For Better or For Worse

By Joanne Rawson

Take a trip to the steamy side of English suburbia. To the envying eyes of the locals, three ordinary women in their forties seem to have wonderful families and excellent careers. Or do they?

Annie Fitzgerald's perfect marriage to the debonair Patrick falls apart when she discovers him having an affair. Struggling with a failed marriage, her world turns upside down. Suddenly being at home is not the ideal life she thought it would be. Annie finds solace in her salsa teacher. Patrick ends his affair, but with near fatal consequences.

Lorna Davies, mother of four children, is in a loveless marriage to Robin. Unexpectedly she literally runs into Ben Adams, an old flame from her teens. Secrets about her past that she has kept hidden for years are revealed, dramatically affecting her family, changing all their lives.

Celina Peel's ex-husband, Ethan, arrives at her office after being gone twelve years. She truly believes him when he says he has changed. As Celina makes plans for the future with Ethan, she can not help wondering, has he changed or not? She encounters another problem, her son's girlfriend. Unable to cut the apron strings, Celina has to accept Sam's girlfriend or lose him forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Feb 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781612355467

Joanne Rawson

Joanne Rawson was born and brought up in Derbyshire England. After leaving college in 1984, she headed off to be an au pair in the Loire Valley, France for one year.Returning back, to England, Joanne worked work for Derbyshire Education Authority in special education, and then for Derbyshire Social services working with adults with learning and physical difficulties.In 2005, Joanne and her husband decided to give up their hectic lifestyle, after ten years of managing branded restaurants around London's M25, now spending her time in England, Goa, and Malaysia, writing romantic novels and short stories.

Book preview

To any passer-by, Rising Oaks was yet another suburban English village. However, Bishops Close, with its renovated cottages and small terraces converted into modern residences by couples escaping from the madness of city life, added a touch of wealth to the other grey houses and the ever-increasing rabbit warren of the housing estate. That is why, to the locals of Rising Oaks, it was a ritual to take daily walks or slow drives, straining to look into homes for ideas to take back to their shoebox houses and gardens, always in anticipation of a glimpse of three women. They really were just ordinary, but to the envied eyes of the locals, all had what seemed to be wonderful families and excellent careers, what most of the women of Rising Oaks aspired to have. These women, Annie Fitzgerald, Lorna Davies and Celina Peel, friends for years, seemed to be three perfect women, but in reality, each one had her secrets, trials and tribulations; what they never envisaged was how their lives would change one glorious day in June.

* * * *

Lorna Davies weaved in and out of the traffic, with the dexterity of a Formula One driver, while at the same time on her car phone, apologised profusely to her boss for leaving the perspective buyers of 24 Madison Court in the lurch, assuring him that it would not happen again.

Battling through the one-way system, Lorna questioned herself about constantly pestering Robin to return to work, wondering now if she had made the right decision. Lorna openly admitted that her four children were not the typical role models, to any broody young mum, least of all to her new highflying boss at the estate agents where Lorna had just started to work. At her interview, Lorna made it perfectly clear that her four children were used to a working mother, and, with the nanny on hand, this job couldn’t be more suitable for her. Little did he know, Lorna thought as she sat, crossed legged, crossed fingered and appalled at herself, and at her blatant lies. Tara, seventeen now, had been a wonderful baby. Her nanny adored her. The birth of Lorna’s eight-year-old son Jason and twins, Wilson and Wayne, now six, not only gave Lorna and Robin a short sharp shock into parenting, but the nanny as well.

After her sudden departure, a succession of nannies had passed through their house. Timid Antoinette managed three weeks, finding Jason demanding twenty-four seven. Lorna had big hopes for Rula, but the day Lorna returned from work to find her bags packed in the hall, with a broken nose, and a couple of butterfly stitches in her eyebrow, she agreed that perhaps leaving was for the best. Heidi came with glowing references but was let go, no reflection on her work with the twins, but Robin seemed far too interested in the welfare of their pretty, blonde Norwegian nanny.

