The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan Read Online Free Page B

listening. ‘I’ll do chicken, shall I? See you at six.’
    ‘We really can’t,’ said Charley, before realising that only the dial tone was listening.
    She sank back in the kitchen chair, trying not to tremble. Her mother’s phone call had been only one of many that Monday morning. Every other callwas someone else wanting to be paid. It was horrifying how much money they owed to so many people.
    It was also upsetting how many of them appeared to know her mobile number and were prepared to use it when they were unable to get hold of her husband.
    Charley knew how they felt. She had barely seen Steve since their meeting with the Official Receiver the previous Friday. He had spent the wholeweekend in his friend’s pub. She could hardly blame him. Yes, because of the personal guarantees that Steve had signed, they would have to sell the house. Unfortunately, they had taken out a second mortgage and some additional loans to cover all the renovation work. Therefore any other assets they owned would also have to be sold.
    It was still quite sketchy to her at that point. Charley had naggedSteve to talk through everything with her but he was too drunk every night when he finally came home. And she wasn’t going to discuss their personal life in the pub in front of his mates. She knew he was avoiding her out of guilt, but she had countless papers to go through for the Official Receiver and could not answer the innumerable questions without him.
    She sent Steve a text message tellinghim about the invite from her parents for dinner but didn’t expect a response. Besides, it was probably best he wasn’t around when she told them the very bad news about the state of their finances.
    Later that afternoon Charley clambered out of her BMW, shivering in the cold air as she walked up the driveway. Her parents had lived in the same house in Little Grove for over forty years. LittleGrove was a small hamlet on the outskirts of the main village, with only a cricket green, farm shop, church and post office to its name.
    Charley turned her key in the lock and stepped inside.
    ‘Hello,’ she called out, dumping her car keys in the pale green bowl on the hall table.
    It was a family ritual. Like everything else in the house, the bowl had stood in the same place for decades. Charleyand her younger sisters had carried on placing their keys in the green bowl long after they had left home.
    ‘Charlotte?’ Her mother came rushing out of the kitchen in a whirlwind of smoke. The air was filled with the smell of something burning in the oven.
    Maureen Summers gave her daughter a hug before trying to smooth down a wild tendril that had escaped from Charley’s ponytail. But they bothknew she was fighting a losing battle. Whereas her mother’s dark hair was kept under control by being cut short, Charley’s long hair had reverted back to its natural unruly state. She had eked out her last salon blow dry as long as she could, but in the end nature had won.
    ‘You look terrible,’ said Maureen, frowning to see her eldest daughter’s pale face.
    ‘I’m fine.’
    ‘What’s the matter? Where’sSteve?’
    ‘Busy at work. He sends his love,’ lied Charley. She had received no reply from her text earlier. ‘So, what’s this about Dad?’
    Her mother clutched one hand to her heart. ‘It came this morning.’ She shuddered and pushed her daughter through the kitchen and towards the back door. ‘You’ve got to talk to him. You know he listens to you.’
    Charley stepped out of the house alone, clutchingher coat around her for warmth as she walked slowly towards the garage at the end of the garden, which had been converted into a workshop a few years previously. There her father could have a quiet smoke, listen to his old music and potter about undisturbed.
    She pulled open the metal door and went inside. ‘Hi, Dad.’
    Her father looked up from the workbench and smiled. A tall man in his earlysixties, his silver hair matched his years but his