An Ideal Wife A Novel by Gemma Townley

Author:Gemma Townley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-06-16T21:00:00+00:00

I offered to help carry the trunk but was dismissed by Ivana, who handed me Giorgio to carry instead. She looked pretty dubious that I’d even manage that okay.

“There,” she said, when she and the taxi driver—who didn’t look very pleased with his role as removal man—had wedged the trunk into my car boot a few minutes later.

“There,” I agreed.

She took Giorgio from me and inspected him as if he were a rental car that had been brought back by a customer. Satisfied that he wasn’t broken or damaged in any way, she nodded.

“I call you when nid trunk again,” she said over her shoulder. “And I ready to tich iron. You come to house. Sean tell you, I best ironer. Better ironer than stripper, and I very good stripper.”

“Great,” I managed to say as she strode out of the car park. After making sure my car was locked, I went back to the office and sat down heavily at my desk. I was out of plans. I was out of ideas. And now I had a trunk to look after.

My mobile started to vibrate, and I pulled it out of my pocket—it was a text message. As soon as I looked at it, my heart sank. It was from Hugh Barter. Sweetie, wonder if we can catch up some time? I’ve got a favor I need to ask you. Call me, H.

I stared at it for a few seconds, my heart sinking. Now? Hugh was texting me now? What next? What else could possibly go wrong?

“Ah, Ms. Wild Wainwright, was that a friend of yours? Or was that part of your work in the community?” I looked up to see Eric bearing down on me, a snide expression on his face.

“Ivana?” I asked in a slightly strangled voice. “No, she’s a friend.” I swallowed uncomfortably. “Listen, Eric, about this paperwork. I know you said you need it by the end of today, but is there any way at all that I could maybe have an extension?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said, evidently not sorry at all. “We all have to work within our relative timetables. I’m sure you don’t miss your clients’ deadlines, do you?”

“No,” I said tightly. “No, I don’t suppose I do.” I felt tired. Exhausted. I felt like running away and pretending he didn’t exist. But instead, I made a decision. Plan D. I was going to Wiltshire.

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