Twisted

Chapter 1

It was the first dinner party Lena Fulford had agreed to attend since the separation from her husband. She was eager to show off her new image, although she couldn’t help a shiver of trepidation at being on her own. She had chosen to wear a new, and very expensive, figure-hugging Ralph Lauren white cocktail dress. Her thick blonde shoulder-length hair was loose and she’d made sure her makeup was perfect by going to the beauty salon that afternoon. She had decided to take herself to the dinner party, and she felt more in control by doing so. However, she began to doubt her decision as there was not a parking space to be found on Richmond Hill. After having to go past her host’s house twice, in frustration she decided to leave her car in the guests’ area at the Richmond Hill Hotel. From there she walked to the Berkoffs’ house, which was midway up the hill. Nervously she clutched her small white bag and flushed with embarrassment when the hostess opened the front door and shrieked.

‘Oh my goodness, JUST look at you!’ Maria Berkoff was her usual theatrical self.

She was a large overweight woman, which was accentuated by her tight red evening dress. But her hair was well-coiffed, and she wore chandelier drop earrings along with a multitude of pearl necklaces.

‘Lena, you look absolutely stunning, darling, and you seem taller than I remember. I might need a divorce so I can get to slim down and look so good – you must have lost pounds.’

‘Marcus and I are not divorced quite yet, and I think the weight loss is down to all the stress.’ Lena gave a small smile.

‘Oh how awful, but I thought it was all very amicable?’

‘It is, but I have been so busy organizing a new children’s themed party business, designing toys and-’

‘Really,’ an uninterested Maria said as she turned away.

‘I’ve called it Kiddy Winks. It’s been exhausting having to deal with all the hire of new staff and-’

‘Oh Kiddley Winks – what a super name.’

‘It’s Kiddy-’ Lena started to say before Maria interrupted.

‘The Middletons have had the most fantastic success running just the same sort of thing, so I’m certain yours will be strong competition. Now come and have a glass of champagne and let me introduce you to everyone. I think you have met most of them before at some time or other.’

Lena followed Maria into a large glass conservatory, where numerous well-heeled guests were gathered. Maria’s portly and effusive husband Sasha hurried to hand her a drink.

‘How lovely to see you, Lena! We do miss old Marcus, he was always the life and soul of our little events. How is the old chap doing?’

‘He was very well the last time I spoke with him,’ Lena assured him.

‘Good, and what about that daughter of yours – Angie, is it?’

‘No, Amy; she’s doing very well and enjoying boarding school.’

‘Jolly good, now let me introduce you to a very dear friend – he used to play squash with your husband, thrashed him regularly.’

Lena found it all completely excruciating, even more so as everyone was eager to know how Marcus was doing and repeatedly told her how much he was missed. Although she had met most of the Berkoffs’ guests before she had always been accompanied by her husband on such occasions. Now she had to endure being the focus of everyone’s attention simply because she was single. At dinner Lena found herself seated next to a much younger man and had to put up with Maria, always delighted with an excuse to gossip, giggling that perhaps her glamorous looks were down to her finding a ‘toy boy’.

Lena was infuriated and said curtly that she had no interest in forming any new relationship.

‘My latest business is my priority right now,’ she added.

‘Just teasing, darling, you are such a clever lady and very successful,’ Maria said as dinner was served.

For Lena it was three courses of substandard tasteless offerings, made worse by having to listen to one guest after another recalling previous evenings when Marcus had held court. He was a great storyteller, often with self-deprecating anecdotes about himself and his failed business ventures. The fact that Lena had invariably financed his thwarted attempts at success was never acknowledged. Being attractive, and somewhat vain, Marcus always relished the attention, and would have enjoyed listening to everyone repeating how much he was missed.

‘So will you be staying on in that gorgeous house?’ Maria asked.

‘I’m not sure, we haven’t discussed or finalized anything as yet.’

‘So where is that ex of yours living?’ Sasha asked, pouring himself some wine, and then proffering the bottle to Lena for a refill.

‘He has rented a flat in Mayfair from a friend who is abroad,’ she said and placed her hand politely over her wine glass. ‘I’m driving so I will just stick to water thank you, Sasha.’

