The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan (6 page)

BOOK: The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan
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Room by room, day by day, Charley’s home was gradually being dismantled. As she watched it all being carried out of the house, she felt ashamed at the
amount of money they had squandered over the years. Did they really need four flat-screen televisions when only two people lived in the house? An iPod docking station in most of the rooms? Every conceivable games console? Two computers, a scanner, laptop and a couple of iPads?

Thankfully, Caroline had reminded her to copy their most important files on to memory sticks before all the computer
equipment was taken away. Charley had begun to move irreplaceable items to her parents’ house for safe-keeping. Unfortunately, this meant running into her family, all of whom she was trying to avoid as the nagging had become incessant.

‘You’ve left Mum and Dad up to their necks in it,’ said Victoria, her younger sister. ‘They’re so upset,’ added Elizabeth, the other twin.

‘I know!’ Charley told
them, slumping on to the sofa. ‘I’ve apologised, haven’t I?’

‘They can’t live on apologies, can they?’ said Victoria, scowling across at her from her position in the armchair.

‘I don’t understand where all the money went,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You were loaded.’

Charley thought about her empty house but said nothing.

‘And where’s Steve this afternoon?’ snapped Victoria.

‘He’s busy.’

Charley glanced
at the clock on the mantelpiece and wondered how quickly she could excuse herself from this interrogation.

Maureen brought in some tea plates and placed them on the coffee table. The imminent arrival of a home-made cake made everyone pause for thought. But not for long.

‘What’s more important than his wife’s family?’ said Victoria.

Her husband Adam shot her a look. ‘Leave it,’ he said, in a
quiet tone.

Victoria ignored him. ‘I just don’t understand why Steve wants to be by himself at the moment. He’s still married to you, isn’t he? You should be getting through this together.’

Luckily Maureen had to dash back into the kitchen to sort out the cake so Charley made her excuses and followed suit.

‘Want a hand, Mum?’

‘No, thank you, darling.’ Maureen ripped off some pieces of kitchen
roll to use as napkins. ‘So? Where is Steve?’

Charley gave a theatrical sigh. ‘He’s trying to get our lives back in order.’

‘And then you’ll sort out things between you?’

‘Yes.’

Maureen raised her eyebrows. ‘So you might have time to see about giving me some more grandchildren soon.’

‘Aren’t two enough?’

‘There’s no need to feel jealous of your sister. You’ve still got a few childbearing
years left in you.’

Charley glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go soon.’

‘Have you had your tubes checked?’

‘Mum! Can we focus on one thing a time?’

‘I just thought it might be a bit of good news. Lord knows we could do with some.’

Charley gulped back her own tears as she watched her mother’s eyes fill. She stepped forward and was enveloped in a hug.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, snuffling into
Maureen’s shoulder.

‘I know.’

‘And we will repay you. I don’t know how long it’ll take but we’ll get there, I promise.’

Her mother smiled but didn’t reply, instead picking up the barely risen chocolate cake and leaving the kitchen.

Charley knew her mother didn’t really believe her. That the whole family was expecting her to fail in her promises. But she was determined that every penny would
be returned to her parents. She just didn’t know as yet how it could be done.

Chapter Ten

BY THE MIDDLE
of March, the ground floor of the house was bare. From the lounge, nearly everything had been taken, including the TV, sofas, chairs, glass coffee table, fancy artwork, crystal vases, mirrors, and other pretty things she had picked up over the years. Charley had kept all the photographs, but had to relinquish their expensive silver frames.

The study was now missing its
desk, chair, bookcase and all the computer equipment. The den had been stripped of its games consoles, leather chairs and huge television. Even the hallway had lost its table, mirror and hat stand.

The Wednesday night dinners with the girls had slipped whilst Charley’s life disintegrated. But as soon as the Sold sign went up outside, she insisted they came to her home. It was left unspoken, but
this was probably the last time they would meet there.

The oak table and chairs in the kitchen were now missing so Julie suggested having a picnic indoors. Caroline brought some rugs and cushions to sit on.

‘I can’t believe they even took the microwave,’ said Samantha in disbelief. She lived on healthy ready-meals.

Charley nodded. ‘The double fridge-freezer went today as well.’

