Free The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife by Gill Davy-Bowker

wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place.
    â€˜That’s OK,’ said the girls. ‘Here’s my number!’ competed Tracey and Sophie in unison. ‘If you ever want more commitment in a relationship, just call!’ Tracey winked. So did Sophie. Then they left.
    â€˜Mummy! Kelly’s smelly! Do we have to sit next to her?’ shouted Amy.
    â€˜No choice, darling. Well, I suppose I could put one of your seats in the front …’
    â€˜Yes, Mummy! Me! Me!’ bellowed Amy.
    â€˜No, Mummy! Me!’ argued Michael.
    Ivan and Matilda quietly sneaked into the very back of the car. This was going to take some careful consideration, as Mel’s brain was fried and all she wanted was a relatively peaceful and tantrum-free drive home. As Amy was the child who could cause more harm and devastation in one minute than Michael could, she decided upon putting Amy in thefront although she knew it wasn’t very fair.
    â€˜OK, Amy … you can sit in the front but Michael can have an extra treat for having to stay in the back with the smell, OK?’ Amazingly, this seemed to resolve the dispute quite nicely and they headed back for London with the radio on, trying to cover up the gentle retching sounds exuding from Kelly as they drove.
    Kelly was just starting to wake up as they approached her house. She looked dreadful, with long, beaded strands of dribble all over her face and her hair matted to the side of her head where the beer had dried and set. The other side of her head had a great frizz ball of hair sticking out at a wayward angle. Amy and Michael mercifully dozed off and she had hardly had a peep out of Ivan and Matilda. Mel fervently hoped that Robert would be in so he could get Kelly inside, cleaned up and put to bed and could reassure and comfort the children. It can’t have been very nice for them to see their mum in that state. She was worried that they seemed so subdued.
    Hooray! she thought. The lights were on and Robert’s car was parked in the driveway.
    â€˜Oh God. I feel awful!’ said Kelly.
    Mel shot out of the car, up the driveway and rang the doorbell. It took a while for Robert to open the door and when he did, he looked rather ruffled and had what looked like lipstick on his collar. Surely not?! Well, she didn’t have time to contemplate the scene because she heard a ‘flump’ as Kelly fell out of the car onto the pavement, legs akimbo like a not-so-sweet baby ox. She was trying to balance against the car to get to the back and let her children out, but she looked like a mime artist, pushing against invisible forces and trying to walk through real matter. Robert peered down the driveway.
    â€˜Well … help me then!’ ordered Mel. So he followed obediently in stockinged feet to the car. Stockinged feet! Hehad fishnet stockings poking out from the ends of his trouser legs. This was altogether too weird for this time of day when she’d had enough weirdness to last a lifetime. Robert approached the back doors and let his children out. They looked like a pair of mucky urchins. It seemed as if both of them were a little shell-shocked but they hadn’t been weeping silent tears as Mel had feared. In fact they didn’t appear that surprised to see Kelly in this state or to see their father in stockinged feet and … Oh My God! Was that the remains of false-eyelash-effect mascara on his lashes!? It must be the light, she thought. Please let it be the light. Kelly was holding on to the car with her bum swaying back and forth, resembling a person with no sea legs trying to stand on a small rubber dinghy out in a less than clement sea.
    â€˜Can you carry her in? I don’t think she can let go of the car. I’ll bring the kids.’
    Gingerly, Robert approached his wife, carefully trying to gain a hold. ‘Gerroff me!?’ Kelly said.
    â€˜Kelly, come on. What have you been doing to