‘Mayfair! Well do pass on our warmest regards, and email us his address. He never answers his mobile or the messages I leave him, and Maria and I would love to see him.’

‘I think he has a new number, and I’ll remind him to call you,’ Lena managed to promise politely.

At the earliest opportunity after coffee and mints, she excused herself, saying that she had a business meeting scheduled for early the next morning.

‘What, on a Sunday?’ Maria demanded loudly.

Lena flushed and explained that due to the success of Kiddy Winks she needed every spare moment to deal with the ever growing sales and orders for more stock. The by now rather drunk Sasha guided her to the front door, his sweating hand clasping her elbow and moving to her waist as his flushed face came too close.

‘Perhaps we could have dinner one evening,’ he suggested, leering. ‘You know Maria and I have a sort of open thing and I’d like to get to know you on a more personal level.’

She moved away from him, and reached to open the door herself, but he was persistent.

‘How are you fixed for next week? There’s a new restaurant opened in Chiswick. I think Maria saw Marcus there one night.’

She gave him an icy stare, refusing to even contemplate answering. He opened the front door wider as she edged past him without saying a word. As she walked down the short path and headed back to where she had parked, she was horribly aware that he was standing there watching her. It had been a really hideous evening and one she would not consider repeating. She had been separated from Marcus for two years, yet tonight for some reason it felt as if it had only just happened. She had refused many other invitations to parties and dinners, but badgered by Maria she felt forced to attend this one, even though she knew full well the Berkoffs were really Marcus’s friends, as were most of the people seated round the dinner table.

It took a while for her to ease the car out of the parking space, moving backwards and forwards and becoming even more agitated as the hotel car park was by now full for a big function. Why had she agreed to go? She’d known what it was going to be like. By the time she had succeeded in manoeuvring out of the tight space she had answered herself. She had wanted to prove that she could do it. She also wanted to tell everyone about how successful Kiddy Winks was becoming. This latest business venture had been a major part in getting her life back in order, and then deciding that if she could make the business work then she could also do something about herself. The marriage had been very strained for some time before the separation, and she had allowed herself to overeat and had spent days in an old tracksuit. She had not bothered with hair or makeup, her skin had erupted in patches, and the depression that had dominated her life was only relieved by her determination to make a success of Kiddy Winks. But now she’d lost the extra weight and was back to size twelve.

It had been a strange relief when Marcus had suggested they first separate or take ‘time out’, as was his crass way of putting it. Marcus had moved out; his design company was already in financial trouble, and shortly before his decision to leave he had wondered whether he should continue keeping it afloat. Lena had been impatient; this was not the first business venture that had failed. Over the seventeen years they had been married, she had constantly diverted money from her accounts to his in the hope that he would, as he had always promised, repay her with interest. This last time she had refused, and after taking advice from her accountant she had confronted her husband with worrying discrepancies in their joint bank account. Marcus had withdrawn thirty-five thousand pounds, leaving no money to pay for the mortgage on their substantial house in Richmond, the household staff or the utilities. Lena had to arrange to pay from her private account or they would have been taken to court.

Lena cancelled the joint account and Marcus had given her one of his childish shrugs, saying that she should consider what it meant. She could hardly believe that he was insinuating that it virtually signalled their marriage was over. In reality it was the start of their already strained relationship reaching breaking point, so by the time he had suggested they have a trial separation, his ‘time out’, she knew the marriage was heading for permanent closure. She had loved him, and they had been an enviable couple to their mutual friends, who were breaking up or divorcing throughout their seventeen years together. What few of even their close friends knew, as had been obvious that evening, was that Lena had always been the main breadwinner. She had never so much as hinted at it, she had cared that much for Marcus. He had tried numerous career moves, and with every new venture she had been supportive and encouraging. The fact they all turned into failures, and lost money – her hard-earned cash – never really bothered her as she had always felt badly for him. He appeared on the surface to take a positive attitude, refusing to feel sorry for himself, and always determined that the next idea he dreamed up would be successful. She knew deep down he was crestfallen and disappointed, and that he refused to show how much it affected him, for her benefit. So she had thought it churlish to complain.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint when exactly the change in her attitude towards him began to take seed. Prior to the separation she had embarked on opening new companies and he had been dismissive, suggesting that surely she had enough to keep her occupied. His attitude had only made her more determined and her animal-print cushions and handcrafted nursery furniture companies became a success and, like her new venture, Kiddy Winks, were all doing very well, taking orders from John Lewis, Harrods and Harvey Nicks. Dealing with the orders and travelling to the various factories and small producers had meant that her schedule was fully packed. Choosing the fabrics and designs alone was time-consuming, and she had by now fifteen women sewing and making the cushions. She was not exactly working twenty-four seven, but close. The past two years had been made easier because their daughter Amy had started at a weekly boarding school in Berkshire. Lena or Marcus would collect her from the school mid-morning on the Saturday, so she would be home for the weekend and returned before seven o’clock on the Sunday evening.