The only appliance
in which they could now keep food cold was the wine cooler because that was built into the kitchen cupboards. Steve had drunk his way through most of the contents, so there was room for the ever decreasing food supply.

The girls had brought a mixture of cold meats, quiches and salads with them. They all felt a little sad when they saw the boxes of home-made ice-creams defrosting on the counter.

‘It would have been a shame to let this lot go to waste,’ said Julie, licking the dark chocolate from her spoon.

‘This praline’s fantastic,’ said Samantha, before putting down her bowl. ‘But I mustn’t eat any more. That new bodycon dress I bought for the office party is pretty unforgiving.’

Charley stared down at Samantha’s perfectly manicured fingernails before glancing at her own. She had
already lost four false nails that week. She would have to get rid of the others soon. It looked ridiculous.

She felt sick at the thought of her ice-cream and couldn’t bear to taste it. She hadn’t cared about the dishwasher or all the silly televisions. But losing her ice-cream was heartbreaking. That was real. Making it was possibly the only real talent she possessed. She had no appetite.

‘Where’s Steve?’ asked Caroline.

‘Out.’ Charley shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s always out these days. Bankruptcy does not make for a happy marriage.’

‘It’s just all a bit stressful at the minute,’ said Julie. ‘Once everything’s calmed down, you two will be all right.’

‘How soon do you think you’ll have to move out?’ asked Caroline.

‘About a month, I think.’ Charley looked around the room. ‘Not
that there’ll be much to take with us.’

‘They won’t take all your clothes, will they?’ Samantha felt horrified as she thought of Charley’s fabulous shoe collection.

She shook her head. ‘We’re allowed to keep clothing, bedding, a bed and important kitchen stuff like the kettle and plates. Beyond that, it’s all up for grabs.’

The front doorbell rang and didn’t stop. They all looked at her. Someone
was leaning on the bell.

Charley stood up.

‘It’s gone eight o’clock,’ said Julie, tutting.

Bailiffs were only supposed to visit between dawn and dusk. It was dark when Charley opened the front door.

‘Steve Mills live here?’

These men were different. They weren’t the sort of people she had become used to dealing with. These were hard men dressed in black. These men were more certifiable than
official.

Charley nodded, too terrified to speak.

‘He owes us three grand,’ said the larger of the men, pushing past her into the hall.

Charley meekly followed as they peered into each room.

‘I see we’re not the first,’ said the other man. ‘What’s left?’

They went into the kitchen, ignoring the women sitting on the floor. Charley opened up one of the cupboards, where she had kept some appliances
ready for the next visit from the bailiffs. The men took a smoothie maker, cappuccino machine, juice extractor, bread maker and food processor.

Before leaving, one of them did a last scout around the kitchen and picked up the Gaggia ice-cream maker.

‘B-But . . .’ Charley stammered, before her voice trailed off.

What was the use? She didn’t even have a freezer any more.

The men slammed the
front door behind them. Charley disintegrated into tears.

‘It’s all right,’ said Caroline, giving her a hug. ‘You’ll get through this.’

‘Who the hell wants to bake their own bread anyway?’ said Julie, raising a small smile from everyone.

‘You’d better hide your shoe collection, though,’ said Samantha. ‘You don’t want all those lovely Gina heels disappearing out the door.’

Julie glared at Samantha.
Who cared about shoes at a time like this?

Charley was still trying to rein in her tears.

‘So what now?’ asked Caroline, gently.

Charley sniffed. ‘I’m going to try and get a job. Though God knows, the employment market isn’t exactly buzzing at the minute.’

‘Perhaps you could try some of the shops on the high street,’ said Julie. ‘You’ve got experience from working in Steve’s all those years
ago.’

Charley smiled, but shook her head. ‘Already tried. Nobody’s taking on any more staff.’

It had been one of the most humiliating days of her life when she had walked into each of her favourite shops and asked about employment. After all, previously she had spent most of her time in these places, buying glittering tea lights, retro storage boxes and cute cushions. So much money wasted on
such fripperies. If only she had saved, instead of squandered, her money. If only she had put a bit of cash aside for a rainy day. If only she hadn’t been so stupid, she told herself. So greedy. So spoilt.

