Free My Husband's Wife by Amanda Prowse

Not that Phil is grubby! I’m just putting my foot in it today.’ She laughed again, loudly.
    Rosie laughed too. ‘No, you were right the first time – he can get quite grubby.’
    ‘I should let you go.’ Geraldine smiled. ‘Really, really lovely to meet you. Give my best to Phil, won’t you?’
    ‘I will.’ Rosie smiled and waved as Geraldine left. ‘Ha! Well I never,’ she muttered, then felt the bloom of self-consciousness at having laughed out loud in the local shop.
    ‘You okay there, Mrs Tipcott?’ Mrs Blackmore’s busty granddaughter asked from behind the till.
    ‘Yes thanks, love.’ She folded the newspaper and laid it on top of her shopping. ‘I’m fine.’ She couldn’t wait to show Phil.
    *
    Rosie fed the girls and ran the bath so they could both have a quick soak before bed. As they splashed in the bubbles, she sat on the loo and read Clark’s article. Naomi filled her cheeks with water and spat it at Leona, who wailed loudly.
    ‘Please, girls! Can’t I just have five minutes’ peace to read this? Naomi, please stop gobbing water at your sister. It’s not nice.’
    ‘I didn’t!’ She held her hands up with an expression so virtuous it was as if butter wouldn’t melt.
    ‘What do you mean? I saw you do it!’ Rosie glared at her.
    ‘I always get the blame!’ Naomi’s protest increased in both vigour and volume.
    ‘Because it’s always you!’ Rosie replied.
    ‘It’s not fair!’ Naomi slapped her palms down on the surface of the water and, to everyone’s surprise, bubbles leapt from the bath and began raining down on them.
    ‘For goodness’ sake!’ Rosie shook the droplets from the paper and folded it quickly to avoid another soaking.
    Leona pointed at her mum and laughed so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. Naomi followed suit until they were giggling and smiling, back to being the best of friends.
    ‘What are you two laughing at?’ Rosie couldn’t help but smile; their happiness was irresistibly infectious. It was only when she stood up and looked in the mirror that she saw the large crest of fluffy white bubbles that had landed on the top of her head, making her look part punk, part ice-cream cone.
    ‘Oh my goodness!’ She laughed, relishing the joy that often came from the smallest of things.
    ‘Well, I’m glad someone’s had a good day.’ Phil’s voice came from the landing.
    ‘Mummy’s got bird poo on her head!’ Naomi shouted.
    Phil pushed on the door and shook his head at the sight of his wife. ‘Hey, guys. I’ll be downstairs,’ he added, sounding far more downbeat than the situation warranted.
    Rosie put the girls into their pyjamas, turned back their duvets and clicked on the nightlights in their bedroom.
    ‘Right, you can have five minutes chatting to your dad and then it’s bed.’
    The two little girls hotfooted it downstairs, wanting to make the most of those five minutes, which, if they were canny, they knew they could stretch to ten.
    They actually managed fifteen. As Rosie wished them goodnight and closed their bedroom door, a welcome blanket of hush descended on the house, smothering the flames of chaos that had crackled brightly only minutes earlier. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the day’s tiredness wash over her. Retrieving the newspaper from the bed, she crept downstairs and into the lounge.
    ‘You’ll never guess, Phil... Two things. Firstly, I met that Geraldine Farmer and she said to give you her best. She’s lovely! I think she was glad to have someone to chat to.’
    He stared at her.
    ‘And secondly, that man I spoke to, the one who was staying in the caravans, I saw his article today, the one he was writing.’ She held up the paper.
    ‘What is it I have to guess , exactly?’ He looked up at her, his expression weary.
    ‘What?’ She was a little confused.
    ‘You said I’d never guess?’ he shot back irritably.
    ‘Well, nothing. I’m just saying, it was really strange, he said he was writing an article