Lena did try not to work on the Sunday, but often Amy had friends to see and parties to attend, so she was not as dependent on being amused, especially now that she was fifteen and increasingly self-sufficient. Lena used the time to check over her accounts and sales orders. She had even stopped making the obligatory Sunday roast – it had always been just the three of them around the kitchen table, but since Marcus had left, and with Amy having alternative arrangements, she would mostly have a BLT and a cup of coffee. There had been a minor emotional upheaval when they had told Amy about the so-called trial separation. She had cried for a few days but calmed down after both assured her that they were still to be friends and she could, if she wished, spend alternate weekends with her father in Mayfair.

When divorce was eventually discussed, Amy had grown used to her parents being apart. She had begun to quite enjoy the freedom of choosing whether or not she spent the weekend with her mother or her father. There had also been numerous times when Amy had actually stayed with a friend so had not been at home with either parent.

The house in Richmond for just herself and Amy was large, and did require a lot of maintenance, but as Lena had paid for the mortgage from the moment they had bought it shortly after they were married, it had never occurred to her that she would be forced to sell. She had also furnished it, and it was very much her style throughout. Marcus had never taken much interest in decorating, or for that matter, what furniture Lena collected, and since they separated she was happy to remain living there; she even redecorated the kitchen and the master bedroom. Amy had kept her bedroom as it was, and she had rarely if ever brought up the fact that her father was absent. He obviously was, but then if Amy were not at his rented flat, but at home with her mother, he would call, so he was a constant and regular part of her life.

Lena had begun to really see the benefits of her new business, and financially she felt more secure than she had been when Marcus departed. It took a while for her to begin to enjoy having extra cash to spend on new clothes for herself and Amy, but they had done some serious damage on a couple of trips to Chelsea on Saturday shopping extravaganzas. Working hard for so many years she had rarely if ever spent time on herself or her appearance until recently. It was very obviously successful, as the remarks from everyone that evening proved.

A meeting with Marcus had been arranged for Monday morning to discuss their divorce proceedings. Only once had Lena asked her daughter if Marcus was living in the rented flat alone, or if he was with someone, but Amy had been dismissive, saying that she had never met anyone, or seen anyone with her father. She did later mention that she thought someone else had been staying as there had been makeup left in his bathroom, but her father had said that it belonged to a friend of the guy he was renting the flat from.

Lena never for a moment thought Amy was being evasive, and in some ways she was relieved that there was no new figure in either of their lives. She in fact congratulated herself that, unlike many of their friends, they had succeeded in separating without too much emotional trauma. Amy did appear to have totally accepted the arrangements, and showed no outward signs that she was in any way distressed they no longer all lived together. The family home ran smoothly; the gardeners came and tended the garden every Thursday, the housekeeper came in every day at nine and left at five and always had the weekends off. Lena’s driver, an ex-manager of a small repair garage, was diligent and polite and kept her Lexus immaculate. He also did a lot of maintenance work around the house, when not required to chauffeur Lena to her places of work. Sometimes he had worked weekends on the school collection when Marcus had called to say it was not convenient for him to pick up Amy, and even when Marcus had excused himself as being too busy to have Amy stay for her weekend, it had not caused any rifts. Lena was so organized, if arrangements were changed, she was able to quickly alter her diary. Basically, her entire life was taken up with work, and rarely if ever did she have any kind of life outside her day-to-day schedule. At weekends she would arrange something to do with Amy if she was available, and they would go to a local restaurant and take in a movie together. So her social life was built around her daughter, and her weekdays were concentrated on business. She had not sought any other social activities until this evening, even though she was feeling healthier and looking better than she had for years. She was aware that she would be subjected to prying questions about her separation and whether or not it was just a phase and she and Marcus would be getting back together. He was now to all intents and purposes a single man in his early forties, a very different dinner guest to his rather reclusive ex, who had never had been overeager to gossip, and had little to add to their banter.

