‘Poor you,’ said Julie, shaking her head.
‘What are we going to do?’ said Caroline, beginning to cry.
‘You’ll survive,’ said Charley, squeezing her hand. ‘After all, if I can do it, anyone can. How good are you with a mop?’
It raised a small smile from Caroline.
They gave both her and Jeff a hug before the porter came to take Caroline up to the ward.
Charley and Julie managed to hold out until they had got back in the car and then they allowed themselves a little cry.
They used Julie’s bandages to mop themselves up before heading home.
Chapter Sixty-three
THE LAST THING Charley wanted to do after Caroline’s near miscarriage was go out on the re-arranged double date. But Samantha was insistent that it should go ahead and arrived promptly at the flat at 7 p.m.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ she asked, her face wrinkled up in dismay.
‘Yes.’ Charley glanced down at her outfit. She was wearing a white camisole top, jeans and some high heeled boots. All were expensive items that she had dug out from the back of the wardrobe. The top still had the sales tag on it. ‘Why?’
Samantha shrugged her shoulders. ‘You might have shown a bit of leg.’
Charley threw on her aviator jacket, also barely worn. ‘It’s November and going to be ten degrees later.’
‘You don’t think you could have made a bit more of an effort?’
‘I spend my life in old jeans and tops covered in dust and dirt. I’ve washed my hair and painted my toenails. Believe me, I have made an effort compared to how I usually look.’
But Charley now felt even more nervous.
Richard and his friend Keith were waiting for them in the bar. They were almost hidden from view in one of ten booths that lined the far wall. Samantha seemed to sense where they were and zoomed ahead of Charley.
As they reached the last booth, both men stood up to greet them. In a room packed with glamorous people, Richard fitted in well. He adopted the nonchalance of someone who knows they look good.
He gave Samantha a friendly hug. It all looked very innocent, but Charley saw him quickly brush his hand against her bottom as he kissed her on the cheek.
Meanwhile, Keith caught Charley’s eye and gave her an awkward smile before an even more awkward handshake.
‘Hi,’ he said, in a deep voice, his hand crushing hers.
‘Hello. I’m Charlotte. Charley to my friends.’
‘I’m Keith, and I hope we will be.’
It was cheesy but broke the ice as her nervous laughter was interpreted as the real thing.
Keith gestured for Charley to take a seat next to him whilst he removed his jacket. It gave her the opportunity to take in his appearance when he was distracted. Older than her, possibly in his early forties, he had a cheerful, round face. His body was also round, but one glance at the cattle market of the bar told her that she should be grateful he was even vaguely presentable. Dozens of girls wearing next to nothing vied for the attention of dim-looking guys standing around sipping beer and talking football. Everyone looked to be about seventeen.
The thump-thump of the rap music was ear-piercing.
‘Isn’t it depressing?’ shouted Keith in her ear. ‘Do you think they’re allowed out without their parents’ permission?’
She nodded. ‘And are they deaf as well?’
He offered her some of the wine which had been standing in an ice bucket at the end of the table. She mouthed ‘yes, please’ at him and noted, with pleasure, that the wine was at the top end of the scale. Then Charley remembered that she might have to buy a round at some point and decided to drink very slowly.
They smiled at each other and clinked their glasses together.
Samantha and Richard had abandoned all pretence of small talk and had gone straight on to the necking stage. Charley felt embarrassed, for her friend as well as herself. Didn’t they ever talk? Was this all Richard wanted from her?
She tried to keep her eyes away from their groping and concentrated on Keith instead. He turned out to be quite fun and they whiled away the next hour talking, or rather shouting at full volume, about the latest books and films. Charley had had no spare money to buy any books or go to the cinema but was able to keep up thanks to a regular look at the Sunday newspaper at her parents’ house. But it was a pleasure to talk to a man who was vaguely intelligent.
