Twinkle Twinkle Little Lie

by Geraldine Fonteroy

  ‘There is thing come for you, Mrs Palmie.’

  Julia couldn’t be bothered correcting her. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Papers. From Mr Rover.’

  Christ. She really hated it when Connie called her husband that; made him sound like a brand of vacuum cleaner or something.

  Julia got out of the pool, conscious of Connie staring at her new breasts. Stupid woman should look away, instead of ogling her like she was on display in Amsterdam. Staff today have no idea. ‘Why didn’t he just give them to me later, when he gets home?’

  ‘He says he not coming. Says you read and you know then.’

  Sighing, Julia snapped her fingers, indicating that Connie should get a towel. The maid stared at her blankly. ‘A towel, please Connie.’

  As the woman shuffled away, Julia pondered the news. What was Rover up to now? Probably some huge deal that required her to get on a plane and head to the Bahamas to help him entertain. Smiling, she ran her mind around some recent purchases from Harvey Nichols. At least she had the latest swimwear on hand. Once the towel was presented, Julia began to climb the four flights of stairs to her room, instructing Connie to bring the papers.

  A few minutes later, the towel had fallen, and Julia was sitting naked on the marital bed, hands tightly gripping the white sheets of A4. The pages were resplendent with the logo of one of London’s top legal firms and broadcast the very unsavoury fact that Mr Rover Parmier desired to divorce his wife. Immediately.

  No. It wasn’t possible.

  Skimming the information, Julia quickly discovered the settlement offered was paltry and offensive. The house? That was it? He had to be kidding!

  Worse, the offer was contingent on her accepting it. If she refused, all bets were off and they would have to fight it out in court. Which, the smarmy solicitor pointed out, might be problematic because Mr Parmier would insist on keeping all property and accounts in his name until the matter was settled.

  Bastard!

  Forcing herself to keep reading, it got worse still. If she chose to contest the offered settlement, proceedings would be required to be undertaken in Mr Parmier’s local jurisdiction, which as of that very day, happened to be New York City, N.Y., U.S.A.

  Pulling on her Lauren by Ralph Lauren robe, Julia stormed down to the kitchen and snatched up a bottle of vodka. Pouring herself a large glass, she downed it in silence. Connie appeared.

  Didn’t she have something better to do? ‘Are you stalking me?’

  ‘What is stalking?’

  Shit. ‘Just squeeze me some juice. Orange and apple. Throw some ginger in.’ Once it was made, Julia planned to top it up with the remainder of the bottle of spirit.

  Bloody, bloody Rover. How dare he try to cut her off without a penny? Julia hadn’t clawed her way out of that scummy little village up north to end up on the wrong side of forty without a decent income and home. As she fumed, she decided it would be foolish to accept anything less than half Rover’s fortune. How she’d manage it – without funds and a suitable shark of a solicitor – was another matter, but it wasn’t right to allow Rover to simply walk all over her.

  Think, Julia, think. And it didn’t take long for a solution to present itself. Her best friend Lia Higgson was married to a lawyer – and wasn’t Hugo a partner? If not, he was high up enough in the firm to offer a little free help to an old mate, wasn’t he?

  Sending Lia a text and arranging a lunch meeting at their usual City café, located around the corner from Lia’s office, Julia finally lay back on the massive king-sized bed and pondered her fate.

  Recalling all those lovey dovey moments where the would-be aristocrat had professed undying love, Julia boiled and fumed. Ungrateful prick. Once she’d obtained what was rightfully hers, she would concentrate on dealing with his betrayal – northern-style.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I NEED YOU TO do me a favour.’

  Julia’s oldest friend Amelia Higgson nee Christian sighed, loudly enough for a couple of ancient secretaries to turn around and shake their heads in disgust. Even the perpetually disinterested girl behind the counter in the tiny City café looked over, interest piqued.

  ‘Shhhh!’ Julia told Lia to keep her voice down. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her business.

  Ignoring her, Lia sighed again. ‘I told you before, I am not going to some horrendous singles’ night with you, because neither of us is single.’

  ‘It’s not about that, even though, well, I will be single soon.’ Julia took a deep breath. ‘Rover served divorce papers on me.’

  ‘What?’ Lia’s eyes were huge.

  ‘I know, can you believe it?’