Lena had been helped to get her life back on track by her therapist and was now on medication, but it had been many months before she was able face the fact that she needed to make some drastic personal changes. As the business ran smoothly she had begun to take more interest in her appearance. It had not been easy – diet and exercise had dominated what little free time she had – but she made sure to style her hair, and had regular massage sessions at a beauty clinic. She had even had numerous Botox treatments around her brow, eyes and lips. Amy being a weekly boarder at school had given her a lot more free time to focus on herself.

Amy had been due to spend the weekend with her father but had chosen to have a sleepover in Fulham with one of her best friends, Serena, a young girl that Lena did not particularly like, who had in the past stayed at their house in Richmond. As always there had been emails back and forth to verify that Amy would be collected from school by her friend’s parents and returned there on the Sunday evening.

Driving the short distance to her home from the Berkoffs’ gave Lena enough time to calm down. She turned in through the big wrought-iron gates, and didn’t bother going further down the private lane to the large double garage, but parked outside her front door, sitting for a while resting her hands on the steering wheel. Then she took a few deep breaths and slapped the wheel with the flat of her hands.

‘Now just stop this, Lena, you knew what it was going to be like this evening, and you know why you agreed to go, and whether you hated it or not it was proof that you have taken major steps forwards. When Marcus sees you he’ll want you back, that’s what this is about, now admit it, and stop being silly, you have accomplished everything you planned and worked so hard for. When you meet him on Monday he is going to get a big surprise.’

She snatched up her little white evening bag and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut and locking it with a bleep. Everything was going to be all right, she would have all of Sunday to plan exactly what she would wear from her new wardrobe of elegant clothes. She immediately felt better and did a small sashay dance step to the front door, as the security lights came on like a floodlit stage, and she opened her little bag with a flourish to take out her house keys.

It was strange how quickly her mood changed. Suddenly she realized it was the first time since the separation that she had returned to what felt like a very empty house. Maybe she had previously been too busy to notice she was opening her front door to darkness, or perhaps it was the fact she had so rarely been out so late alone. Lena had forgotten to leave lights on in the hall and landing, so it felt even darker than usual. She dropped her handbag on a chair in the hall, switched on the lamps and made her way up to the first-floor landing and the master bedroom. She undressed, chucking her evening clothes onto a chair by her dressing table; she’d hang them up in the morning. She placed anything she wanted washed into the white laundry bags hanging on a knob of one of the long rows of wardrobe doors. Naked, she walked into her en-suite bathroom, cleaned her teeth and removed her makeup with cleansing cream.

Returning to the huge master bedroom she picked up her nightdress that had been left folded on her king-size four-poster. Getting into bed with just a small bedside light switched on, she drew the duvet around herself and reached for the TV remote. The big plasma screen lit up as she nestled down, flicking from channel to channel, but nothing appealed. She switched to a re-run of Law & Order but had already seen it, so she turned off the TV and lay back on her huge pile of frilled white pillows. It was the first time she felt lonely. It was not that she wanted Marcus to be beside her, because she truthfully didn’t, it was more an overpowering feeling of being totally alone. She closed her eyes. There were all the staff she knew so well at all of her successful business ventures, and yet none of them had ever become in any way a friend; none had ever even been invited back to the house.

