The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife

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Book: Read The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife for Free Online
Authors: Gill Davy-Bowker
she had. Oh well, onwards and upwards, she supposed.
    â€˜Amy! Michael! Come in. We’ve got to go in the car!’
    â€˜No Mummy! We don’t want to go now … please?’
    Although they’d lived in the area for six years, the neighbours were about as neighbourly as rattlesnakes and she knew that it would be pointless to ask either side to babysit. She remembereda story she had heard about someone dying and rotting into the wall and floor of one house on this very road. It was only when the flies were pasted over the insides of the windows like something from The Amityville Horror , that neighbours noticed they hadn’t seen anyone come in or out of the house for months. When the authorities broke down the door, the stench was overwhelming and the poor man was like soup infiltrating the wall and dripping through the floorboards. Yes, it wasn’t the sort of place where community spirit reigned; it was the sort of place where you would be reported for stalking if you said ‘Hello’ at the gate. The children would have to come to the restaurant. So she picked one up under each arm, kicking and screaming and tied them down to their car seats in the back with not just a little difficulty.
    At three-thirty Mel left Alphonse’s Restaurant with plated meals for three.
    â€˜Thank you so much, Alphonse! You have saved my life!’
    â€˜It was a pleasure,’ he answered in his Glaswegian French accent. ‘I am so glad I could return a favour!’
    She had first met Alphonse when she was nursing his mother after she had fractured her hip. His mother spoke only French and had been rather frightened in hospital. Mel had racked her brains for the last vestiges of school French and had brought her English/French dictionary to help her out when her memory failed her. Madame Le Page had been so relieved to make a friend that she introduced her to all her family as they visited. Alphonse, as eldest son, was particularly grateful for Mel’s translation services.
    â€˜Any time I can help you …’ he’d promised … and cometh the time cometh the man … Thank goodness!
    She placed the covered plates in the foot well of the front passenger seat, packing them so that they couldn’t move and spill. Then she placed the slightly more docile children in the car seat restraints.
    The traffic was good for a change and she arrived homeat three-fifty. She placed the meals in the fridge to be warmed in the microwave later and shut the kitchen door on the mess. There was now only time to wash the sweat and grime off and make an attempt at looking respectable.
    Oh! Where were the children!? … Eek! … They’re still in the car!
    She dashed out and plonked them, grizzling, on the sofa and put the TV on.
    At four-thirty they were leaving the house and setting off to pick up Alan and boss from the City. The children whined and moaned all the way as she drove like a cabbie, negotiating back streets and short cuts. She mentally patted herself on the back as she arrived at Ponsonby Tosser Bank bang on six o’clock. She took the bedraggled, urchin-like children into the huge marbled foyer and waited for her spouse.
    Hurrah! Everything had gone according to plan for a change!
    Her passengers came down in the lift and they all went out to the car. It was slightly difficult fitting everyone in, even though it was a people carrier. She had to do a rather embarrassing amount of opening the boot, crawling in on hands and knees, grappling for levers and breaking her nails to erect the back seats. Luckily, the two men seemed too preoccupied to notice when her skirt got rucked up, almost displaying her pants! But of course, Amy noticed, ‘Ha ha, Mummy! I can see your knickers! I can see your knickers!’ So, of course, then everyone else did. She just hoped she hadn’t been walking around with her skirt stuck in her pants when she arrived at the bank! Oh my God! The

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