The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan (31 page)

‘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.

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.

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.

‘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.