She left the bedside light on, because she didn’t feel sleepy – in fact, the opposite. Her mind was still buzzing, replaying the entire course of the dinner party: the many compliments she had received on her new slim self, her dress, her hair, even the many implications that she must have found someone to replace Marcus, although the truth was she had not even contemplated a new relationship. She had not even been looking to find a replacement, toy boy or not.

Knowing sleep was refusing to come, she reached up to her bedside cabinet for one of the various bottles of sleeping pills. She opened the top and inched out half of a tablet. She usually used them only when business deals had made her restless. She sipped from the bottle of water on her bedside table and swallowed the Ambien half, then replaced the small plastic container. She had got them years ago, when they had been in the US on a Disney World holiday, and she had been unable to sleep due to the time zone difference. Marcus had in actual fact got them for her. He was in her mind yet again, and now she thought about the meeting scheduled for ten on the Monday morning. He had suggested she find a divorce lawyer as he had felt it was time they confirmed that there was no possibility of them being reunited. She had agreed and engaged Charles Henshaw, a divorce solicitor, to represent her.

Lena had had only one brief phone call and meeting with Mr Henshaw, who was very pleasant and had a quiet unassuming demeanour. He had asked if the divorce was on a friendly footing, and she had said confidently that it was, and doubted there would be any animosity. Henshaw said that a ‘Collaborative Divorce’ meeting with Marcus and his solicitor would be the best way forward so they could reach an amicable agreement without going to court. There was no issue of custody as they had made arrangements for Amy to spend time with each of them. Lena did, however, point out that she paid for her daughter’s education and had been the main breadwinner throughout their entire marriage. Mr Henshaw had enquired about the house and Lena had made it clear that she had maintained the property, and paid the mortgage throughout their marriage, and could see no problems with continuing to live there. Furthermore, at no time had Marcus even brought up altering the living arrangements as it was obviously their daughter’s and her own main home. It was also her main place of work. Henshaw cautioned that it was to be a meeting to discuss how the divorce would proceed, and until they were privy to what Marcus’s wishes were, he advised that she should allow him to broach the subject. To date, he had not been given any more details. The only information he had been able to ascertain was that, like herself, Marcus had acquired a divorce lawyer, a Mr Jacob Lyons, who would also attend the meeting.

The only time she had felt a slight unease was when Henshaw remarked that Lyons was rather a formidable gentleman with quite a reputation, and that he had previously represented rather well-known clients. It had surprised her because that suggested Lyons was not cheap – probably more expensive than Mr Henshaw. She had rather naïvely not given much thought to the fact that her husband would also be represented, but she presumed that Marcus must have been earning enough to hire such a prominent figure. It also dawned on her that she had no idea exactly how Marcus was financing himself, unless one of his ventures had at long last been successful.

Waking later than usual she slipped on her thick woolly rather unattractive dressing gown and went down to the kitchen. She brewed a pot of coffee, made two slices of brown bread toast, buttered and spread them with honey, put them onto a tray, collected her newspapers and returned to bed. She skim-read the Mail on Sunday and The Sunday Times, finished her coffee but hardly touched her toast. It was almost eleven thirty by the time she tried to call Amy on her mobile but it went straight to voicemail. She left a short message to say she hoped she was enjoying her sleepover, sent her hugs and kisses and asked if she would give her a call to say all was well. The rest of the morning she spent having a long leisurely bath and washing her hair. Even though she had not heard back from Amy by early afternoon she was not unduly worried. Heading for her office, she checked her emails, finding none from Amy but a huge number from her business. It took her until almost five to answer them all, sorting out the various collections and deliveries, but finally the paperwork was all in order, the receipts and payments double-checked. Next, she made a list for the grocery shop to be done on Monday by her housekeeper. She made out cheques for the gardeners, and left a memo for them to also clear the guttering as there were a lot of leaves and she was concerned about drainpipes becoming blocked. She was about to close down her computer but hesitated, deciding to Google Jacob Lyons on the internet. Old Mr Henshaw had not specified any of the famous names Lyons had represented, but a quick Google search soon revealed that he was indeed notorious, and an exceptionally tough operator, with millionaire movie stars and rock singers his main clients. He had gained massive maintenance orders and won the unlikeliest of custody battles, and so the press described him as a Rottweiler who never lost a case. She was stunned that Marcus had felt it necessary to hire him, and it was obvious that he was very expensive. It made her feel increasingly uneasy.

