine months had taught her anything, it was that there was no point in worrying. The baby was coming and that was all that mattered.

  The snow squeaked under Julie’s wellington boots as they made their way through it the following morning.

  ‘So your friend’s okay?’ asked Wes.

  They had arranged to meet on the heath that morning for the dog walk.

  ‘She’s fine, thank goodness. Apparently all the worrying symptoms disappeared now her son has arrived safely into the world.’

  ‘Do you want a lift to the hospital later?’ he said. ‘My old Land Rover will be okay in the snow.’

  ‘Thanks. That would be great.’

  As they carried on walking, Julie watched Boris enjoy his first experience of snow. He was bounding about in the foot-deep downfall, leaping around as if on springs. Cadbury, Wes’s brown labrador, was equally excited, catching the snowballs Wes threw for him. Both dogs’ tails were wagging in unison.

  Julie knew how they felt. She too felt excited about the future for the first time in years. Her house had been on the market only a day before a developer had snapped it up at a hugely inflated price. Despite the recession, the land in Upper Grove was still valuable. She had already spotted a small cottage overlooking the green in Little Grove which should leave her with only a tiny mortgage. The relief of having the financial burden lifted from her was palpable.

  And then there was Wes. Perhaps her new start would include him too, if only as a friend. He was thoughtful, kind, and, most importantly in Julie’s eyes, trustworthy.

  He had even promised to help her move Uncle Sidney into a small bungalow in a retirement community village in Little Grove. Sidney had already offered the flat to Julie, who hadn’t been able to take it because it was upstairs with no garden. But she thought it would be perfect for Charley to live in.

  Because Julie wasn’t moving anywhere without her beloved Boris. He was older now, nearly nine months old. He was almost fully grown in his body, but his brain and spirit were still pure puppy. His black eyes remained the same too, soulful, as if ringed by charcoal.

  Boris was cuddly but clumsy. His tail could sweep everything from the coffee table in one movement. The house was covered with dog hair, but he was gentle with children. He was eager to please. And he just wanted to be with Julie, every hour of every day.

  ‘This is awesome,’ said Wes, staring around the heath. ‘We never had snow Down Under.’

  Julie shook her head. ‘Never seeing snow? That’s crazy.’

  Yes, there was only one small cloud in her sunny world, she thought. For sure, Wes was lovely but they had only shared one slow dance a few nights previously. Afterwards he had behaved like a perfect gentleman and she really, honestly, appreciated it. But did it mean that he was happy just being friends?

  ‘No snowball fights growing up,’ carried on Wes. ‘And what’s this snow angel that everyone goes on about?’

  ‘You don’t know?’ said Julie, in surprise.

  ‘Not a clue.’

  Julie glanced down at her jeans. Oh, well. She would just have to get changed when she was home. So she dropped to the ground on her back, the snow cold against her legs and back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Wes, laughing as he looked down at her.

  Julie moved her hands and legs across the snow. ‘Making an angel, of course.’

  She jumped up and showed him the pattern in the snow where she had just been lying, brushing herself down.

  ‘There you go. One snow angel!’

  But Wes was shaking his head. ‘Nope,’ he told her. ‘I can’t see it. You’ll have to show me again.’

  Suddenly he grabbed Julie’s hand before throwing himself on to the ground, pulling her down on top of him. She lay on her front, the whole length of their bodies touching, their faces inches apart.

  ‘So how does this work again?’ Wes asked, his tone husky as he stared deep into her eyes.

  Then he reached out to touch the back of her head and pulled her down for a long, deep kiss.

  When they finally drew apart, Julie was smiling. His kiss had told her everything she needed to know. His warm smile was everything she needed to see.

  They were suddenly interrupted by the dogs throwing themselves on to their owners, desperate to join in this new game in a wet, cold assault of paws and swishing tails.

  ‘Geroff!’ said Julie, jumping up to shoo them away.

  Wes stood up next to her, grabbing her hand to hold as they continued their walk.

  Chapter Eighty-nine

  CHARLEY’S WEEK HAD been very quiet. Not only had the snow made driving impossible, the Mini was not exactly cut out for extreme road conditions. But her friends were also quite difficult to get hold of.

  Of course, Caroline was in hospital most of the week until she and baby Joshua came home. But Charley also had difficulties talking to Julie whose conversation had become quite short, sweet and giggly. Charley was pleased for her friends but found herself alone once more.

  There had been no further contact from Mike. Perhaps he was as embarrassed by her drunken behaviour as Charley was.

  She had tried to rest and chill out in front of the television but couldn’t stop thinking about him. So she spent the remainder of the week experimenting with new ice-cream flavours and ideas, anything to occupy her mind.

  Charley had had a couple of trial runs at making iced margaritas and iced gin and lemon drink-desserts. For the younger at heart, she had also experimented with putting a scoop of chocolate-coated ice-cream on the end of a cocktail stick, a sort-of miniature lollipop.