Just as Lorna was beginning to wonder if there was anyone out there that could cope with her children, the agency sent Comfort. Her name might be Comfort, but she ruled the boys and the rest of the family with a rod of iron. When the twins started school, she offered to stay, much to Lorna’s relief. Now here she was for the second time this month, leaving clients to rescue her boys, making promises she couldn’t keep that this would be the last time.

Lorna couldn’t understand what had spurred the boys’ latest caper. It had been a normal chaotic morning in the Davies house, Robin in his morning battle to pull Jason out of bed, Comfort in a frenzy packing lunches, kept one eye on the twins as they ate their scrambled eggs, making sure they were not sneaking it to Moggie their cat, while Lorna had yet another argument with Tara about spending the weekend in a tent with Thomas her new boyfriend at an animal rights rally.

Then it all came to Lorna in a flash. Of course, the little buggers. Tara and her animal rights issues. For one brief second, Lorna closed her eyes, knowing quite well that this last little escapade would cost either the boys having to leave St Thomas’ or put a big dent in last month’s bonus. As she opened her eyes, a four-wheel truck loomed up on her, stationary at the traffic lights. Standing on the breaks, the impact as she went into the back of the silver tank vibrated through her body, the sound of crushing metal sounded more expensive than the bribe for her sons’ misdemeanours.

Shi ... shine a light. She unhooked her seatbelt, grabbed her bag then jumped out of the car.

Already the driver was out, slammed his door then gestured a finger of discontent to a passing vehicle sounding its horn.

You stupid woman. What in the name ...

Sorry, it was totally my fault. There has been an emergency, and I need to get to my children’s school. Lorna started rummaging through her bag. I’m sure we can sort this out amicably, without insurance. The last thing I need is an issue with my husband. Damn, where are my cards?

* * * *

Ben Adams assessed the damage to his precious truck, not at all interested in a dumb housewife’s domestic issues. Happy that there was more damage to her vehicle than his, he looked for the first time at the panic-stricken woman. Were his eyes deceiving him? After all these years of hoping, that on the off chance he would see her again? Maybe not quite like this. Ben had imagined he would see Lorna walking around a supermarket, perhaps seeing her from across the street, definitely not having her crash into him. Yet here she was, Lorna Miles, as she had been all those years ago when she left him broken hearted. The crash had just made his day.

Not much damage. Just a scratch on the bumper and a crack in the brake light.

Oh, was all she could say, amazed by his calmness, hoping that Robin would take the news of her crushed bonnet with the same composure, which was highly unlikely seeing, as Robin had zero tolerance with any women drivers. Here’s my card. Whatever it costs, just send me the bill.

Lorna passed the card over, suddenly aware how her heartbeat had become rapid and strong, beating inside her chest. Without being too obvious, she moved forward to take a better look at him. If she were not so vain and wore her glasses, she would have recognized him right away. Her body began to shake inside, finding it hard to breathe, desperate to fill her lungs with fresh air. He was older. The once slender body now had muscles in all the right places. Was it really him? Most of all did he know it was her?

With a shaking hand, she passed Ben the card. Surely once he saw the name he would say something. Ben seemed to be digesting every letter and number printed on it. Lorna wondered if she should say something. Would that be too bold? It could be someone else, and then she would feel humiliated. It would look like she was trying to flirt with a man she thought she once knew, to get her off the hook.

Well, Lorna Davies, I will be in touch. As he walked back to his truck, he stopped and turned to look at her. By the way, what is the emergency?

It seems my twin boys let out all the animals in the pet corner. Her face flamed, embarrassed she had two monsters for sons.

Laughing, he got into his car. Yes, Lorna knew that laugh very well. She shouted to him. Do I know you?

As he drove away, he sang through the window. You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar.

Lorna froze on the spot. It was Ben Adams.