  Lia’s over-made up eyes were opened wide. With her curly blonde hair, and heavily rouged cheeks, she was reminiscent of one of those porcelain dolls. ‘I never saw that coming. He adores you. Bought you half of Tiffany’s on Fifth Avenue last Christmas, didn’t he?’

  ‘Apparently, that was a mistake and he now hates me. Moved out yesterday without saying a word, and the next thing I know he is serving papers on me from, can you believe it, New York. Apparently, he lives there now. Probably shacked up with a girl from the jewellery store.’

  ‘Divorcing you from New York? Can he do that? Shouldn’t he stay here and fight like a man on British soil?’

  You’d think.

  Julia longed for a gin and tonic or anything that had therapeutic and mind-numbing effects, but the best the café could do was a double shot macchiato. Nodding at the café girl, she ordered one. ‘I don’t bloody know, do I? But I need a lawyer and I can’t afford one because all my accounts are frozen. Not even my credit card works. Which is where you come in.’

  Lia held up an overly bejewelled hand. ‘Fine, I’ll pay for lunch.’

  ‘Not that, I was talking about lawyers, remember. But the lunch would be greatly appreciated, too.

  Her friend’s brow creased into its regular worry frown.

  ‘But I can’t afford to pay legal bills.’

  ‘No, but you are in a position to offer pro bono services, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m not a lawyer, Julia.’

  ‘But your husband is.’

  ‘Are you forgetting he is also Rover’s best friend? I can’t see Hugo representing you or even stumping up for your legal costs if the opponent is his best boarding school buddy.’

  ‘Do you need to say it’s for me? He does run an awfully big firm.’

  ‘He is a partner, which is a totally different thing, and it won’t fly. He’ll say no.’

  ‘But bloody Rover has left me without a penny. How can I fight a legal battle for half his squillions without any cash whatsoever?’

  Face flooded with concern, Lia waved the words away. ‘Um, how are you going to eat? That’s probably a more sensible question.’

  ‘I hardly never eat, Lia. How do you think I maintain my size zero?’

  ‘You told me you had a quick metabolism.’ Lia shifted self-consciously in her chair. She was a size 12 and didn’t wear it well. Julia looked over her friend’s rather shambolic earring selection and mud-coloured suit. It was perplexing that she, Julia, was the one to be divorced. Especially considering the new boobs.

  ‘I lied. Look, can you at least ask him if there is any legal aid or something?’

  ‘I can tell you now, if you are still living in that seven million pound house on Queen Mary Mews, the answer is no.’

  ‘I am, but that’s all I’ve got.’

  ‘He gave you the house?’

  ‘Says it’s enough. But the bugger is worth at least eighty million, and I want half. How the hell can I pay for anything without an income?’

  ‘You could sell the house, invest the money and live off that?’

  ‘Live where? And don’t say Shepherd’s Bush, because I simply can’t deal with your silly jokes right now.’

  ‘Shepherd’s Bush is on the up. Buying there would be shrewd.’

  Amelia had instantaneously morphed from friend to agent with
out realising it. ‘Let me guess, you’ve got a nice little two-up, two-down bordering a gruesome council estate that’s just come on the market?’

  ‘Now that you mention it . . .’

  ‘Lia! This is serious. I am broke and soon to be divorced. I know I look far younger than my forty-something years, but at my age this sort of stress is going to induce wrinkles in places I don’t even want to mention. I need a lawyer.’

  Suddenly, Julia remembered her promise to the feckless Hettie from Harrow. ‘In fact, I need two lawyers.’

  ‘Isn’t that just greedy?’

  ‘Ha-di-ha. No, I met this dreadful little woman yesterday with more problems than, well I. We couldn’t be more dissimilar, except for the fact that it appears we are now being divorced by equally grotesque, wealthy men who are determined to screw us.’

  Having called over a couple of cupcakes, Lia snatched the chocolate one up as soon as it hit the table. ‘Well, technically, they don’t want to screw you at all . . .’

  ‘Will you be bloody serious, Lia?’ Julia said again. ‘Honestly, you wait until it happens to you.’

  ‘Oh, it won’t.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Because my darling husband Hugo has a nasty little secret that he can’t afford for me to reveal.’

  ‘I thought you loved him.’

  ‘I adore him, but it doesn’t mean I can trust him. The older we get, the shakier the bed in which we shag becomes.’

