The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan (33 page)

‘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,
Julie 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.

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.

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.

‘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.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Caroline smiled to herself as she thought of her friends’ reactions to her suggestion of a group resolution.

Of course, she had already decided how she would be brave. She would be brave enough to let go. To relax. To let things slide.

So much had happened to all of them over the past six months. Did she really need to fret that Flora wasn’t learning
Mandarin any more? Especially as her daughter had never seemed to enjoy it. She’d certainly never smiled after the lessons in the way she smiled when she helped Julie take Boris for a walk. Or when she had been playing hide and seek on the heath with her friends from school.

So Caroline was going to relax and give Flora the greatest gift she could think of. She would have the time to dream, to
play, to laugh, to run. To be a child.

She would also try not to set herself and Jeff such high standards. Her husband was enjoying his new work, along with the much shorter commute. He was home by six o’clock and therefore able to help with dinner plus Flora’s bath-time and story-reading.

He and Caroline had cuddled together on the sofa the previous night. ‘I love being with you both,’ he’d
told her. ‘I always felt a bit isolated before. Like I didn’t know my own daughter.’

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘We love having you home more too.’

‘We can make the mortgage payments, but I’m afraid that’s the end of our fancy holidays for a while.’

Caroline shrugged her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as we’re all together.’

‘Even camping?’

She grimaced briefly before
smiling. ‘Even camping.’

The favourite part of Julie’s day was also the favourite part of Boris’ day as well. That first release from his lead on the morning walk caused her dog to run and bounce with glee, his tail swinging round and round with joy. It always brought a smile to her face.

‘Someone’s cheerful this morning,’ said Wes, appearing from the opposite direction.