* * * *

If the day had not been bad enough, when Lorna finally arrived home from the twin’s school, mayhem was breaking out in the lounge.

You just want to spoil everything. I really hate you and Lorna. Tara had taken to calling her parents by their Christian names. Like you two never spent the night together before you were married. She yelled at Robin at the top of her voice.

Wayne and Wilson seized the chance to make a getaway from their mother. By Tara’s high-pitched screams, they could be off the hook for a short while at least. Lorna braced herself for yet another confrontation.

Until six months ago, seventeen year old Tara had been a sweet straight A student, chairperson of the debating society with the voice of an angel in the school choir. Now she held a crusade to defy anything her parents suggested. It all started with the need to have pink streaks in her hair. After endless arguments Lorna told her under no circumstances whilst Tara lived under her roof would she agree. The next day Tara arrived home with pink and purple streaks, wearing a long black dress, black lace gloves and motorbike boots, thanks to Rosie her new soul mate, the only person in the world who understood her.

Now clad in her black attire and psychedelic Wellingtons, Tara gave a grunt when she saw Lorna. Great, now bloody Mother Teresa has arrived. Tara flopped down onto the sofa.

Just Mum will do, thank you, Tara, Lorna’s hands itched to slap some sense into her daughter. I really am very tired. The short version of this conversation is, please, go ahead and bonk yourself silly this weekend, but if you do, then you are no longer welcome in this house. Do I make myself perfectly clear?

Robin dropped his evening paper, wondering if his wife had gone stark staring bonkers. Reprimanding the children he always left to Lorna. He didn’t seem to have the same impact of authority, but this was way off beat even for Lorna.

Tara’s jaw fell, not sure if her mother was testing her. She was not waiting around to find out though. Fine, I will. She jumped up, hovering and waiting for Lorna’s reaction. So, I’m going. Alright?

Lorna was a true professional at crying wolf with her children. Well, if that is what you want, then it is fine by me.

From behind the sofa Jason emerged looking like Darth Vader. His new craze was dressing in an old gasmask his grandfather had given him and carrying a mock machine gun, which made the rest of the Davies family jump in fright.

Tara, don’t go, his muffled voice cried from behind his mask.

Shut up, Jason, and act your age. With a warble of fear in her voice, Tara knew she had to leave with an impact. See you then, Lorna, Robin. Thanks for seventeen years of pure hell. She stormed out of the lounge, with Jason running after her.

Lorna looked at Robin. Without a word he shook his paper and returned to it. Thanks for your support, Robin. As usual you demonstrated your position to perfection.

Tara shouted from the hall. Lorna, there’s a tradesman for you.

With no reaction from Robin, Lorna took a deep sigh, giving one last chance for her husband to respond.

Robin glanced over the top of his newspaper. Were you not needed at the door, Lorna?

You know, one day, Robin, you’ll wish you had got involved with your children. Unperturbed, he carried on reading. Lorna felt like screaming, but knew quite well that this would not achieve any dramatic response from her husband. Husband she thought. The day he acts like a husband or father I will drop dead with shock. She went to see what poor person had just found themselves party to yet another Davis household dispute.

Tara bounded down the stairs, Jason at her heels, pleading with her to stay. Pushing her way out of the front door, Jason yelled at Lorna. It’s your fault she is leaving. Why did you have to say it was okay for her to go?

Jason, this is Tara. She will go to Rosie’s, then be back tomorrow with her tail between her legs. Now go upstairs and make sure the twins are not up to anything. It’s been awfully quite up there.

Wiping the tears away from his flushed face, Jason knew his mother was right, so slowly went back up the stairs, but not before he passed one last comment. She may not come back this time, and what will you do then, Mum?

Lurking at the front door, Lorna saw a bewildered Ben Adams. Sorry, that was my highly hormonal daughter and sensitive son. Do come inside. It’s Ben, isn’t it? Ben Adams?