Hindsight would have been Charley’s preferred superpower of choice at the moment.

She gave them a small smile through her tears. ‘But Aunty Peggy knows someone who is taking on new staff.’

Her friends stared expectantly at her, even a little excited.

‘It’s a cleaning job.’

‘A what?’ said Samantha, beginning to laugh before swiftly turning it into a cough.

‘I need a job,’ said Charley. ‘And it’s cash in hand.’

‘Cleaning houses?’ prompted Caroline.

Charley nodded.

‘Well, you’ve always kept your home lovely,’ said Caroline brightly.

‘Absolutely,’ said Julie, nodding frantically.

But Samantha couldn’t keep her horror hidden. ‘I think we’d better open this other bottle of wine, don’t you?’ she said.

Chapter Eleven

CHARLEY WOKE UP
with a throbbing headache. She blamed the bottle of wine that she had finished drinking by herself after the girls had left.

She also blamed it for the massive row she’d had with Steve when he finally came home, equally drunk. To her surprise, he had gone off in a strop and slept in the spare bedroom. She was less surprised to find the house empty when she woke
up late in the morning. Now she needed to struggle up and get dressed, because she had a job interview.

She had hoped that Steve would give her a lift but there was no reply to her apoplectic text message, so she gave up and began the long walk to her parents’ house to pick up a car which Aunty Peggy was lending her.

Seeing her parents filled Charley with guilt once more. But a new job would
certainly help in repaying them and so would a car. Besides, a car meant freedom, a touch of normality in this bizarre new world in which she suddenly found herself.

She glanced at Julie’s house as she walked past. To her utmost inner shame, she had always looked down her nose at it. Secretly she could not believe that Julie had never wanted to smarten up the place. Now she was beginning to realise
that perhaps Julie had never had enough money. Perhaps living within her means was what mattered to her and, after all, it was Charley’s house with the Sold sign outside, not Julie’s.

A steady drizzle began, compounding Charley’s misery. Pounding the pavements in frustration, she eventually found herself walking up the driveway towards her parents’ front door. But her path was blocked by a small
car. Charley’s mouth dropped open at the sight of it. It looked like the survivor of a demolition derby masquerading as a blue Mini. But the numerous dents had obviously not stopped it from being roadworthy as Aunty Peggy had told her that it was taxed and with an MOT for the next ten months.

Charley gave the vehicle a wide berth before letting herself into her parents’ house. But all was quiet.
A note told her that they had gone food shopping and that the keys to the Mini were, of course, in the green bowl on the hall table. With a heavy heart, Charley realised it wasn’t some cosmic mistake. The car outside was her only means of transport – temporarily, she prayed.

Back outside, she walked slowly around the battered car before putting the key in the driver’s door. No remote locking.
No smart leather upholstery, she thought, as she gingerly sat down on the heavily stained beige velour seat. She swiftly wound down a window to bring some much needed fresh air to the stale interior. Then she remained seated, wondering what she had possibly done in a former life to deserve such misery in her current one.

She was still sitting there a couple of minutes later when her parents drew
up.

‘Oh, good,’ said her mother, getting out of her car and waving. ‘You found the keys.’

Charley nodded dumbly in response, watching Maureen pick up a couple of Lidl bags. That was new too, she realised. They had always shopped at Waitrose before.

Her father headed over to the Mini, sucking on the pipe he had just retrieved from his shirt pocket.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks, apparently.’
He tried not to smirk as he leant in through the open window.

‘Nothing is as bad as this car looks,’ muttered Charley.

‘Lord knows what Peggy’s nephew did with it whilst he was at university. She says you can have it as long as you want. He’s on a gap year travelling around South America.’

Charley knew she had no choice. There was no point being snobbish about these things. It was a car, wasn’t
it? Her parents were shopping in Lidl, for God’s sake. She owed them £40,000. She was about to be interviewed as a cleaner. It was time to get over herself.

She turned the key in the ignition and the car spluttered into life. With her parents calling out good luck, Charley found first gear and proceeded to bunny-hop down the driveway. The car gave a shudder every minute or so, accompanied by
a questionable knocking sound. But at least it would get her as far as her interview without breaking down. Or at least she hoped so.

BOOK: The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan
10.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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