Twinkle Twinkle Little Lie

by Geraldine Fonteroy

  ‘Not that long. It only takes couple of hours.’

  With the preliminaries finally sorted, and a date – correction – meeting with David Henry-Jones just hours away, Julia needed a drink, badly.

  ‘Surely there is some champers left?’

  Connie shook her head. ‘Prosecco. Mr Rover took rest of Bollinger to have it off with his assistant in limo on way to the airport.’

  Julia frowned. ‘Ugh. The thought of that foul creature humping my husband is not something I wish to dwell on. Prosecco is better anyway. More class, don’t you think?’

  Connie called from the kitchen. ‘You want some peach juice too?’

  ‘Yes, Bellinis. Good idea. You have one too.’ Moments later the drinks were in their hands. ‘Let’s shake on our deal, shall we?’ Julia said, happy not to be alone in her plight – even if her companion was a slightly stupid girl who couldn’t be entirely trusted.

  And as the two women shook on the deal, Julia didn’t hear the quiet click, click, click of a camera with a long range lens, documenting their celebrations.

  Later, as she slowly stacked the dishwasher with the dishes from the omelette she’d made for dinner and the two champagne glasses, Connie couldn’t help but feel a great deal of joy at the bargain she had made with Mr Rover and now, with Mrs Palmie. Whatever happened, Connie was going to be a very rich woman. Deep down, she hoped that Mr Rover won – it was less money, to be sure, but money wasn’t everything. There was also the satisfaction that came with seeing the downfall of the most obnoxious woman who had ever been born. That’s why she was taking photos. Photos were good proof in court – Mr Rover said so. And the fact that Connie would have a front row seat to the humiliation made it all the more exciting to be part of.

  However, this lawyer plan of Mrs Palmie’s was interesting too, and Connie decided she wouldn’t betray the woman to Mr Rover just yet. Anyway, it wouldn’t really help Mr Rover to know Mrs Palmie was hiring a top lawyer. He’d find out soon enough. No, Mrs Palmie would benefit far more from knowing what Connie had on Mr Rover. Not that she planned to say. Yet.

  Hmm. Perhaps Connie might just switch her alliance.

  Only time, and yes, possibly money, would tell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘BUT THE APPOINTMENT WAS for three p.m.!’ Julia pouted at the snooty receptionist, who definitely needed a new hair colourist, unless grey roots had suddenly become fashionable overnight. Lia had obviously forgotten to mention who the appointment was for when she’d rung to beg for a booking – if this pathetic cow knew who she was, she’d be jumping to attention.

  ‘Well, he is in court, madam.’

  ‘What for, he isn’t a barrister? Solicitors don’t go to court. They stay at their desks, counting their money; pressing their stop clocks.’

  The woman shot Julia a look that said that discussing such things in a very posh City firm was unthinkable. Julia couldn’t care less. When it came to etiquette at home, she was a stickler. But when it came to spending her hard earned cash – and boy, Hettie was making her earn it with umpteen phone calls already – she was far less picky about getting to the heart of things.

  ‘I don’t suppose he is planning to make an appearance anytime this evening?’

  ‘He hasn’t cancelled you, so I suppose you can wait. Court closes at five, he’ll probably be here soon after that.’

  That’s two hours away. I don’t wait that long for Hercule my hairstylist – and he does royalty.

  Julia marched around the side of the reception desk, and the grey-haired bitch pulled back in shock.

  ‘What are you doing? I’ll call the police!’

  ‘I only want you to call David Henry-Jones. Tell him it’s Julia Parmier and that I need him, urgently. We are old friends, he’ll understand. No police necessary.’

  At the words ‘old friends’ the woman began breathing normally again. ‘Oh, you know David personally?’

  ‘We go way back.’ Well, technically, they’d met only once at Lia’s housewarming, but that counted, didn’t it? If Julia recalled correctly, one of the Henry-Joneses had tried to grope her butt. That was more than bloody personal.

  Pressing a button that was obviously on a speed dial, a deep voice was soon booming through the switchboard loudspeaker.

  ‘What is it, Cathy? I’m outside court. We’re just waiting for a decision.’

  ‘There’s a lady here, says she has an appointment.’

  ‘Ah, right. Well, please tell her I might be a little late. She can see one of the other partners, if she likes. It’s just an initial enquiry.’

  Julia pushed Cathy the Grey out of the way. ‘David, darling, it’s me, Julia. You know, Rover’s wife.’

  ‘Rover? Rover? Oh, yes. How is the old chap?’ The voice sounded strained and distracted.

  ‘A total prick who is trying to screw me on a divorce. That’s why I need you. The grapevine led me here – you’re the most feared divorce lawyer in town, apparently.’

  And if not, you’re probably the hottest.

  ‘Look, Jules–‘

  ‘Julia.’

  ‘Right, well, I will be back as soon as I can, but I’m not sure if I am the person to help you. Rover and I go way back.’

  Yeah. So far back you can hardly remember him. ‘Rover is bonking some dwarf slut in New York.’

  ‘New York? So we’re talking a whole different jurisdiction as well? I take it you qualify for a divorce? Been separated for the right amount of time and all that?’

  Shit. What did that exactly mean? ‘He left me! That’s why I called you.’