As Ben turned to watch Tara strut down the road, pushing clothes into what looked like a black bin liner, Lorna looked intently at Ben. His tight jeans, the t-shirt that fitted snugly across his firm upper body, long curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail, sent shivers down her back. All the anger she had been feeling suddenly disappeared. It was quite uncanny that Ben had been flittering around in her thoughts much more than normal over the past few months, and here he was, standing in her hallway. Not quite the reunion she had imagined.

Ben scrutinized the beautiful young woman swaggering down the road. As she had pushed passed him, the striking resemblance of Lorna took him back eighteen years. Not a day went by without him thinking of her. What she was doing? What did she look like? Moreover, would she ever want to see him?

She’s beautiful, just like her mum. You must be very proud of her, Ben said with sincerity, yet the slight shake in his voice made Lorna feel anxious about her daughter’s angry outburst, witnessed by him.

I am, but on days like today, I never thought I would say it, but I now feel so sorry for my mother. About to say Tara’s choice in boyfriends left much to be desired, she remembered the countless arguments her mother and she had had about Ben. Anyway, you don’t want to hear about my domestic dilemmas. Do you have the bill for me?

Ben looked around the elegant hallway. Speaking of which, this place is a far cry from your mother’s Hackney flat. You always said you were better than that.

Lorna cringed. For many years, she had tried to put her past behind her.

Sensing her embarrassment Ben changed the subject. Ernie, a mate of mine, says he will do it as moonlight for only twenty quid.

Lorna grabbed her bag from the hall table and, with shaking hands, passed the money. Yes, that’s fine.

No, Ben refused the money. How could I take money from you, Lorna? I just popped by. I just wanted to say it was great seeing you after all this time. I’ll give you my card. Any building work you need give me a ring—or just give me a ring anyway. He dropped the card on the table.

I think perhaps not, Ben. Too many things have passed under our bridges since then.

Whatever. By the way, your daughter, what is her name?

Tara.

That’s a beautiful name.

As she closed the door, she watched Ben walk down the drive.

She had always dreaded the past coming back to haunt her, digging up the lies, deceit, with all the pain it would cause, but suddenly, as bizarre as it might seem, she felt refreshed by those two fleeting meetings with Ben.

Who was that? Robin emerged from the lounge.

No one in particular. I’ll tell you over dinner. Lorna picked up the card and slipped it into her bag.

* * * *

Dinner was awkward; Tara’s place sat empty. The twins listened as Lorna told Robin about their day of shame. Of how so engrossed in wondering what had provoked them to do such a stupid thing she had crashed into the back of a stationary car. Now this heroic attempt to free the class pet corner had turned out to be a costly exercise with the damage to both cars and a very handsome donation to the school swimming pool fund. While Lorna found herself doing all the talking and issuing out suitable punishments added to their after school detentions, the boys sat in horror. Finally, Lorna turned to Robin, asking if he would like to add anything. He took the last sip of his wine, wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and then rose from his seat. As always, Lorna, I am sure you will make the right choice. You always do. If you’ll excuse me I have some papers to read.

That’s it? Lorna yelled. That’s all you have to say about our children?

Robin looked down the table to Lorna. Perhaps if you had not been so stupid in getting yourself pregnant twice after Tara and damned stubborn about continuing to work, then maybe Wayne and Wilson would not wreak havoc wherever they go. Tara would have not turned into the image of you when you were seventeen, and Jason would not be so clingy.

Shocked by Robin’s brash attitude that she was the reason for her children’s behaviour, Lorna didn’t know quite how to respond. She didn’t have to consider it for too long as he left the dining room without a word. The only sound heard in the moment’s silence was the slamming of the study door.

For over ten minutes, Lorna stood at the sink, washing the same plate. It had not been the children or her arrogant husband that had sent her into a temporary daydream; she just couldn’t get Ben out of her mind. Drying her hands, she went to her bag, picked up her mobile, punched out the numbers and waited anxiously. Hi, can we meet?

