She had been hard at work for three hours when she finally began work on the kitchen. No offer of a refreshing drink had been forthcoming. Love thy parents but never the cleaner.
Charley continued to scour, bleach and wipe every surface until her head was thumping from the heady smell of chemicals.
She had just finished the kitchen floor when Mrs Benedict appeared.
‘My husband’s been in the en-suite and thinks the shower glass is looking a bit streaky. You will have another go at it before you leave, won’t you?’
Charley couldn’t prevent herself in time from shooting her customer a long look. Although she had managed to fix a smile upon her face, her eyes must have betrayed her as Mrs Benedict quickly left the room again.
Charley trudged back upstairs, hoping not to bump into the man of the house. Gerry Benedict had always invaded her personal space whenever she had met him. His reputation as the club’s resident creep was assured, as far as she was concerned.
Charley went into the en-suite to discover that the shower door was only slightly smeared. It was streaky from cleaning products, not dirt, and the next time it was used, it would become spotty from the water again. But she polished and rubbed the glass until the shine was bouncing off the walls.
With a loud sigh to herself, she went back into the hallway to head downstairs when she unexpectedly bumped into Gerry Benedict, who was wearing only a dressing gown. Charley had no idea where he had been hiding all this time and didn’t really care.
‘Hello,’ she said, eager to leave before he recognised her.
‘Hello,’ he said, breaking into an oily smile. ‘You must be the new cleaner.’
He didn’t know who she was, Charley realised. Out of her designer dress, to him she was just the cleaner. She found herself quite grateful not to have explain her circumstances once more.
But when she tried to move around him to go downstairs, Gerry Benedict blocked her path. She watched in slow motion as he slowly untied the belt on his dressing gown and opened it up to reveal his naked glory.
The creepy smile remained fixed on his face as he asked, ‘What do you think?’
Charley took a beat before replying, ‘I think it looks like a penis only smaller.’
She quickly brushed past him and headed downstairs.
She spotted Mrs Benedict in the kitchen, eating her lunch and leaving crumbs all over the counter Charley had only just cleaned. But she didn’t care. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.
‘I’ve finished,’ said Charley, grabbing her handbag.
‘There’s your money,’ mumbled Mrs Benedict through her full mouth, pointing a finger at the kitchen table.
Charley picked up the notes and stuffed them into her bag.
‘We’ll see you next week, I hope. For some reason we seem to have terrible trouble keeping cleaners from one week to the next.’
Charley stared at the woman. ‘Well, if your husband keeps flashing at them all, I’m not surprised.’
And she quickly ran out of the house.
Later on, she received a phone call from her new boss.
‘Look,’ said Patricia with a sigh, ‘you’re gonna get perverts. But they’re paying perverts, okay?’
‘I can’t go back there,’ said Charley, still feeling somewhat hysterical. ‘I won’t and you can’t make me.’
‘All right. Keep your knickers on.’
‘Thank God I did,’ replied Charley with a shudder.
‘Men!’ grunted Patricia down the line. ‘From monkeys to morons in four million years.’
Charley put down the phone, grateful that her husband’s only shortcoming was his business sense.
Chapter Fifteen
‘SO? HOW’S THE first week of cleaning gone?’ asked Samantha, as she topped up everyone’s glasses.
It was her turn to be hostess. The flat was modern, with wooden floors, big white sofas and lots of glass tables. The kind of place where no mummy could ever bring her toddler.
‘Exhausting,’ said Charley, slumping back on to the leather sofa.
She could feel every muscle in her body aching, and she had only cleaned for four hours that day. Patricia hadn’t warned her how tiring it would be. Lord knows what it would be like the following week when she would be cleaning for eight hours every day.
By the time she had arrived home, she could barely walk. Then she had had to endure a freezing cold shower because Nick was now living with Julie and secret showers there had become a thing of the past for Charley.
Samantha wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know how you can do it, what with all that scrubbing and vacuuming.’
Charley sighed. ‘It’s money. That’s the only reason I’m doing it.’
‘Yes, but it must be so humiliating,’ carried on her friend. ‘Cleaning people’s toilets, I mean.’
Samantha’s tactlessness had always been one of her worst faults, thought Caroline, who had spotted Charley squirming in her seat.
‘Your new cushions are lovely,’ said Caroline brightly.
‘They’re only ikea,’ said Samantha, stroking the fluffy fabric. ‘But I wanted to give the place a bit of an update, so I’ve replaced the curtains and bought some new tea lights too.’
‘Teal is very in this year,’ said Caroline.
‘I presume this makeover isn’t just meant for our eyes?’ said Julie, raising her eyebrows.
Samantha grinned. ‘Hopefully not.’
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Caroline.
‘There’s a conference coming up that includes an overnight stay at a hotel.’ Samantha’s eyes went dreamy. ‘I’m gonna see how things progress there.’
‘So he’s good-looking?’ asked Julie.
Samantha nodded. ‘Plus smart and funny.’