  You don’t need to rub it in, even with that rubbish metaphor. ‘So, are you going to tell me this secret, then?’

  Lia shook her head. ‘No way. Sorry, but I need to keep this to myself.’

  Disappointed, Julia brought the conversation back to finding a lawyer. ‘As riveting as your blackmail plot sounds, I need something of a different nature to get myself out of this mess.’

  ‘You need to be separated for two years to get a divorce. So if you don’t take up Rover’s offer, you might find yourself living in a hostel or something.’

  Julia put her delicately manicured fingers over her ears. ‘Don’t even suggest that. I will handcuff myself to some water pipes or something before that happens.’

  ‘Shame you can’t do a bogof!’ Lia grinned. ‘Team up with your friend on a buy-one-get-one-free-deal!’

  Just as her idiot friend spoke, a delicious thought occurred to Julia Parmier. Outstanding. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? ‘Wait a minute! You might have something. There might be a way to get a top lawyer without paying for him or her.’

  ‘Julia, you wouldn’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sleep with a man, or worse, a woman, for legal help.’

  Julia glared at Lia. ‘Do you think this is an episode of Desperate Housewives? No, listen. What about a ‘no-win, no-fee’ firm? They advertise the bloody things on the telly all the time. Surely one of them can help me and I can pay the invoice when I get my share of Rover’s huge bank balance.’

  ‘This isn’t a case of whiplash in a carpark, Julia. This is a huge divorce with international assets and jurisdictional issues. You need someone who knows what they are doing. And that sort of person doesn’t engage in ‘no-win, no-fee’.’

  They sat and pondered for a moment. Julia turned the buy-one get-one principle over in her mind. And then, had a eureka moment. Could it work? Perhaps? I’ll make it work.

  ‘You okay?’ Indicating the plate in front of her, Lia said, ‘Have this cupcake. Build up your strength.’

  ‘No, you have it. Listen, I’ve got it. I’ll be a lawyer.’

  Lia stared as if Julia had suddenly declared she was an alien. ‘Have you totally lost your marbles? You can’t be a lawyer. You’ll lose. And you’ll end up with his costs as well. That house you’re in is a juicy asset that people can pinch from you. Look at it sensibly.’

  ‘No, no. You don’t get it. I will pretend to be a lawyer for that loser woman Hettie, then with the money she gives me, I will get myself a proper lawyer, who will tell me what to do, and how to do it. While the proper lawyer works on my case, I will just copy what he does for Hettie. Two for the price of one. Almost a buy-one, get-one! And the price will be paid by that sad sack from Harrow.’

  Horrified, Lia’s head was shaking as if fitting. ‘No. Absolutely not. How can you even suggest that, Julia? Hasn’t the poor woman been through enough?’

  ‘It’s not like she won’t get proper representation. It will be the real thing, just second hand. What’s wrong with that?’

  Lia had dropped the cake she was scoffing, horror etched on her baby face. ‘What’s wrong with it? Can you hear yourself? Everything is wrong with it, starting with the fact that you will go to jail for impersonating a lawyer.’

  ‘She has to discover that I’m not one first, doesn’t she? And who bothers to check stuff like that?’

  Lia began to speak slowly, over-articulating her words as if Julia was simple. ‘Lots of people, including the lawyers acting for the husband. You will be sprung in seconds.’

  ‘Come on, how many houses do you sell people? Do you check each and every lawyer to make sure they’re registered? Bet you don’t check a single one.’

  ‘That’s different, we aren’t the client. It’s not our money. I imagine the clients check.’

  ‘Well, be assured this Hettie person won’t bother checking.’

  ‘And why are you so sure?’

  ‘She voluntarily lives by a rail track in the arse-end of Harrow.’

  ‘Oh, not on the hill?’

  ‘No. Didn’t you hear me? Next door to the railway station. And she chooses to live there, even though her husband owns a copper mine. What kind of person does that?’ Julia leaned in and tweaked some food off Lia’s nose. ‘A moron, that’s what kind. And morons don’t question people they believe to be solicitors, do they?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Lia said. ‘But who will you ask to be your lawyer, then? And don’t say Hugo again. It’s not going to happen, money or no money.’

  Julia twirled her teaspoon on the table. ‘How about that dishy Robert Henry-Jones?’ she said casually. ‘I’ve always had a thing for those Henry-Jones boys. Is he single again, by any chance?’

