The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan

by Alison Sherlock

  Samantha took her silence for agreement. ‘Good! That’s settled then.’

  Charley didn’t want to go out with some man she didn’t know. She certainly didn’t want to meet Samantha’s married lover. But she found she couldn’t bear her friend’s whining if she refused, so she said yes. Anything to get it over with.

  But she was cross at having been forced into a corner and took it out on the ironing at Mrs Smith’s the following day.

  ‘I must have the wrong place,’ said Mike, finding her behind a cloud of steam. ‘I was wanting the cleaner, not Widow Twankey.’

  Charley sighed before finishing off the shirt on the ironing board.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ he said, stepping in to switch on the kettle. ‘Or shall I just put you into the freezer and leave you there to cool off?’

  Charley put the iron down. ‘I thought she had someone to do all this for her.’

  Mike leant against the counter whilst he waited for the kettle to boil. ‘Perhaps they had to give the ironing lady the heave ho. I’ve heard they’ve got a few money problems.’

  Charley didn’t reply as she hung the shirt up on a hanger.

  She turned around to find Mike studying her. ‘What?’

  He cocked his head to one side, still looking at her. ‘You don’t moan so much.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He walked over to her. ‘Before the summer it was all woe-is-me, but now you seem calmer. More settled.’

  ‘I hope you don’t think it’s because of your influence that I’m happier in myself?’

  ‘But just think,’ he said, putting his hand on the doorframe beside her, ‘if we didn’t work together you wouldn’t be having all the fun you have now.’

  Charley raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘We have fun, do we?’

  He leant in close. ‘All the time. Didn’t you notice?’

  She noted the softer tone of his voice. The close proximity of him as he towered over her.

  ‘Talking of fun,’ he continued, fixing her with his dark eyes, ‘do you want to go out for a drink on Saturday night?’

  ‘I’d love to but I can’t,’ she told him, lowering her eyes to avoid his gaze. ‘I’ve got a date.’

  Mike pulled back slightly. ‘Really?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Just a guy. Friend of a friend thing.’

  Charley squirmed in the short silence that followed.

  ‘Well,’ he said, straightening up and moving away, ‘I’m glad things are working out for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The mood between them had abruptly become polite and stilted.

  ‘I’d better get back to work,’ he told her, walking towards the back door.

  ‘What about that cup of tea?’ called Charley after him.

  But there was no reply as the door closed softly behind him.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  CAROLINE HEADED ACROSS the hospital car park, glancing around her but seeing nobody she knew. She should really have told someone else about the appointment, but after all it was bound to be okay.

  Although what the midwife had actually said was, ‘Your blood pressure is far too high. It could be a sign of pre-eclampsia.’

  ‘But you just told me that the tests are fine,’ Caroline had replied.

  ‘Even so, you’ve got to rest. Can your husband help out more around the house and with your daughter?’

  Caroline had tried not to laugh in reply. Jeff was barely home these days, working all hours and most weekends. Her parents were spending autumn and winter in their villa in Spain.

  Every time she asked, Jeff reassured her that he was overjoyed by the news about the baby, but she wasn’t so sure. After all, his mood had rapidly deteriorated since she had announced she was pregnant.

  When he was home, he was stressed and snappy at everything she said. The previous Sunday it had been about Flora’s homework, which had taken up most of the afternoon.

  ‘She’s only five!’ Jeff had protested, his voice loud with strain. ‘Why the hell does she need to do so much?’

  ‘It’s the school,’ Caroline had replied, trying to stay calm. ‘They think it’s better to push the girls as much as they can from an early age.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous. She should be out playing, not studying.’

  It was a beautiful late-summer day and Caroline had silently agreed with him.

  But instead she said, ‘Then why don’t you help her?’

  ‘I’ve got work to do. I think that’s a bit more important, don’t you?’

  As he stalked back into the study, Caroline sighed and rubbed her head. The onset of another headache threatened.

  She glanced over at Flora who had been watching the argument and was now trying not to cry.

  ‘It’s all right, darling,’ Caroline said, going over to give her daughter a hug. ‘Let’s get a biscuit and then have a think. I’m sure we can create a nice collage together.’

  Caroline longed for a bath to ease her backache. Longed for a lie down on her bed. Longed for a happier atmosphere in the house.

  She hadn’t yet brought up the subject of the invoice for Flora’s next school term, which lay hidden under a pile of papers in the kitchen. No wonder her blood pressure was so high. But hopefully Jeff would be in a better mood the following week. She would broach the subject then.

  She sipped from her cup of tea and began to cut out a picture of a happy family from a magazine which Flora wanted in her collage.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  JULIE HAD BEEN inundated with phone calls after successfully placing the advert about Boris in the local newspaper. She had arranged to see a couple of callers on Friday evening after work.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ she kept repeating out loud all week to herself, avoiding eye contact with Boris’ big black eyes.

  She arrived home from their evening walk and went straight to the pantry, grabbing the filter coffee and setting the machine on. Then she went upstairs and enjoyed a lovely long shower before changing into her jeans and t-shirt and coming back downstairs.