‘Sounds too good to be true,’ said Caroline.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Julie. ‘Why isn’t he married if he’s that great?’
Samantha shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps he is.’
Caroline frowned. ‘Shouldn’t you find out, before you invest too much time and effort in him?’
‘I’ve got to get him hooked first,’ said Samantha, breaking into a smile.
‘That Richard sounds like bad news,’ said Julie on the way home.
Charley struggled to get the car into third gear. ‘Samantha’s pretty strong-willed. You’ll never talk her out of it.’
‘Well, it’s her heart she’s in danger of breaking.’
Charley turned the car into Upper Grove, the Mini spluttering all the way. Home. It didn’t feel like it any more. At one time she had imagined the bedrooms filled with a large, noisy family. The memory of her miscarriage before the wedding still remained raw, but Steve had kept urging her to be patient. Children would come in time, he’d said, and he wanted to concentrate on the business for a few more years. And hadn’t that turned out well? thought Charley, rolling her eyes.
She pulled into the driveway, noticing a strange car there. The lights were on inside, but there was no sign of anyone about.
‘Is it Steve?’ asked Julie.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Charley, suddenly fearful.
What if the bailiffs had come back? There was surely nothing left for them to take. She opened the front door cautiously and crept in, with Julie close behind. The place felt so different these days, unlived in and unloved. It was nothing but an empty box.
There was the sound of movement upstairs.
‘Maybe it’s squatters who think the place is already empty,’ whispered Charley. ‘Should we ring the police?’
Julie shook her head. ‘They’ll take too long. Besides, I’ve dealt with enough scumbags over the years to sort out whoever’s up there.’
So she took the lead, with Charley following. There was movement in the master bedroom so they crept in.
In hindsight, Charley thought that perhaps she should have made a noise to announce their presence in the house. Then maybe her husband would have receive
d some kind of warning.
Instead Steve and an unfamiliar woman continued their lovemaking on the bedroom carpet in blissful ignorance.
Charley wanted to run, but her feet wouldn’t move her away from the shocking scene. She wanted to scream, but found herself unable even to speak.
‘You’ll want to get some cream on those knees later,’ said Julie, in a loud voice. ‘That carpet burn’s murder on the skin.’
Steve’s steady rhythm came to an abrupt halt, but he remained on all fours as he stared in horror over his shoulder at Charley.
It briefly occurred to her that this was the second naked man she had come across unexpectedly within the past twelve hours. It was just a shame she was married to this particular one.
Chapter Sixteen
‘I’VE GOT A cup of tea for you,’ came a shout through the bedroom door.
Charley rolled over to face the window. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t spoken to anyone.
She glanced at her mobile but there were no messages. It was ten o’clock. It had been over twelve hours since she had found Steve with another woman. Twelve hours since she had picked up the last of her boxes and brought them to her parents’ house. Twelve hours since the end of her marriage.
Steve had rung every hour until she finally switched off the phone at three o’clock in the morning. She listened to his apologies. Listened as he told her that he hadn’t known what he was doing. That he was scared after the bankruptcy. That he wasn’t thinking straight.
Charley listened in silence to his excuses, cutting the line whenever she couldn’t cope with any more. As the night wore on, Steve’s tone became harder. She hadn’t supported him, he told her. She had carried on and not paid him enough attention.
She turned on to her back and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was her fault.
She had turned the phone back on at six o’clock in the morning but there had been no further calls. No messages. The phone stayed quiet.
The bedroom door opened.
‘Come on, love,’ said her mother. ‘You’ve got to get up for work. You’ve got a cleaning job this afternoon, remember?’
‘I don’t want to go,’ whined Charley, pulling the duvet over her head.
She just wanted to stay in bed for the next decade, if not for ever.
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ replied her mother, flinging the duvet off the bed. ‘But jobs are scarce, so you’d better keep yours. Besides, you need the money, don’t you?’
Charley closed her eyes. She might have fled to her parents’ house but the safe haven came with a side order of guilt.
Eventually she got dressed and trudged downstairs into the kitchen.
‘How about some lunch?’ Her mother held out a plate of blackened toast.
Charley shook her head.
‘Your father went and picked up the little car for you,’ said her mother.
Charley sat at the table, staring in a daze around the small kitchen. She realised she wouldn’t see her lovely big kitchen ever again. She didn’t live in Upper Grove any more. Somebody else would soon live in her house. She wondered how long it would take her to get over losing her home and husband in the same day. Then she wondered whether she would ever recover.
That afternoon, she drove to her customer’s flat and let herself in. She had been given a key as the owner was at work and felt quite grateful that she wouldn’t have to make any polite conversation that afternoon.
With no one else at home, Charley was able to wander around the stylish flat in silence. But her mind was reeling with questions. How long had Steve been cheating on her? What could she have done to prevent her life crashing down around her?
And how on earth was she going to get this wretched stuff off the bath tiles? An inspection of her customer’s bathroom shelves had revealed a plethora of St Tropez lotions. Charley could only presume she was the same orange colour as the splash marks up the walls.