Lena opened a bottle of wine; she had still not eaten so she cooked up some eggs and bacon, making another call to Amy as she did so, but her daughter’s mobile yet again went to voicemail. The lack of response was starting to be irritating, but then she reckoned Amy was probably having a good time. She was in two minds whether or not to ring Marcus and ask if he had heard from her, but decided against it.

Lena went through her wardrobe, choosing what to wear for the meeting in the morning. She chose a smart new Jaeger suit, a white silk shirt with bow tie at the neck, and took out her black Louboutin high heels and some fine black ten denier tights. By the time she had hung up everything she was to wear and chosen pearl earrings and a necklace, she was ready to go back to bed. Unusually for her, she broke another sleeping tablet in half and by ten she was almost asleep. The wine had helped – almost three quarters of the bottle of Merlot. She lay there wondering if there was anything else she should have done as she would not be going into work – her appointment was for nine thirty with Henshaw in Mayfair and her driver would collect her at eight thirty to make sure she was on time.

Harry Dunn had arrived earlier than needed as he wanted to valet and wash the Lexus. He remained sitting in the car when it was finished, and at promptly eight thirty Lena walked out of the house. Harry gave her a polite good morning, holding the passenger side door open as she got into the car. She always sat beside him, never in the rear seats unless she was with a business associate.

The offices of Henshaw, Froggat and Co. were in North Audley Street in Mayfair, in a large elegant house on four floors with various other legal companies listed on the brass plate outside. Mr Henshaw was waiting and ushered her into a panelled boardroom. He was immaculately dressed in a pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt and Old Harrovian tie, and appeared the epitome of old-world charm. At just after ten, his secretary tapped on the door to say that Mr Lyons and Mr Marcus Fulford had arrived. Lena was nervous; she had not actually met with Marcus for almost a year, possibly even longer.

Lyons was small, wearing what was probably a very expensive suit, with skinny trousers and five buttons on the jacket, but it looked too tight for him. He had a bright pink shirt, with a matching pink silk tie and heavy gold cufflinks. His hair was slicked back, thinning, and gave his over-large head a gnome-like appearance, and whether or not his suntan was genuine, it had an unattractive orange tinge. This made Lyons’ teeth even more unnaturally white, and he had wet lips that were spread in a wide smile. He greeted Henshaw like an old friend, and then turned to introduce him to Marcus.

Marcus was wearing a navy pinstripe Armani suit she had bought him, but instead of a shirt he had on a white T-shirt, and wore two-toned shoes with no socks and dark glasses. His hair was longer than she remembered, still thick, curly and dark, and his face bore signs of a slight stubble. Handsome as ever, he also gave a wide friendly smile as he was introduced to Henshaw, and then glanced towards Lena.

She wished he had taken the glasses off, as it was obvious that he was taken aback by her new image, and she would have liked to see the expression in his eyes.

‘You look well, Lena, better than ever.’

‘Thank you.’

She was introduced to Lyons, who gave her a wet handshake, not even looking at her as he chose which chair to sit in, and then gestured for Marcus to sit beside him, both of them across the large mahogany boardroom table. Lyons snapped open a brown leather briefcase, took out some paperwork and a notebook which he laid on the table. He removed a gold pen from his inside jacket pocket, unscrewed it and set it beside his notebook.

‘Right, let’s get down to business, shall we?’

Marcus turned his chair so he didn’t have to look directly at Lena, who now had the opportunity to take a good look at her soon-to-be ex-husband. He seemed if anything to be enjoying the situation, leaning back, crossing his legs, over-relaxed, and why the dark glasses? She thought it was silly, as if he was playing at being a rock star.

What happened next left Lena in a state of distress. First Lyons suggested he start off the meeting and not waste time on pleasantries.

‘Now you must be aware, my friend, that my client is in a dire financial situation, and heavily in debt, and as such he will require substantial alimony to be paid, since his wife, as you, my friend, must be more than aware, is a very successful businesswoman.’