  ‘I know,’ she told the puppy who was lying on the kitchen floor. ‘You want your dinner. But you’ll have to wait until all the visitors have been and gone.’

  She glanced at Boris who wasn’t moving. That was odd. Normally, as soon as she went anywhere near the kitchen, he would be shadowing her, desperate for his dinner.

  As she stared down at him, he was suddenly and very violently sick.

  ‘Oh God,’ she swore, going to get some kitchen paper to mop up the mess.

  This was the last thing she needed, with people coming round to see him. She had no chance of selling him if he had eaten something dodgy on his walk.

  But Boris kept on being sick. Julie began to grow worried and reached out to stroke his head, to try and reassure him.

  That was when she spotted some specks of blood in the latest vomit that he had produced. She rushed away to find the book on dogs that Caroline had given her and flicked through the pages, desperately hoping she was remembering her facts wrong.

  But when she arrived at the doggy illnesses page and quickly scanned it, she was proved right. Blood in a dog’s vomit was never a good thing. In capital letters, the book told Julie to go to the vet’s. Right now.

  Despite his weight and size, she quickly swept Boris into her arms and ran out to the car. She placed the whimpering dog in the passenger seat before rushing round to the driver’s side. Later on she had no recollection of the journey. Whenever she could, she reached across to stroke him.

  She abandoned the car outside the vet’s surgery, picked up Boris and rushed in.

  ‘Please help me!’ she cried.

  Wes was standing behind the counter, talking to one of the veterinary nurses. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s vomiting blood.’

  Wes strode over in three short paces and took the dog from her.

  ‘What’s he e
aten?’

  Julie half-ran to keep up with him as they went into one of the rooms. ‘I don’t know!’ she cried. ‘Maybe something on his walk.’

  He gently placed Boris on the examination table before turning to wash his hands at the sink. ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘About half an hour.’

  ‘Anything in the house he could have eaten when you got home?’

  Before Julie could reply, Boris began to vomit once more.

  She looked up at Wes. ‘Do something!’

  ‘I will,’ he told her. ‘But was there anything he might have eaten? Poisons? Food? Think.’

  Julie frowned in thought. ‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Can you check?’

  So she quickly rang Charley who was on her way home from work and was able to take a detour.

  Julie paced up and down the room whilst she waited for her friend to call back. In the meantime, she watched as Wes took Boris’ temperature and checked him over for any abnormalities.

  After what seemed like an age, Charley called back.

  ‘The pantry door is open,’ she said, somewhat breathlessly. ‘There’s bits of what looks like chocolate wrapper. Could it be that?’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Julie. ‘Can you see a really big bar of cooking chocolate anywhere?’

  ‘No.’

  Julie quickly hung up. ‘He’s eaten loads of chocolate. The really dark cooking stuff. I must have left the door open when I went upstairs.’

  ‘I’ll need a washing-soda crystal,’ Wes told the nurse.

  Both he and the nurse left the room and Julie was briefly left alone with Boris.

  ‘Please don’t die,’ she whispered to the shivering puppy on the table. ‘I can’t lose anyone else this year. Please don’t die.’

  The nurse returned with the treatment, closely followed by Wes. Julie hugged her arms around herself as she watched the vet force the washing-soda crystal into Boris’ mouth.

  ‘Hopefully this will make him vomit up the rest of it,’ Wes told her. ‘Do you want to wait in reception?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she told him in a tremulous voice.

  She watched as the poor dog was sick and then sick again. It was all her fault, she kept thinking. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid.

  Once they were sure that his stomach was empty, Boris was given a form of charcoal to ease his intestines. He was also attached to an intravenous drip, to steady his heart rate and give him much-needed fluids.

  All the time that she could, without getting in the vet’s way, Julie stroked Boris’ front paw.

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ she told him softly, over and over again.

  Eventually, once the dog was settled, Wes found her a seat so she could sit next to the dog, and the nurse produced a cup of tea. Julie found the mug shook in her hand as she took a sip.

  Wes crouched down in front of her.

  ‘Will he live?’ she asked, the tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

  ‘It’s possible,’ he told her in a gentle tone. ‘There wasn’t much time between him eating the chocolate and you finding him. That gives him a better chance.’

  ‘What kind of chance are we talking about?’ asked Julie. ‘Tell me the odds.’

  He rested one large hand over hers. ‘It’s a fifty-fifty survival rate in most cases of chocolate poisoning. Especially if he’s eaten a lot.’

  Julie suppressed a sob.

  ‘It’s a waiting game now,’ Wes told her, squeezing her hand. ‘There’s not much you can do. We’ll get him transferred to the recovery room for now.’

  Left alone for a brief minute, Julie leant forward in her chair, stroking Boris’ soft silky head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she told him, the tears spilling from her eyes once more. ‘I don’t mean to snap at you all the time. You’re not a bad dog. I’m just not used to you, that’s all. Just get well and I’ll be better, I promise. Please don’t leave me.’

  She brought her lips down on to his head and gave him a soft kiss.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, just before the door opened.

