The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan (38 page)

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.

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 into 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.

‘I love the mural you painted for me in the shop,’ she told him in a soft tone. ‘I love
all the words of encouragement you gave me when I was really low. I love the fact that you got me home safely when I was off my head on champagne. I love the fact that I can trust you and feel safe with you.’

She pulled his face down close to hers. ‘I love you, Mike Shearer.’

Then she kissed him. As the kiss grew deeper, she felt his body relax and he swept his arms around her, holding her close.

He drew back briefly to look at her. ‘I will never hurt you.’

‘I know.’

He bent down and kissed her again and it felt so sweet, so right. Finally she was in his arms, where she belonged.

AN ATTENTION-SEEKING
cough from nearby made Charley and Mike draw apart from their embrace after many minutes.

‘Sorry,’ said Julie, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Well, I’m not really. Thank God you two finally got your act together! But it’s your mother, Charley. I can’t put her off coming back here for much longer.’

Charley nodded, turned to give Mike one last lingering kiss
on the lips and went back into the shop.

At that precise moment, her life had never felt better. She had built up a successful business, had survived the most horrendous year of her life and now she had the love of a very good man.

She knew she could cope on her own with whatever the future threw at her. But she was so very glad Mike was going to be with her. She found she couldn’t stop the
smile from showing on her face when she returned to stand behind the counter.

By now her mother was perched on a stool on the other side of it. She took silent note of her daughter’s happy expression and let a smile play over her lips.

‘I’m having trouble deciding,’ she said. ‘Do I want the chocolate or the pistachio?’

Charley began to sort out the individual tubs and cones which had got in
a bit of a muddle.

‘Of course, nuts are a bit exotic,’ said Maureen. ‘Did you get them from the local farm? And did you hear what happened to Scott’s Farm? Those squirrels can be little devils . . .’

Charley grabbed a pen and notepad, thinking that she would need to place another order for some more of the small plastic tubs in the next month.