Lena could hardly believe how Lyons continued, saying that he had done a discreet valuation on her house, it was worth in the region of four million pounds and Marcus wanted it to be sold and the profit split equally between them. Lyons went on to inform them that Marcus had listed, as best he could recall, the furniture and items from the property, which should also be divided between them, as he would soon need to purchase and furnish a flat.

‘My client is currently renting a property but only for a short while longer and will need two-bedroom accommodation for himself and his daughter. He has made it very clear that Mrs Fulford has been the main breadwinner but he has always been encouraging and helpful in her business and he feels it is only fair to have a fifty-per-cent share of all her companies, along with alimony payments to enable him to live in the style he was accustomed to. Again my client wants it made very clear that caring for his daughter is his paramount concern.’

Lena was having palpitations, catching her breath and sipping her water. Henshaw had not as yet uttered one word. She glanced towards him angrily and was about to say something when he gestured for her to remain silent. Lyons flicked over several pages in his notebook and then tapped with his nasty manicured fingers what appeared to be a list and sums written in black felt tip pen. He looked through his paperwork, removing some printed sheets that were stapled together and rudely slid them across the table to Lena and Mr Henshaw.

‘My client has obtained an up-to-date detailed list of Mrs Fulford’s business and private bank accounts, as well as her projected earnings for the next financial year, which as you can see, Mr Henshaw, are substantial.’

Lena gripped her fingers tightly, watching as Henshaw flicked through the copies of her bank accounts. It was unbelievable – Marcus had somehow got his hands on all her personal details, not only of her savings, but all her different projects and they were so up-to-date she hardly knew the amounts herself. She wanted to get up and slap her husband’s gloating face, sitting across from her smirking as if he expected praise for obtaining her private information.

Henshaw gave a light cough. ‘You originally agreed to a Collaborative Divorce meeting between our clients, Mr Lyons, so an amicable settlement could be reached. I am not prepared to discuss your requests at the present time, and I will need to have a consultation with Mrs Fulford before we agree to any of Mr Fulford’s demands.’

‘By all means, but it is very obvious that the marriage was in difficulties for a considerable time,’ Lyons observed loftily. ‘Mrs Fulford left her husband with no other alternative than to leave the marital home. Admittedly that was some time ago, but he has had time to reflect and realizes that reconciliation is no longer an option. It is a very emotional decision for his own wellbeing as Mrs Fulford put her work and ambition before any attempt to show she desired the marriage to continue.’

Lyons flicked his notebook closed and shrugged. He opened his nasty little briefcase and replaced his paperwork and notebook and then gave a cool look towards Lena.

‘Kind of a reversal of fortunes, is it not, Mrs Fulford – it’s usually the wife who makes claims on her husband’s earnings and estate. However in this instance it is quite obvious that you, as a successful businesswoman, will be made an example. No discrimination meant due to you being a woman, but I think my client has asked for only what is fair and his right as your husband of seventeen years.’

Lena simply sat there as Lyons and Marcus did more handshaking before leaving. As the door closed behind them she wanted to scream. How dare he claim that he had always been encouraging and helpful? He had done nothing, everything had always been down to her. She drank the remains of her water and placed the glass down, her hand shaking. He was divorcing Lena claiming that it was due to her unreasonable behaviour, that she had placed too much effort and energy into her work and career and added to that it appeared she had not acted quickly enough because Marcus had put in his divorce petition first.

‘What if I refuse to give him a divorce? I don’t care if it never goes to court.’ She got the words out with difficulty.

‘I’m afraid the divorce proceedings are already in motion, and to be honest even without a divorce your husband can still claim to be given financial security,’ Henshaw replied. ‘You can counter-claim but quite frankly it really does not make any difference because it does appear that the marriage has broken down irretrievably.’

She was tight-lipped with anger. ‘You tell me why a fully able-bodied man can have the audacity to want me to pay alimony. Why doesn’t he get a job? I refuse to pay him anything, and I am not going to sell the house. He can sue me and if he thinks he is going to get a percentage of my companies, he can go to hell. It just is so unfair, he was the one that walked out for his so-called trial separation, it was not my suggestion but from what I can gather I have to be the guilty one and made to pay out to him.’