Chapter Two

Sally Green was a difficult housekeeper to get hold of, which was why Joyce Mansfield couldn’t believe her luck when Sally offered to take the position at Glebe Cottage. They had met for coffee and chatted for a while. Joyce, being the sweet, charming person she was, with those trusting big brown eyes that had watered over, spoke of the bereaved doctor, alone in his rambling house, with not a soul in the world to care for him. Normally Sally would have gained all the information she needed from that meeting, and then visited the home before making any rash decisions, but Joyce had been good, with her emphasis on his loneliness, throwing all his time into his practise.

And I try so hard to look after his house. Well with him being a neighbour and all, but I am so tired. I am not as young as I used to be, trying to keep two houses and working at the surgery. You will take the job, won’t you?

Joyce had looked so tired, and the desperation on her face tugged at Sally’s heartstrings so much that, without thinking, she accepted the job.

As Sally waited for the arrival of Dr. Shaw, she could hear Joyce banging around in the kitchen in an attempt to make coffee. Recalling her recent conversation, clearly Joyce had no idea how in need of a housekeeper he really was. The dusty room cried out for polish. Curtains at the windows looked rich and expensive, but in desperate need of cleaning and bringing back to life. The wooden floor in places had scuffmarks; a small toy box sat in the corner, looked sad and lonely. Sally wondered how long he had been a widower. Agitated with the wait for her new employee, she wandered to the French doors. Compared to the gravel drive with its exotic trees, the back garden had a neglected lawn with flowerbeds strangled by overgrowing weeds. Sally had pictured an idyllic cottage, roses around the door, immaculate garden, which perhaps at sometime it had been.

* * * *

Dr. Steven Shaw let himself in through the kitchen door; Joyce was not only his rock at the surgery, but also a priceless neighbour. She laid a tray with the best china and a plate of homemade cakes.

Sorry, Joyce. Mr. Matthews took a little longer than normal. Is she here? Steven tried to sneak a fairy cake, but Joyce was too quick to tap his fingers.

Yes, she has been waiting ages.

Well, what is she like? He eyed the juicy fruitcake.

To avoid temptation Joyce moved the tray away from his reach. Perfect. Just the person you need. You should be grateful she didn’t do a runner when she saw the state of the place. Joyce looked around the messy kitchen, pots piled in the sink, breakfast dishes still on the table with the morning paper still open, a sure sign that a man lived there on his own.

Mm... Yes, left in a hurry this morning. Well, I had better get in there and make my peace. He gave Joyce a peck on the cheek.

It’s not me you need to soft soap. It’s poor Mrs. Green that has to clear up this mess.

A small cough made Sally jump. As she turned around the sight of Dr. Shaw took her aback. Having no preconceived ideas as to what her new employee would be like, she just assumed he would be old, not smack you in the face and hold your breath gorgeous. Her eyes transfixed on his black and white pinstriped shirt which showed the outline of his trim torso as he moved forward to take her hand. Although huge, it felt soft and gentle. Catching a whiff of his aftershave, she thought he even smelt scrumptious. Sally couldn’t help thinking that the reason the doctor was so busy was due to all the fluttering hearts of his female patients. Rendered speechless she realised in the awkward silence that Dr Shaw looked as flabbergasted as her.

For goodness sake, speak, Sally, speak. The words echoed in her head. This man was obviously expecting a Betty Turpin look-alike. Clearing her voice, she managed to sound the true professional she was. Dr Shaw, Sally Green.

When Joyce had told Steven about Sally, he had imagined an older woman, matronly, who would fill him up with shepherd’s pie or beef stew and dumplings. Not this tall athletic body, beautiful brown hair, tied in an immaculate French plait or the navy blue suit that gave the impression she was an executive in the city, certainly not a housekeeper.

Mrs. Green? Sorry, when I was told Mrs. I expected someone—pardon my frankness, but this is a live in position. Sorry if I have caused you any unnecessary inconvenience.