She excused herself a little later to visit the ladies’ and studied her reflection in the mirror. Contrary to her pre-date feeling of dread, she found she was enjoying herself. Keith wasn’t anything special to look at but he treated her like a lady and was a witty companion. She had had worse evenings over the past few months.
Finding her way back through the crowds to the booth, she sat down before realising Samantha and Richard had disappeared. She turned to look at Keith.
He shrugged his shoulders before leaning forward to say, ‘Samantha said she’d be in touch tomorrow.’
Charley raised her eyebrows at him before she could stop herself. ‘They’ve left?’
She couldn’t believe it. Samantha was so wrapped up in herself sometimes!
‘Ah, l’amour,’ he said, before draining his wine glass. ‘Do you want to go somewhere else? I know a charming little place just down the road where you don’t have to shout to hear yourself think.’
Charley bit her lip for a moment. Was this the wisest thing to do? She hardly knew him.
Suddenly she felt his hand on her arm and looked at him.
‘I’m not a serial killer, woman beater or psychopath,’ he told her with a warm smile. ‘Just a lonely old man who’s enjoyed our conversation this past hour.’
She followed her heart and chose to believe him.
A short while later they were in a cosy little café which had comfy sofas to sink into and served delicious Irish coffee. It felt safe and comfortable. And, if truth be told, it was nice for her to be out again, after the loneliness of the flat.
They whiled away another hour making small talk before deciding to wend their way home. Even though he lived in the opposite direction, Keith insisted on coming back in the taxi with Charley. The knot of dread in her stomach tightened as they neared home. She wasn’t ready for a full-blown relationship yet, let alone having to offer him coffee and hoping that, if he accepted, he wanted only the coffee and nothing else.
But it turned out that Keith was just a gentleman who wanted to see her home. He didn’t want a coffee nor did he comment on her dubious accommodation. Nor the car at the bottom of the road which had been set alight by some local hooligans.
He merely kissed her on the cheek and asked if he could call some time. So Charley gave him her mobile number and closed the front door behind her, feeling relieved that her first date in over a decade had gone so well.
Chapter Sixty-four
CAROLINE HAD FINALLY been allowed to come home, with the hospital insisting on bed rest once she had. Otherwise she would have to spend the next five months of her pregnancy in the maternity ward in order to ensure the safe arrival of her baby.
Charley thought her friend still looked pale and drawn as she lay on the sofa. Julie was holding up various items of the bed-rest survival pack that they had all put together for her. The box contained romantic novels, CDs full of chill out music, silly or romantic DVDs to watch, and some ice-cream from Charley.
‘It’s a new flavour, but don’t worry if you can’t face it.’
‘No, the good thing is the nausea has finally gone,’ Caroline told her before sighing. ‘But this is going to be a nightmare. I’m not allowed to do any unnecessary walking, apart from to the loo and upstairs to bed at night. I can’t lift anything, including a kettle. I’m going to go mad.’
‘You’ve got a laptop to surf around on,’ Jeff told her. ‘Though I’m going to limit you to two hours a day.’
‘He’s such a meanie,’ Caroline said with a small smile.
‘I’m goin
g to make a few phonecalls before picking up Flora from school. So I’ll leave you girls alone to gossip in my absence,’ he said.
Julie waited until Jeff had left the room before asking Caroline about his job-hunting.
‘There’s not a lot around at the minute,’ she told them. ‘But the redundancy package should tide us over until Christmas. I don’t know about after that.’
‘So Keith was a proper gentleman?’ Julie asked Charley. ‘I didn’t think they existed any more.’
‘Nor did I.’ She fumbled around in her handbag and brought out her mobile. ‘Look at the text he sent me this morning.’
She handed over the phone to show them.
‘Good morning,’ Julie read aloud. ‘’Twas a glorious evening spent with a fair maiden last night that has put a spring back in my step. If you would do me the pleasure of meeting me again for dinner, I would be honoured.’