  ‘You just got separated!’

  ‘Through no choice of mine. And I don’t want to be forty-something and alone. How will that look? Now, unmarried?’

  ‘No, Robert’s married with three kids and one on the way. Plus, he’s a barrister. I think you need a solicitor first. After all, you don’t want this thing to actually get to court, do you? I mean, you’re not planning to pretend you’re a barrister too, are you?’

  ‘Only if I have to.’ Julia winked at her. ‘What about the brother? Didn’t he do Eversong Lynch’s divorce? Less cute but I’ll take what I can get.’

  ‘Eversong Lynch has squandered every bit of that forty million she got, you know.’

  ‘Rockstar’s aging wife, what do you expect? Not really the point, Lia. It’s not the lawyer’s fault if the client turns out a spendthrift. So, do you think I should ask the brother?’

  ‘David? No, I don’t think you should ask David Henry-Jones to be your divorce lawyer if you plan on paying him with ill-gotten cash from exploiting this Hettie person. David’s a good person. And quite friendly with Hugo.’

  ‘I can’t see the harm, really I can’t. Just don’t you go mentioning it to Hugo.’

  ‘Julia, think about this properly. How long do you think you’ll get for impersonating a lawyer?’

  The girl serving at the counter announced that they were closing soon.

  Stupid City cafe. Opens at dawn, shuts at dusk.

  Julia waved her away. ‘I don’t know, I’m not a lawyer so I’m not familiar with sentencing guidelines. Look, it’s a two for one deal, that’s all. A proper lawyer will be telling me what to do, and I’ll be telling her. I repeat, what’s wrong with that? Hettie would never find someone of the calibre of Henry David-Jones by herself.’

  ‘It’s David Henry-Jone
s, remember? And loads of harm can come of it.’

  ‘Lia, seriously. What’s the worst than can happen? I can’t get struck off some legal list, can I? That’s what usually happens to dodgy lawyers. And I’m not on one.’

  Lia took Julia’s hands. ‘Jail, at a guess. For months if not years. And public humiliation. Plus, what will all your friends say if they find out you actually did a honest day’s work?’

  ‘Well, according to you, it won’t be honest, will it?’ Julia couldn’t help but grin at Lia’s faux pas.

  ‘This will end badly, Julia. If you want to be a canny business woman, faking it as a lawyer isn’t the best way to start.’

  ‘Given my financial situation, it’s the only way to start. Now, are you going to give me that number for the Henry-Jones solicitor, or not?’

  ‘Hadn’t you better see if Hettie will let you represent her, first?’

  Julia bit her lip in mock concentration. ‘Hmm, let me see –no! I don’t need cash for a first meeting with David Henry-Jones.’

  ‘Julia, really! You can’t spend money you don’t have. And he will charge for that meeting. Trust me.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll see Hettie first. Besides, I suppose busy solicitors can’t just drop everything, even for old friends, can they? If Rover left the fuel card in the Mercedes, I’ll have transport. If so, I am sure I can squeeze in a little visit to just south of hell to visit poor, despondent Mrs Kevin Brown.’

  ‘If she’s not despondent now, she soon will be,’ commented Lia dryly as they rose in response to the café girl sweeping violently under their table in a bid to make them move.

  Julia turned to the girl. ‘This is not exactly appropriate customer service, is it?’

  ‘It is if we don’t want certain customers to return,’ the girl replied sharply, shoving the broom into Julia’s ankle.

  In retort, Julia told Lia not to pay a penny for a tip, and finally, they made it out the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN HETTIE BROWN SAID she lived by a railway line, she wasn’t joking. Julia’s Mercedes could barely edge its way up the narrow incline towards the house for the row of railway service vehicles partially blocking the road. Who the hell would live in such a place voluntarily? When she was younger, Julia had looked at a property near South Ken tube station with Rover. Glorious, with three large bedrooms, but to the rear it overlooked the station. Actual train tracks had been visible from at least four of the windows. Julia had been horrified then, and she was equally horrified now, climbing out of the car to find a similar view from Hettie’s front garden. The station, packed with people stomping their feet impatiently at the cold or some delay or other, was laid out just to the left of the white brick house. Well, white was probably too kind a description – the whole place had a scum of grey covering it – pollution from the railway, no doubt.