The Single Mums’ Picnic Club: A perfectly uplifting beach-read for 2018!. Jennifer Joyce

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      ‘Another option is to sell the family home…’

      ‘No.’ Katie shook her head vigorously. ‘No way.’

      Helen raised a hand. ‘Hear me out, before you dismiss the idea.’

      ‘No.’ Katie’s tone was firm. Absolute. She loved that house and could still remember the day she and Rob had viewed it, could still feel that frisson of certainty as she stepped over the threshold into the bright hallway, already picturing their coats hanging from the line of hooks by the front door, and she could clearly see the framed photos of the family they had yet to start lining the walls. She knew this was the home where she and her new husband would bring their children up and live happily ever after.

      The happily ever after bit hadn’t panned out, but still…

      ‘It’s my children’s home. I won’t sell it.’

      Helen gave a shrug of defeat. ‘That’s fair enough, but the option is there. You should really consider mediation, to help you and Rob to divide your assets before the divorce is finalised. Now.’ She glanced down at the file on her desk. ‘Have you filled out the acknowledgement of service yet?’

      Katie yanked the biscuit from its packet and took a bite, chewing slowly before answering. Helen waited patiently, hands clasped in front of her again.

      ‘Not yet.’ Katie squirmed in her seat as Helen tilted her head to one side. ‘I’ve been busy. Job hunting. And I have two children to take care of. And it’s been Christmas and everything…’

      ‘You only have a small amount of time to return it, Katie.’

      ‘I know.’ Katie rewrapped the remaining biscuit and placed it back onto the tray. ‘I’ll do it later. When I get home.’

      Helen didn’t say a word, but the slight raise of her eyebrows displayed her disbelief as loudly as her shouting it through a megaphone would have done.

      Katie hadn’t admitted to her solicitor that the acknowledgement of service had been sitting in her handbag, afraid that the formidable woman would insist she sign it there and then and get the divorce ball well and truly rolling. She’d do it later, at home, where she was comfortable. She’d sign it and send it off straight away, before the kids got home from school.

      It wasn’t yet lunchtime, so she had plenty of time to stop at the supermarket up by the train station. She needed to replace Elliot’s Chocolate Orange before he realised its size had been depleted and all hell broke loose over the snaffled 3 a.m. feast. She filled her basket with fruit and vegetables, which she knew she’d have to battle to get her kids to eat but it was a new year, a fresh start, and time to stop eating so much junk. They’d thank her in the long run. Maybe. She made a quick dash down the confectionery aisle, thanking the Sweet Treat Gods when she spotted the Chocolate Oranges on the shelf. Hurrah! Grabbing one (and only one, no matter how tempting it was to add more to her basket), she hurried towards the self-checkouts, taking a shortcut down the baby aisle.

      Big mistake.

      Her pumps squeaked on the tiles as she came to an abrupt stop. She backed away carefully, breath held, eyes wild with panic should the woman ahead turn to her left and spot her sneaking away. She was currently plucking jars of pureed baby food from the shelf, resting two in the palms of her hands as she weighed up which one to add to her trolley.

      Just keep reading those labels. Don’t turn around…

      Katie took another careful step backwards, wide eyes trained on her nemesis. Anya. The other woman. The woman who had taken her husband, best friend and the father of her children all rolled into one. Rob had been Katie’s first and only love. Childhood sweethearts, the couple had met when Rob had transferred to Katie’s school aged fourteen, and the pair had been inseparable ever since. It was funny to think that they were a year younger than Elliot was now when they’d started their relationship, but Katie had known Rob was The One, even back then. They were just nineteen when they married – which seemed ridiculously young now, but they’d been head over heels and so sure their futures would be entwined forever. Elliot had arrived a couple of years later, followed by little sister Lizzie. Katie had enjoyed her perfect life, with her perfect little family in their perfect house by the sea.

      Until eighteen months ago, when Rob dropped his triple bombshell:

      He’d been having an affair with his French tutor for the past eight months.

      The French tutor was pregnant.

      And Rob was leaving Katie to be with her.

      The news had knocked Katie for six. She’d felt physically sick, and completely lost her appetite (for the first few months, at least, before it returned with a vengeance), which rendered her exhausted. Getting out of bed in the morning had been a battle, and when she did manage to drag her weary body from the covers, she did nothing but cry and mourn for the life she – and her children – had lost. Because while Rob got to play happy families with his new partner and their daughter, Katie had been left on her own, with two kids and no job. And now Rob wanted a divorce, so he could marry the woman who helped to destroy their marriage, plus half of the house she’d inherited from her mum in the process. It had been kick in the teeth after kick in the teeth from Rob over the past eighteen months, and Katie couldn’t take any more. She couldn’t face that woman or the child, with the puff of blonde curls that reminded Katie so much of Lizzie as a baby it felt like she was being sliced through the chest. Katie had been desperate for a third child, a baby brother or sister for Elliot and Lizzie to complete their family, but Rob had coaxed her away from the idea; they had two beautiful, healthy children – why would they crave more? And yet here he was, with that third child, a baby sister for Elliot and Lizzie, but it was with another woman.

      Katie was almost at the end of the aisle again. She could slip away and get on with her day, replacing Elliot’s Chocolate Orange, checking the multitude of job sites she checked every single day, cooking the nutritious vegetables that were sitting in her basket…

      ‘Oi!’ An angry voice growled as she backed into something solid. ‘Watch where you’re bloody going!’

      She hopped away from the bear-like man as he glared down at her, apologising as earnestly as she could while whispering. Lip curled, he shook his head and ambled away, but not before he’d called her a few unsavoury names.

      ‘Katie? Are you alright?’

      She closed her eyes, hoping the woman would magically disappear, as she had so many times since she’d found out about the affair, but nope, she was still there when Katie opened them, except now she was making her way along the aisle, brow furrowed with concern. Which only made the situation worse. Couldn’t she be a complete bitch, so that Katie could be doubly justified in hating her?

      ‘There was really no need for that.’ Anya turned to glare at the man as he grabbed a pack of newborn nappies from the shelf. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation that had caused his grumpy overreaction, but whatever. Katie didn’t care and she certainly didn’t want concern or sympathy from this woman.

      She turned as Anya started to manoeuvre the trolley to the side so it wouldn’t run into Katie, her mouth opening to… what? Offer more solidarity against the irritable bloke? Or to laugh in Katie’s face? Look what I have, Katie: the third child you pretended you were no longer desperate for! Katie didn’t hang around to find out which option her husband’s girlfriend would plump for, and instead she ran, aiming for the exit, СКАЧАТЬ