The New Beginnings Coffee Club: The feel-good, heartwarming read from bestselling author Samantha Tonge. Samantha Tonge

your – our – problems? I may not be a businesswoman like her, but I like to think I’ve some degree of common sense and perspective that might have helped.’

      Zak bit his top lip. ‘I just called around to pick up April’s cardigan.’

      ‘No you didn’t. You only said you spoke to her on the phone before, about her course.’

      A strange expression crossed his face, kind of twisted, tortured. ‘Okay,’ he said in a strangulated voice. ‘She said it was for the best that I came clean; that’s why I suggested this meal … She insisted, you see …’

      ‘Come clean about our finance problems? Damn right! I couldn’t agree with her more.’

      ‘No … you don’t understand …’ His voice cracked, for some reason making my body shiver.

      ‘You’re not ill, are you?’ I whispered, hardly daring to voice those words. ‘Oh, Zak. What is it? Honestly. I can handle it. I’m here for you.’

      He threw his hands in the air. ‘No, I’m not. Oh, God, Jenny, this is hard.‘ He swallowed. ‘You see, it’s helped … talking to Chanelle …’

      ‘Chanelle? Help?’ I shrugged. ‘But how? Granted, she runs a small beauty salon, but she has no experience of big business.’

      ‘It’s difficult for you to understand, Jen. You aren’t an entrepreneur. But the principles of profit and loss are the same however big or small your company –’

      ‘But she irritates the hell out of you with her celebrity crushes and happy-go-lucky attitude.’

      He held his head in his hands again and then pulled those long fingers away.

      ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. Chanelle and I – we’ve wanted to tell you for a long time but my mind’s been on other things. Her business was on its knees so I helped her out with a loan, and then this season’s lines failed to make an impact so we had a common bond. Reproducing high-end catwalk designs for the bottom end of the market has always been our unique selling point but it just isn’t hitting the mark lately. All I’ve been able to think of these last weeks is how to save our livelihood and Chanelle’s had some ideas –’

      I gritted my teeth and held up my hand, a ball of heat scorching the inside of my chest. ‘Whoa! You invested in Chanelle’s business? It was you? Why did no one tell me? Why keep it a secret?’

      He shifted from foot to foot as my mind suddenly focused on various bits of information. Like freshly divorced Chanelle’s unrefined joy on first meeting me in the school playground, when she found out I was married to ‘sexy millionaire Zachary Masters’ (her words not mine). How she pursued our unlikely friendship. Zak’s late nights ‘working’ over recent months. How his hair had looked uncharacteristically messy when he turned up at the restaurant tonight. How recently our sex life had waned …

      A shard of realisation sliced through my body. My legs buckled. My hand rose to my throat and within seconds I was vomiting into a nearby bush. No. No! This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be possible. He came near to rub my back but I gave a muffled sob and jumped away.

      ‘How could I have been so stupid?’ I stuttered and gazed at leaves splattered with half-digested tiramisu, as the truth sank in. My chest squeezed tight as if my torso were wrapped in Spanx. Chanelle and I weren’t female soul mates, but hadn’t all those laughs, hugs, and lunches together counted for anything? Bit by bit my perfect life was crumbling – jagged chunks of it smashing through my ignorance.

      As for Zachary … I felt as if I’d been held upside down and had all my insides shaken out. Then a blinding white light swept across my eyes as I pictured April’s broken face finding out what I’d just deducted. My jaw clenched and I span one hundred and eighty degrees. ‘No wonder you were starving for breadsticks.’ My throat felt thick. ‘So much for meeting with a French client – although I suppose you did get a leg over the Chanelle …’

      I could hardly breathe.

      ‘So exactly long have you been shagging my best friend?’

      Zak covered his face with his hands.

      ‘Tell me!’ I shouted, voice shaking. I didn’t do shouting. Not even when April was her most disobedient. But suddenly I had no control over my body, including my voice.

      ‘Why her?’ My arms shook as violently as my words. ‘Don’t you …’ My voice wavered. ‘Don’t you fancy me any more?’

      Did Zak prefer her firm, round fake boobs? Her tumbling Baywatch hair? Could she make him moan with satisfaction and make him huskily drawl her name? My eyes pricked. He’d been my only lover. Was it inevitable that one day he’d want a woman who knew more than what he’d taught me?

      All of a sudden I felt nineteen again. I stepped forwards and peeled his hands away from that heartbreaker face.

      ‘Why her?’ I asked again.

      ‘Don’t do this to yourself,’ he muttered.

      ‘Oh, don’t pretend you give one fig about my feelings. You’re a coward; that’s the problem. Too weak to give me a proper answer.’ I was amazed my words were coherent since my throat felt as if it was disintegrating, it hurt so much.

      This wasn’t happening. Zak wasn’t a coward. I loved him. We were each other’s soul mates. I wanted to curl up into a tight ball and block out all the confusion running through my head. The hows, whens, and what ifs … The this isn’t possibles …

      ‘You really want to know?’ he said and threw his hands in the air. ‘Okay. You asked. Me and Chanelle … we laugh. Really laugh, you know? And talk business. She’s dynamic and –’

      ‘But I run Elite Eleganz’s charity projects. The house. Our lives. Don’t you dare dismiss that as if it doesn’t count!’

      ‘But you don’t take risks, Jenny,’ he shouted back. ‘You’ve been handed a cushy life on a plate and been glad just to eat off it, without hunting out your own food. When was the last time you put your reputation on the line or made a dream become a reality?’

      ‘Our family life was my dream.’ My voice faltered.

      ‘More like a comfort blanket.’

      Blinking rapidly, I stared at him through the darkness.

      ‘Chanelle and me … we share that spark of ambition, to make money. You …’ His voice suddenly softened. ‘Oh, Jenny … you’re just a housewife. And it’s not enough any more.’

      A cold, suffocating sensation engulfed my body and extinguished the fire in my belly. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Unable to compute. Just a housewife? Just the person who’d lovingly created a secure family life based on the routines and cuddles and family outings intended to strengthen the bonds between us and our beloved child?

      With an animalistic sob, I turned and stumbled through the night, his desperate, backtracking apologies going in one ear and out other. No physical weapon could have caused a deeper wound than those words. He’d reduced my life’s work – he’d reduced me – to nothing at all.

Chapter Three

      I waved at April who stood on the white tiled bank, at the other end of the pool, queuing up with children to slide across a giant spaceship inflatable. After a deep breath, I ducked under the water and opened my eyes as I swam hard, avoiding a maze of bare legs that looked distinctly pale compared to the golden, airbrushed ones at the private fitness club.

      The isolated, ethereal sensation reminded me of making love to Zak – the heady feeling that I’d left this physical earth and was tumbling through a black hole of pleasure. With my feet, I gave a determined push and shot up from the pool’s rough bottom. Cold air hit my cheeks and I gulped it in, like reality.