  Throughout the week she played with pomegranates, orange water, nougat and anything else she could lay her hands on. With her music playing, the hours whizzed by until it was Monday morning once more and time to return to the shop.

  Now that the snow had melted, Caroline had arranged to meet her there with the promise of lots of emailed orders. As Charley drew up to the small parking space at the back of the shop, she realised Julie had also joined them.

  ‘Where’s the baby?’ asked Charley, as she got out of the Mini.

  ‘At home,’ replied Caroline, as they hugged. ‘I thought we’d go there afterwards for a cuddle.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Julie, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘So why are we meeting here?’ asked Charley. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You will,’ Julie told her, turning the key in the back door.

  Charley followed them into the kitchen but her friends didn’t stop walking. So she let them lead her into the shop at the front. Except it wasn’t the same any more.

  ‘What have you done?’ she asked, staring around.

  Gone were the plain walls and dull interior. Instead the walls had been painted in a distressed, marble effect which matched perfectly the trompe l’oeil on the long
empty wall. It showed a beautiful vista of some olive trees, a chair and table on a small patio and, beyond the trees and terracotta pots, the deep blue of the Mediterranean.

  Instead of the old mismatched plastic tables and chairs, there was new wooden furniture with beautiful matching cushions and tablecloths.

  ‘I managed to get most of the cushions done before the baby came,’ said Caroline. ‘But your mum and Aunty Peggy helped with painting the walls.’

  ‘And your dad sorted out the terracotta pots for the tables,’ said Julie.

  Then they realised that Charley’s eyes had filled with tears as she slowly took in the transformation.

  ‘I–I can’t believe it,’ she stammered.

  ‘Do you like it?’ asked Julie.

  ‘I love it,’ she told them, in a wavering voice. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

  They both came forward to put their arms around her.

  ‘You don’t need to,’ said Caroline, her voice equally unsteady. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  ‘And everyone else helped?’ said Charley. ‘My family? Jeff and Wes too?’

  Julie nodded. ‘And Mike.’

  Charley was astounded. ‘Mike?’ she whispered, her heart lurching at the sound of his name.

  ‘He painted the trompe l’oeil,’ Julie told her.

  Charley was speechless.

  ‘And that’s not all,’ said Caroline, grabbing a newspaper from one of the tables and thrusting it in front of her. ‘Read that!’

  The words swam in front of her eyes but Charley finally managed to establish that it was the food critic’s review of the Valentine’s Ball.

  ‘Bland and tasteless fare,’ she read aloud before looking up at her friends in horror.

  ‘Not that part,’ said Julie, tutting. ‘She’s talking about those dreadful canapés they served up.’

  ‘This part,’ said Caroline, pointing further down the page.

  Charley finally focussed on the words. ‘The rest of the food may have been a disaster but thankfully dessert saved the day,’ she read aloud. ‘It was a triumph of simple but stylish flavours, beautifully presented. If Miss Charlotte Summers’ business doesn’t achieve great success, I shall eat my hat. But I would much rather sample more of her delicious ice-cream.’

  Charley’s eyes filled with tears. She had done it. It had been a success.

  Caroline and Julie began to talk about the flat upstairs as somewhere for her to live. But Charley was still mulling over the amazing changes that had occurred in her life. Two years ago she had been stuck in a marriage that had run its course, bored with her life. Almost a year ago she had been bankrupted, a wreck, barely able to get through each day without breaking down into tears.

  Now here she was. She had a future doing something she really loved. She was ready for a new beginning, even if she was destined to remain single.

  Charley began to smile through her tears.

  Chapter Ninety

  ON THE FIRST Saturday in March, the shop was officially reopened. Charley walked around one last time, checking the ice-cream was still frozen, that the tables were clean and that they were ready.

  Then she crossed the floor and turned the sign over on the door so that it read ‘Open’. She turned back to survey the shop. Her shop. Or rather, their joint venture.

  After all, they had each contributed in their own way. Caroline was not only taking care of newborn Joshua, she was also supervising the paperwork, which was under such tight control that it appeared to take care of itself, leaving her free to chill out and play as much as she liked with her new son.

  Julie was due to move over the next couple of weeks and was going to continue working only part-time. She would help out in the shop on the odd afternoon, when she could leave her beloved Boris at the vet’s where he could play with Cadbury and get lots of attention. The girls knew she would be okay. After all, Caroline had already seen and approved of the engagement ring that Wes had shown her.

  As Charley headed back behind the counter, Julie grinned at her. ‘So . . . here we go again.’

  The ice-cream selection was predominantly chocolate-flavoured, in reference to the approaching Easter holidays. There were even chocolate-coated egg-shaped lollipops for the children.

  By lunchtime, the smile on Charley’s face was genuine and relaxed. She was so proud of herself and everyone who had helped her. The shop was busy and the orders for ice-cream cakes and desserts for parties and social gatherings were flooding in.

