Read Online Marriage and Other Games by Veronica Henry - Free Book Online Page A

like this, even though it involved relatively small amounts of money compared to the sums they were used to dealing with, was professional suicide. Throughout the course of the week Charlotte picked up several voicemail messages cancelling social engagements they had been invited to.
     
    ‘I’m afraid we’re cancelling our drinks party on the twenty-third, as my mother is coming to stay . . .’
     
    ‘Can’t do dinner on the twelfth after all. The au pair’s going back to Romania for the holidays . . .’
     
    One was refreshingly blunt: ‘Won’t be coming to the races with you, under the circs. Will give you a bell when it all dies down.’
     
    That said it all, really.
     
    They were social lepers.
     
    She had taken the precaution of phoning each of her parents before the news hit the papers, in order to prepare them for the worst. Her father was sweet. Gruff but sanguine, he had told her she could come and stay until the furore was over, but she couldn’t imagine going to live in a three-bed semi in Potters Bar with his second wife and her two stroppy teenager daughters. Her father, she suspected, was under enough stress.
     
    Her mother was icily disapproving.
     
    ‘You’ll have to come home to me. You can’t stay there with him.’
     
    Charlotte wanted to retort that her mother was making Ed sound like a criminal, then realised that of course he was.
     
    ‘I can’t just leave him. He is my husband.’
     
    ‘By staying with him you’re condoning what he’s done.’
     
    ‘I am not.’ Charlotte was defiant. It had taken her till she was thirty to be able to stand up to her mother, and she still resented having to defend her decisions. ‘And he knows that perfectly well.’
     
    ‘What about other people?’
     
    ‘They can think what they like.’
     
    ‘You’re being very foolish.’
     
    Charlotte didn’t give her the benefit of a reply. Nothing would change her mother’s opinion, and the only way to stop the debate was not to retaliate. Her mother rang off in a huff.
     
    The only person who hadn’t treated her like a leper was Gussie, her dearest and oldest friend. Gussie had been the witness at her wedding; Charlotte was godmother to Gussie’s oldest son Pip. Gussie was a brick, reminiscent of a Famous Five farmer’s wife, capable, comfortable. But Charlotte knew that if she went to see Gussie she would fall apart, would fall into her arms sobbing, and lose all her resilience. And so she kept away, but appreciated Gussie’s regular texts and phone calls.
     
    In the meantime, life had to go on. On Wednesday morning Charlotte dragged herself out of bed and headed for Sainsbury’s. They had to eat, even though she didn’t feel like it. As she rounded the pasta aisle, she spotted Davina Cumiskey loading linguine and papardelle into her trolley. Davina and her husband Dom had been for supper on countless occasions, and they’d been to theirs, usually for drunken Sunday lunches. But as Davina looked up and spotted Charlotte approaching, she turned on her heel, pulled her trolley round and marched smartly off down the aisle and round the corner, her retreating back stating very clearly that she did not want to be followed.
     
    Charlotte stood by the rice, shaking. She felt utterly humiliated. Davina wasn’t Charlotte’s best friend, but she was certainly more than an acquaintance. Her cheeks burning, Charlotte carried on her shopping. By the time she got to the freezer section, her eyes were filled with tears and she couldn’t find what she was looking for. Unable to face finishing her shop, she purchased the few items she already had and fled to the car park.
     
    She sat at the wheel of her car for a few moments, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Was she a total pariah? Was she going to be blanked for the rest of her life, even though she was guilty of nothing? Was that how shallow everybody she knew really was? Backing away from her as if they might be able to catch