The straight forwardness of this divine being, with the giant hands as soft as silk, took Sally by surprise. Yes, I am a Mrs. Fortunately only for eighteen months when my husband traded me in for a new Mrs. Green. Steven found himself smiling at the blasé way she described her marriage. He wondered what fool of a man would give up such a woman; a lump came into his throat as he thought about his wife and son.

Please take a seat. He guided her by the arm to the sofa then sat beside her. As you can see, keeping a house really is not my forte. What with my practise and other commitments I seem to have let things slip. Two years ago my wife and dear son were tragically killed in a car crash.

Sally, unaware of her actions, took his hands and gave him a warm tender smile. Doctor, I am so sorry for your loss. It must be very hard for you. Holding his hands, she saw herself rubbing them softly and quickly pulled away, embarrassed at her intimacy.

Thank you for your kindness. Now if we are to share the same house perhaps we should cut with the formalities. You will call me Steven, and I will call you Sally.

That had never crossed her mind until now. Did he just say ‘share the same house’? With a smile of apprehension she nodded her head.

Your secretary said I should start right away, or perhaps you would like to take time to consider? Hoping perhaps for the latter, at least she could contact the family who for months had been pursuing her services.

Sally, you are the answer to my prayers. Please start today. I will show you around, and then feel free to make yourself at home. I have to be in the surgery in an hour, so I will not be home until later this evening.

Sally’s head swam with pros and cons as to why this would be a good appointment for her. Once she had the place sorted out that would leave time for her painting, but could she live in the same house with this vision of perfection seated beside her.

Joyce gave a smile of satisfaction as she quietly moved back into the kitchen. Her sister had been right. Sally would be perfect. She couldn’t wait to tell Annie.

* * * *

For some reason, as Sally sat at the kitchen table making a list of jobs, she felt like an intruder. Which was absurd! Over the last ten years in her capacity as a housekeeper, she had sat in numerous kitchens for the first time. What ludicrous ideas had been going through her mind when she agreed to take this job?

Crossing off FIND A NEW JOB at the top of her list, Sally knew she had made a commitment. The best thing she could do was to get down to the job in hand, regardless of how attractive, sexy and charming Steven was. All she had to do was think about Greg. What a rat he was. That always put her off men for a few weeks.

Twelve months ago Greg, ten years older than Sally, had left her for the delectable Darcy Jones, an actress on a tacky yet top rated afternoon soap. Sally soon found out who her friends were. When they had a chance to go to dinner with Darcy Jones or sit with Sally and a bottle of Chardonnay and a box of Kleenex, inevitably Darcy won. The day after their divorce was final the cover story of a soap magazine announced the happy couple’s engagement. Haunting Sally, the picture of Greg and Darcy splashed on the front page was everywhere she went, the supermarket, the garage. And to make matters worse were her so-called friends ringing her up to ask if she had seen Greg on the front page. Then the big bombshell—one of the glossy magazines did a full cover story of the wedding, the headlines Two celebrations for Darcy Jones. They announced she was pregnant. Sally was beyond humiliated. For the whole eighteen months of their marriage Greg had said, not just to her but friends likewise, that if ever she got

Reviews for For Better or For Worse

[Lisa Inskipp · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Tbe story was good, not the best I have ever read, but reasonably entertaining. What was impossible, was the spelling and misuse of words, where the author clearly had no idea what they meant. For instance, hypercritical for hypocritical, par say instead of per se, crimp line skirt, instead of crimplene skirt, and my all time favourite, using sibling where she clearly meant offspring, unless there was a plot twist I missed and one young couple weee brother and sister. I would strongly suggest the publisher employ a new editor or whoever checks these things, and the author acquaint herself with a dictionary.

[rkaye · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I didn’t really like any of the characters. And there’s no comeuppance for Ethan which I didn’t like...but these days, I don’t expect much from authors anymore...