Caroline raised her eyebrows at Charley. ‘Sounds promising.’
‘More promising than the chances of Richard leaving his wife for Samantha.’
‘I can’t believe they just abandoned you like that,’ said Julie.
Charley sighed. ‘I know. Not the friendliest thing to do. And she didn’t even ring to make sure I’d got home okay.’
‘I suppose she’s still loved up with her married man,’ said Julie.
Charley kept quiet. She didn’t care how busy or loved up Samantha was. She didn’t care too much about being abandoned with a stranger the previous evening, but found she was more upset that Samantha hadn’t even rung to see how Caroline was.
‘Tell me about the Hallowe’en party again,’ said their friend, leaning back on the sofa cushions. ‘I never heard how your little oranges went down with the kids.’
‘Amazing,’ said Julie, before Charley could speak.
‘They did look good,’ said Caroline. ‘And nearly all the phone calls I’ve had from the other mums at the party asking how I was, have also been to ask if they can buy some ice-cream from you. For parties and Christmas.’
Charley was speechless.
‘That’s great,’ said Julie.
‘I’ve got their numbers so you can give them a call,’ said Caroline.
‘You think this is a good idea?’ Charley asked her friends.
‘What have you got to lose?’ said Julie. ‘The shop is shut but you can still use the back kitchen, can’t you? How about a little sideline in party cakes?’
Caroline was frantically nodding in agreement.
Charley sat back in her chair. Well, perhaps it would bring in a bit more money. Then who knows where it might lead?
Chapter Sixty-five
BACK CLEANING FOR Mrs Smith, Charley was in a world of her own. She had spoken to a couple of the mums who had been at Flora’s birthday party and they all seemed keen to order a batch of ice-cream from her.
Somebody had ordered a couple of boxes of chocolate ripple. Another woman wanted some rum and raisin. But a woman called Andrea had rung, asking whether Charley was able to provide some kind of ice-cream dessert cake for a dinner party she was throwing.
Charley had already decided that the easiest thing might be to make some sort of ice-cream bombe, where the soft creamy ice-cream was hidden under a layer of either chocolate or iced fruit.
She was desperate to experiment but had to get through the day’s cleaning first. It was all very well for Mrs Smith, she thought. She didn’t work, the kids were at school, and the only schedule she kept was for her next manicure.
Charley shook her head at herself. Apart from the kids, she had just described her own empty life until the bankruptcy.
These days her life was packed, barely leaving her with time for her second date with Keith.
La Scala wine bar was surprisingly busy on Friday night. It had opened a couple of months ago and quickly become extremely popular. The combination of good but cheap food, flattering low lighting and hunky Italian waiters was always going to be a winner in Grove Village.
Charley couldn’t see Keith so sat on a bar stool to wait. Staring down at her foot which appeared to be jiggling nervously, she was horrified to hear a very familiar voice speak to her.
‘Hello. What are you doing here?’
Charley looked up into the face of her soon-to-be ex-husband.
‘I’m, er, meeting someone.’ She couldn’t believe her own dumb luck. ‘What are you doing here?’
Steve nodded his head at a group of his mates with whom she had never got along, a bunch of neanderthal, knuckle-dragging lowlifes who could only grunt out monosyllables about football and women. ‘Out with the boys.’
‘I see.’
He ran his eyes over her. ‘You’re looking good.’
Charley straightened up a little on the bar stool. She had been especially pleased with her appearance as she was getting dressed that evening. She wore a V-neck sweater teamed with a black skirt. Her waist and stomach had shrunk so much that she now had an old-fashioned hourglass figure.
As she had gazed at her reflection earlier, Charley had considered the amazing effect on the female figure when a husband cheats whilst running up thousands of pounds’ worth of debt.
But she didn’t say that. She just replied, ‘Thank you.’
Steve leant in close. ‘Honestly, you’re looking really good. You’ve let your hair grow long as well. Suits you.’
