The Desperate Wife’s Survival Plan by Alison Sherlock

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 furthercalls. 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 offthe 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 fatherwent 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 wonderedwhether 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 Stevebeen 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 evenwith 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 mobilerang 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 coupleof 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 theyhad 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