  The business was already bringing in enough money for to her to begin planning the first instalment of her repayment to her parents: £40,000 was still an awful lot of money but she was determined that they would be paid back in full, perhaps by the end of the following year.

  Charley had also decided to move into the flat over the shop. She found she would be sad to leave her little damp-ridden, poky flat. It had been a safe haven, eventually. But she would be free to paint the new one and perhaps get some more furniture. Nothing extravagant, though. She would never again be reckless with her money.

  There was a brief lull just before the mid-afternoon rush began and Charley took the opportunity to check the levels of ice-cream in the freezer cabinet. Seeing a pair of legs through the glass, she straightened up.

  ‘Hi. How can I help you?’

  The words trailed off as she found Mike standing at the other side of the counter.

  ‘You can take this from me, if you like,’ he told her. He held out a small but perfectly formed lemon tree in a terracotta pot. ‘I saw it the other day and thought it would do as a shop-warming present.’

  Charley was thrilled. She took it from him and walked to the far end of the counter, where it looked right at home with the marbled walls and Mediterranean feel. She took some time to fiddle with the position, anything to give her cheeks time to lose some of their pink heat.

  Finally she walked back to stand in front of Mike. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to stammer. ‘It’s lovely.’

  But she kept her eyes down to avoid looking at him. She knew her own would betray her feelings.

  ‘Charley?’ he said in a soft tone. ‘Please look at me.’

  ‘Darling!’ cried Maureen, suddenly arriving next to him. ‘Hello, Michael. Isn’t it super? I can’t believe how well you’ve done, Charlotte.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ replied Charley, finally daring to look at Mike.

  He was glancing between mother and daughter, looking, to Charley’s surprise, wound up about something. He opened his mouth to speak but missed the opportunity.

  ‘It said on the radio that there’s going to be another heatwave this summer,’ announced her mother. ‘So that’ll be good for business, won’t it?’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ replied Charley.

  ‘That Wayne’s not come back, has he? Dreadful little man. I said to Peggy, they were always the same that family . . .’

  Charley stole another glance at Mike whose frown had deepened. His jaw was clenched. She desperately wanted to ask him if everything was all right but her mother was still wittering on.

  ‘Did you know I went to school with his mother? Awful woman! The things she got up to would make the front pages of the Sun these days. Talking of which, did I tell you what happened at the knitting circle this week? Mrs Canfield told Gladys that . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, no! I can’t take this any more!’ Mike suddenly bellowed, causing the flow of gossip to grind to a halt.

  Charley glanced across at her mother who was now staring up at Mike in amazement.

  ‘Excuse me, but I have to talk to your daughter right now!’ he told Maureen.

  With that he marched around the counter, grabbed Charley’s hand and dragged her out into the back room. He looked to his left, saw Julie checking the large freezer and kept walking through the kitchen and into the back courtyard.

  Mike pulled her nearer to stand directly in front of him.

  ‘I have to talk to you,’ he almost shouted int
o her face. ‘You’re driving me crazy!’

  He stopped and breathed in deeply, his chest going up and down.

  Charley couldn’t believe how upset he was. He looked so troubled that she actually found herself suppressing a giggle.

  ‘I hope you realise that technically it’s only staff who are allowed back here,’ she told him, trying not to smirk.

  He threw up his hands. ‘Arrest me then. I’m past caring.’

  ‘I may be reported to the Health and Safety Officer.’

  Either he wasn’t listening or he had completely lost his sense of humour. Instead, he grasped her arms and took a deep breath.

  ‘I had this huge crush on you at school.’

  She was shocked. ‘You did?’

  ‘Don’t interrupt.’ He softened his tone as he stared down at her. ‘Please. I’ve just got to get this out, okay?’

  Charley nodded in reply, stunned by his words.

  ‘You broke my yellow pencil and I fell in love with you. Then you hooked up with Steve and broke my heart. I go to college, I see you in the village once in a while and I think, “I’m doing okay. I’m over you.”’ Mike dragged his hand through his hair. ‘Then you crash back into my life, snapping and sniping about your bankruptcy and your miserable idiot of a husband. And I think, no, I can do this. I can be strong. I really am over you.’

  She continued to stare up at him, trying to take in what he was telling her.

  ‘Except I’m not,’ he said, his voice catching. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop dreaming about you. I can’t stop wanting to kiss you, every hour of every day. But the only time you seem to want to kiss me is when you’re drunk on champagne.’

  He stared down at her.

  ‘I’m telling you here and now: I love you, Charlotte Summers.’

  ‘You do?’ she said, astounded.

  He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Yes. So you’re stuck with me and it’s too bad if you’re not happy with that idea.’

  Charley stared up into his face. The kind, generous face of a man who had helped, listened and cared when she had been as upset as he was now. He looked so distressed, so vulnerable, that she automatically reached up to stroke his cheek.