  ‘Julie?’ said Wes. ‘We’ve got to move him now.’

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘I’ll ring you tonight, okay?’ he told her, briefly putting one arm around her shoulder. ‘If there’s any change, I’ll ring you as soon as possible.’

  Julie picked up her handbag before giving Boris one last look. Then she left in tears.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  SAMANTHA WAS VERY unimpressed when Charley rang to cancel the double date for the following night.

  ‘Why the hell can’t you come?’ she snapped.

  ‘Julie needs me,’ Charley told her. ‘She’s distraught.’

  ‘It’s only a dog, for God’s sake,’ said Samantha.

  ‘Well, he means a lot to Julie,’ said Charley sharply in reply.

  Samantha put the phone down in a huff.

  She needed to go out with Richard, had to. They had just about recovered from their argument before his holiday but it was important to keep going, to start pushing for him to get rid of the old ball and chain.

  The fun relationship, the brief flirtation she had envisaged, had long since disappeared. Now it was love. Wretched, awful, undeniable love.

  But there was hope.

  The previous week, Richard had promised he would leave his wife.

  ‘When the time is right,’ he had quickly added.

  ‘Of course,’ said Samantha, nodding.

  It was going to happen. Of that she was certain.

  ‘Poor Boris,’ said Caroline, near to tears on hearing the news after Charley called her.

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ replied her friend, not sounding at all positive.

  ‘Of course he will,’ sniffed Caroline.

  Poor Julie, she thought as she put down the phone.

  Flora would be distraught as well if anything happened to the puppy. It had even made Caroline think about getting a dog but she had decided to wait. There was too much else going on. Flora had to concentrate on her schoolwork, and Jeff was hardly ever around to help out with a young puppy. Let alone the cost of the pedigree breed that Caroline wanted.

  Money was becoming a pressing issue. She would have to see to the invoice for the next school term, especially as a charming but more insistent reminder letter had appeared the previous day in the post.

  Then there was Flora’s birthday at the end of the month. Her presents wouldn’t be cheap and there was the added stress of the birthday party to arrange. Children’s parties had gone stratospheric in cost, especially at the private schools. It was one-upmanship gone mad.

  Caroline rubbed her forehead. Yet another headache was beginning.

  Julie had told Charley she was fine and didn’t need any company. But upon finding Charley’s clapped out Mini in the driveway once she was home, she rushed inside the house.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she sobbed, falling into Charley’s hug.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Charley, squeezing her tight. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have left the door open. He must have seen the chocolate and grabbed it.’

  ‘He’s a dog!’ Charley told her. ‘He’ll take any food that’s going! It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘What if he dies?’ whispered Julie. ‘What will I do?’

  ‘He won’t,’ replied Charley in a firm tone. ‘Now, let’s get the kettle on. Or have you got something stronger?’

  In the end, Charley made Irish coffee for them both. And then they waited.

  ‘Did I tell you I’ve shut the shop for good?’ she said. ‘Not much business about now we’re into autumn. Remind me to give you the key back.’

  Julie didn’t reply, merely hugging her coffee closer.

  And so Charley went prattling on about this and that. Anything to fill the void as they waited for news.

  Finally, after what seemed like the
longest two hours in history, Julie’s mobile rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Wes,’ said the vet. ‘The recovery is going well. I’ll keep a close eye on Boris overnight but I think he’s going to be fine.’

  Julie was near to tears again as relief swept over her. ‘Thank you,’ were the only words she was able to muster.

  ‘I’ll ring you first thing in the morning. Try and get a good night’s sleep.’

  She put down the phone and broke into a watery smile as she told Charley, ‘The vet thinks he’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Thank God,’ said Charley. ‘Do you want me to stay the night?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘I should be fine.’

  But she wasn’t. The house seemed very empty without Boris. Everywhere she looked there were his toys, his bed, his bowls, and the odd half-chewed shoe. The house seemed too quiet without his snuffling, scratching and constant movement. Julie’s house wasn’t a home without her dog.

  Her phone rang again that evening. She had a sudden moment of fright, thinking it was Wes to say Boris had taken a turn for the worse.

  But it was a man replying to the advert, wanting to arrange a viewing time the following evening.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ replied Julie, her voice still a little shaky. ‘The dog is no longer for sale.’

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  TWO DAYS LATER, Julie went to the vet’s after work to pick up Boris. The nurse brought him through from the recovery room and he was straining at the lead to get to Julie. He sat on her feet, tail thumping in excitement to see her. Julie couldn’t stop herself from bending down to give him a hug before roughing up his fur.

  ‘You soppy thing,’ she told him. ‘Shall we go home?’

  She paid the bill with the last of her savings and thanked the staff. She was told Wes was on an emergency call out, but the receptionist said she would pass on Julie’s thanks.

  Under strict instructions to keep Boris quiet over the next few days, Julie wandered around the house with him that evening whilst he explored the place. He had a lost a little weight and was very clingy. Eventually he sat on her feet, staring up at her.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said softly, lifting him up on to the sofa next to her. The puppy snuggled into her side; one soft ear flopped onto her leg.