Henshaw allowed her to rant on, until she burst into tears.

‘He left me, I didn’t leave him, and it’s disgusting,’ she said through her sobs.

Henshaw passed her a box of tissues and she plucked one out and blew her nose. He held up the copy of her accounts Lyons had given him.

‘These could have been printed off anywhere from downloaded files and impossible to trace back to a particular printer. Is there someone in your business that would have given him access to all your company accounts?’

She sighed and shook her head. As Marcus had nothing to do with her work, it was unlikely he had ever had more than a fleeting conversation with the staff she employed. The older women that did the sewing were in the country and hardly ever came to London. She couldn’t think how he had obtained such recent figures; some of the future earnings she hadn’t even calculated herself.

‘I don’t how he knew so much about Kiddy Winks – my God, I’ve only just got it running smoothly. He was never interested in any of my business ventures when we were together, not one iota, he never helped me in any way at all. I don’t know how he has got all those details.’

Henshaw sighed and gave a quick glance at his wristwatch. ‘Well somebody has evidently had access. Obviously he had access to your joint bank accounts, but the copies of your business account statements are as recent as last month.’

‘Maybe Marcus or Lyons hired one of those professional hackers,’ Lena suggested.

‘Possible, but very risky for Lyons as a respected divorce lawyer. I’m sorry to say it would appear somebody close to you is untrustworthy. That said, it would eventually have been necessary to divulge that information to Mr Lyons. You see, you may decline to give him a divorce, but the reality is after a separation of two years your husband can be granted one without you agreeing. He simply files for a divorce on the grounds your marriage has broken down irreparably.’

‘Christ, you sound as if you are on his side,’ she snapped.

‘Absolutely not, Mrs Fulford, and I will endeavour to find the best solution to your predicament as is possible. I will in the interim require you to give me your own estimation of the value of your property and also the value of its contents.’

‘He’s not getting so much as a stick of furniture. I bought the lot. He never paid for anything.’

‘Nevertheless, I am afraid he is entitled to-’

She snatched up her handbag. ‘I don’t think you heard me, I used the inheritance from my grandparents to put the deposit on that house, and to help start up my business. None of it came from him and I am not giving him a cent, and he can drag me through whatever court he wants because I am not prepared to prop that loser up as I have done for the past seventeen years.’

Henshaw didn’t attempt to stop her as she swept out, banging the door behind her. He had seen it all before, though as Lyons had said it was usually the husband who screamed about being used and refusing to pay up. Lena Fulford had a sizable amount of wealth, albeit hard-earned, and from what he had learned her husband had not been very successful – in fact, to the contrary. However, seventeen years was a long marriage, they had a daughter together and somewhere at some point there had to have been positive times. He sighed and checked his watch. His next appointment was due in half an hour; in the meantime he would look through the copies of Mrs Fulford’s earnings left by Lyons in the hope that he might be able to persuade her to make a deal with her husband for a one-off payment, no strings attached. He would leave it for a few days for her to cool down. As he plucked a tissue from the box and picked up her empty glass left on the table, he reflected that people’s marriages never ceased to amaze him; she was such an attractive woman, beautifully dressed, very classy, unlike her husband. He had to admit Marcus Fulford was a good-looking man, but there was something seedy about him, and to have worn the dark sunglasses throughout the meeting proved to Henshaw that he was probably afraid to look his wife in the eyes. Maybe that was at the root of their marital problem – he was scared of her, or perhaps he had been in awe to begin with and it had gradually been chipped away by his own failures. At some point he had gained enough strength to walk out.

Henshaw, a wily old man, guessed there would be another woman at the root of it, but neither had brought up a third party as a reason for the divorce. A weak man like Marcus Fulford, he was certain, had someone, and it had to be someone very close to Lena to have passed on such personal details. Gone were the days of extramarital affairs affecting the results of divorce proceedings – they no longer had any bearing on the outcome. It was now immaterial whether one’s spouse had been unfaithful; all the court needed was evidence of the breakdown of the marriage. It had been so much easier in those days!