She scrubbed at the tiles, but even with the bathroom spray it was hard work. After ten minutes, the brown stains were still there but a little less vivid. She would just have to keep at it week after week.
Charley rubbed her aching arms. Nobody had warned her how physical the job would be. Or how out of shape she really was.
She went into the lounge and sank on to the leather sofa with a sigh. She felt exhausted.
Her mobile rang and she picked it up, assuming it was one of the girls. But it wasn’t.
‘Charley? Hi. It’s me.’
Her heart lurched at the sound of Steve’s voice and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been better,’ she told him in a small voice.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I really am.’
After a short silence, she asked him, ‘How long has it been going on?’
‘Only a couple of weeks.’
She had been hoping it was a one-night stand. Now it sounded like a relationship. Something serious. ‘Who is she?’
‘Just Susie from the pub.’
Well, thought Charley, that’s great. ‘Susie from the pub’ had just ruined their twelve-year marriage. But she didn’t say anything.
‘I handed back the house keys this morning,’ said Steve.
She tried to think about all the happy times they had enjoyed in their lovely house. But she drew a blank. She was too tired to think straight.
‘Are you staying at your folks’ place for now?’ he asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘I can’t go to my mum’s,’ Steve told her. ‘You know what she’s like.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So I’m staying with a friend.’
‘Right.’
The silence hung in the air between them.
‘Well, I’d better go,’ he told her.
Charley hung up the phone before disintegrating into tears. She had just made it through the conversation without breaking down.
She needed time to think, to adjust, to come to terms with everything that had happened. But she didn’t have that luxury. She had to dust and vacuum a stranger’s flat before mopping the kitchen floor and cleaning the windows.
Take the money first. Then she could fall apart.
Chapter Seventeen
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Charley again had the morning free. Once more she slept in, craving the quiet of her bedroom. Except it wasn’t her bedroom and it was never going to be quiet.
‘Time to get up,’ said her mother, coming in and flinging open the curtains. ‘Caroline’s downstairs.’
‘I don’t want to see anyone.’
‘She’s your friend. Of course you want to see her. Come on. Up with you.’
As Charley slowly got out of bed, her mother tutted to see the baggy t-shirt of Steve’s that she was wearing.
‘We must get you a nice nightie. And have a shower before you come down. You mustn’t lose your looks as well as everything else.’
Half an hour later, Charley trudged into the lounge.
Caroline stood up and gave her a hug. Only her eyes, widening momentarily, betrayed how bad Charley must look.
‘How are you?’ asked Caroline.
In reply Charley’s eyes filled with tears. Her heart ached with emptiness and betrayal.
‘I should have guessed,’ she croaked, the tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Should have known something wasn’t right. I’m such an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not,’ replied Caroline.
‘Quite right,’ said her mother. ‘Now why don’t you get some nice fresh air? You could buy the local paper whilst you’re out as well, and have a look through the property section.’
‘I can’t afford to buy anywhere,’ said Charley, dragging her hand through her hair. The last thing she wanted to do was go out in public where she might see somebody she knew. At least with the cleaning work she could stay anonymous.
‘Not to buy, silly,’ her mother told her. ‘To rent. You’ve
got to live somewhere.’
Charley was horrified. ‘I thought I could spend a bit of time here until I get my act together?’
Her mother turned away and began to tidy a newspaper on the coffee table. ‘Well, yes,’ said Maureen, avoiding eye contact. ‘We were going to tell you, but then all this happened.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Your grandmother’s had a bit of a shock. Literally, as it happens. She was fiddling about with the electrics and flew four feet into the air. Broke her wrist when she landed on a nest of tables. She can’t even manage the kettle, so I’ve said she can stay with us for a while.’
Charley began to shake. She couldn’t handle this. There was nowhere else for her to go.
Her mother walked over and held on to her shoulders. ‘I know it feels like the world has fallen apart, but you’ll get through this. Do your mourning and then face up to things.’
Huge tears rolled down Charley’s cheeks. ‘I don’t think I can,’ she wailed.
‘You will.’
‘But . . .’
Her mother shook her head. ‘No buts,’ she said, before enveloping her daughter in a bear hug. ‘You know we’ll always love you. They can never take that away from you. But it’s time to be strong.’
Charley had never felt less strong in the whole of her life. ‘But where will I go? What’s going to happen to me?’
‘You will find your feet and carry on living,’ her mother told her. ‘It’s what women have done for centuries.’
‘I’m not sure I can even afford to rent anywhere.’
‘Your father’s worked it all out for you. If you find a cheap enough place, we’ll get the deposit for you somehow. You’ll have to take on all the cleaning jobs you can, but a bit of work won’t do you any harm.’
Charley and Caroline left the house and walked towards the small shop on the green. Late March sunshine was trying to break through the clouds.
‘You know, you could stay in our spare bedroom if you want,’ said Caroline.
‘Thanks but I’ll find somewhere,’ said Charley.
The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan Page 7