‘Thank you.’ Charley was keeping her side of the conversation short and polite.
‘I rang you a while back and you never returned my call,’ he said, trailing a finger across her hand.
She moved it away. ‘I’ve been busy.’
‘I sent a couple of texts as well.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ve missed you.’
Was he actually flirting with her? She stared into his eyes. ‘Susie not with you tonight?’
He remained close. ‘No. Just me. And you.’
‘And me,’ said Keith, materialising next to them. ‘Sorry I’m late. Nightmare day at work.’
Steve withdrew and gave Keith a once over. Charley inwardly groaned, knowing how he would feel on seeing her date’s large belly. Then she berated herself for thinking such shallow thoughts.
Steve turned back to her with a smile. ‘Your date for the evening, is it?’
‘Keith Reynolds,’ said Keith, holding out his hand. ‘And you are?’
‘Steve Mills. Charley’s husband.’
‘We’re getting a divorce,’ she said quickly.
Steve’s eyes narrowed briefly.
‘Nice to see you, Steve,’ said Charley, in a firm tone. ‘I’ll see you around sometime.’
He picked up on her dismissive manner and gave a nod before walking back to his friends.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Keith.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, smiling through clenched teeth.
‘Want to get out of here?’
‘Yes, please.’
They went into yet another Italian wine bar, but thankfully this one didn’t have her husband lurking inside. Instead it had lots of large, squishy leather sofas, perfect for reclining and snuggling. The lighting was low and yellow, making everyone’s skin look golden and healthy.
Keith got the drinks in whilst Charley found a spare sofa. He set the wine and glasses down on the table. ‘Premier cru,’ he said, as he poured out the wine.
Keith took off his jacket and sat down, loosening his tie. He unbuttoned his top shirt buttons and picked up his glass.
‘Cheers!’ They clinked glasses and sipped the cool wine.
‘Lovely,’ said Charley.
But she didn’t feel lovely. Just when she’d thought she was getting stronger, seeing Steve had disconcerted her and it was hard to shake the memory off.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ said Keith as he leant back, resting his arm along the back of the sofa behind her.
‘Just my cheating, lying ex-husband, who didn’t exactly have a fine business acumen either.’
/> ‘But it’s still hard seeing him?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think the train wreck of my marriage is best left in the past.’ She took a huge gulp of wine. ‘So how was your day?’
He went on to explain the intricacies of the project he was working on. It was some kind of computer thing that Charley didn’t really understand but she was happy to let him chatter on about office politics whilst she drank one glass of wine after another.
Some time later he stopped and looked at her. ‘You should have told me I was going on for too long. I must be boring you.’
She shook her head and was surprised to find everything went a bit fuzzy when it moved. ‘I just don’t know a lot about computers.’
‘I shouldn’t let that worry you,’ he said. ‘President Clinton only sent two emails from the White House and that was during the internet boom. He sent one to John Glenn, the astronaut who went into space at the grand old age of seventy-seven. The other was a test.’
Charley laughed harder than his words would normally have merited.
‘I think we’d better order something to soak up all this wine otherwise I’ll be under the table soon,’ he said.
Keith ordered some food but it was probably more for Charley’s benefit than his own. Unfortunately he’d only ordered hunks of bread and dips which weren’t especially filling – especially as he’d had another bottle of wine brought over too. Charley pounced on the bread as soon as it arrived, dipping it in olive oil before wolfing it down. But it didn’t appear to make much difference to her level of sobriety. By this time she had drunk at least a bottle of wine and her head was beginning to swim.
Keith offered her the last piece of bread which she dipped into the saucer of olive oil. As she brought it up to her mouth, oil dripped from the bread on to her chin.
He leant forward and caught the drip with his finger. Wiping her chin clean with it, he then drew his finger back and put it in his mouth. It was such a surprise that Charley let her mouth fall open. Keith took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her.
The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan Page 23