The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife Read Free Page A

asked Mel.
    â€˜Yes of course. Bunch up in the bed.’
    And so it was that the family ended their day more like the Waltons than the Addams Family.

5
    Children asleep upstairs, Alan and Mel sipped their tea. Mel was too tired for a gin and tonic, which was a relief because at least it meant that she didn’t need to address her drink problems just yet.
    Alan spoke. ‘So, what have you been doing today?’
    Mel just gave him a look that even the most insensitive, testosterone-loaded caveman could interpret. The impression was made all the more powerful by the fact that her hair was standing mainly at a 90-degree angle from her scalp … not easy when one’s hair is shoulder length … and there were thick twists matted very fetchingly in clumps of mucus and make-up residue on her cheeks and forehead.
    â€˜Point taken,’ he nodded in sympathy. ‘Would you like to know what I’ve been doing today?’
    â€˜Yep. Something going on, you said?’ Mel thought it only polite to make some effort to look interested and keep her eyes open. I need to go back to work, she thought. My brain is turning into mush.
    â€˜Yeah, well Mel … it’s weird. Tim was suspended from work suddenly today. They just removed him from the office, security people and everything. The police have taken his computer for investigations and people keep talking about Wall Street in hushed voices. Martin’s been sweating like a pig all day and I’m really not sure what’s going on. Last time there was this sort of atmosphere it was Black Monday but I see no signs of things going tits-up in the markets.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Mel. Well, what could she say? The world of work, of finance, of grown-ups was so far outside her remitnow that she shivered at the thought of entering it again, much as she wanted to.
    â€˜â€œOh” indeed,’ agreed Alan with a faraway expression in his eyes.
    â€˜You’re trying to look all sage and wise again, Alan,’ she observed.
    â€˜Mmm,’ he murmured. ‘Fancy a G and T? I’m having a whisky.’
    Alan never drank … well … not never but it was a high-days-and-holidays sort of thing. Things must be bad.
    â€˜OK.’ So that’s how Mel fell asleep on the sofa with a half-drunk glass of G and T on the table.
    In the morning, she found herself in bed, still with the make-up disaster on her face. Alan must have carried her up! He was already dressed and set to go when he woke her.
    â€˜All right, love. See you tonight.’ Was that a portentous note in his voice? He did seem a bit worried. He normally had to be kicked out of bed.
    â€˜Have a good day!’ she offered, feeling bad that she’d been too tired to listen to him last night.
    He kissed her on the nose just as the children leapt on the bed, looking full of life and not at all emotionally disturbed this morning … Thank goodness!
    Alan poked his head back around the door. ‘Oh … by the way, the kitchen’s still a bit smoky so I’ve left the windows open and put the burnt cake tins in the sink. Bye!’
    Smoke? Mel realised with horror that the cakes had had hours rather than the required twenty minutes.

6
    Mel looked in the mirror. It wasn’t pretty. Not at all. She looked liked the hag of the night! Something horrible from ancient Celtic legend seemed to have possessed her face and hair. The Celts invented the Wicker Man and had a penchant for severed heads on sticks. In fact, her head looked very much like something that has been put on a spike and nibbled at by numerous verminous creatures. Yes, she had suddenly remembered the probable state of the kitchen, but there was no way she was going to go down and face that little beauty until she’d made an effort to restore her appearance. She retired to the bathroom, followed by her two prodigies.
    She could barely open her eyes, they were sort of glued shut by