  ‘And what are the grounds?’

  ‘Hah?’

  ‘You need to show the marriage has broken down irrevocably by claiming certain grounds – adultery; unreasonable behaviour; or you’ve been separated for two years. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Obviously the first two. It’s unreasonable to run off to New York with a midget slag and abandon me, isn’t it?’

  ‘Erm, yes. Of course.’

  There was a general sense of agitation on the other end of the line. Julia guessed she was losing him. Time to try and turn friend against friend. She didn’t have time to find another decent lawyer now. Hettie was due at her place tomorrow – and she’d want some advice in return for that cheque. Julia had to get some before then – any way she could. ‘Rover always said you were the timid one of the Henry-Jones boys. Said you might be gay. I never believed it, but . . .’

  He bit. ‘Timid? I lost one case for him years ago because he compromised himself on the stand and somehow it’s because I’m timid? I always knew he held that loss against me.’

  ‘And I don’t suppose you’re gay, either?’

  ‘I’m not in a relationship. That doesn’t make me gay.’

  Wow. A lucky stab in the dark pays off! She compounded the lie. ‘Rover said he’d told numerous people to steer clear of you. Of course, I didn’t know you then, other than to say a brief hi to at Lia’s house.’

  ‘I can’t believe he’d do that. We boarded together at public school. How dare he?’

  ‘Rover is a total bastard. That’s how.’

  ‘I should sue him for defamation. I had to leave that firm because I couldn’t seem to get any further up the ladder. They kept overlooking me for promotion.’

  ‘Terrible.’

  ‘Abominable.’

  ‘So, you’ll help me?’

  A long pause. ‘Maybe. I’ll think about it. Wait for me. I’ll be back as soon as I get out of court. We’ve just been called back in now.’

  It took longer than expected, and after a while, seemingly hundreds of lawyers and short-skirted receptionists began leaving the building on mass. Finally, Cathy the Grey gave up as well.

  ‘He shouldn’t be long.’ It was only the fiftieth time she’d bleated those words, and Julia felt the knot in her stomach tighten. It was easy to forget, in amongst trying to fool Hettie into paying her legal bills, that Rover had forsaken her and run off to some New
York City lair with his assistant cum prostitute. She imagined them now, right now, having lunch in a trendy diner in Greenwich Village, tittering at how they’d outsmarted her; left her with no money to contest the paltry settlement of the house and nothing else.

  Well, Rover, fate was about to come calling. Just as she had that thought, the lift pinged and the doors swung open to reveal a dapper man, mid to late forties, wearing a beige overcoat with velvet lapels and a trendy, greying up-do that George Clooney would be proud of.

  The moment that Julia absorbed the image of the successful lawyer about town, and remembered Lia saying that David Henry-Jones was not so recently divorced, she decided that he would be hers. Sure, it was soon, but Julia couldn’t stand the thought of being single. Single was for losers, such as that Hettie person. Not for middle-aged women who looked almost thirty in the dark.

  ‘Hello, did you hear me?’

  Christ. He was standing in front of her, looking down, a querying smile on his lips. Hmm. Winning his affections wasn’t going to be an easy task, if he wasn’t showing signs of attraction at the outset.

  ‘Mrs Parmier?’

  ‘Julia, please.’

  They shook hands, and Julia felt a little shiver race from the back of her neck down to the small of her back. David led the way to his office. It was huge, with a disproportionately small desk in one corner, and a tiny leather Chesterfield in the other.

  ‘This is . . .’

  He threw his pricey looking coat on a rack by the door. ‘Under furnished, I know.’ Another smile, this one more genuine. ‘I can’t stand clutter, but we’ve recently moved offices, and I didn’t expect to be put somewhere so large.’

  ‘A large office isn’t a bad thing,’ Julia observed.

  Large, in all things, was good, as far as she was concerned.

  Indicating she should sit, he took out an A5 pad and picked up his pen. ‘Let’s begin, shall we? First things first. I can’t be seen to be acting against Rover, despite the fact he is a total prat. For a start, he was a client of mine, although I was at another firm. So I will get Suzanne Knight, one of the junior associates, to put her name to what I do. This might slightly increase your costs, however.’

  Relieved that he’d agreed to help, and gesturing that the money wasn’t a problem, Julia passed over the letter from Rover’s lawyer – the one that said that she stood to lose everything should the offer be contested.

  ‘How much is the house worth, do you think?’ David asked.

  ‘About seven million, I suppose. I haven’t had it valued, but Lia reckons it’s around that.’

  ‘And what about Rover’s assets?’

  ‘He once said they were around eighty million. Worldwide.’

  ‘Can you catalogue them?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ll try.’

  ‘How long were you married?’

  ‘Fifteen years.’

  Holding his pen mid sentence, David Henry-Jones’ blue eyes surveyed her own green ones. ‘And you don’t think you can live on seven million pounds?’

  ‘I’d have to sell the house, which I don’t want to do. And why should I? It’s my home. He left me, not the other way around. The man hasn’t left me a penny. He left the car, and a fuel card that he forgot to cancel, and that’s it. If I want to eat, I have to buy my food at the nearest garage.’

  ‘Sometimes, we have to make comprises. Even with the low interest rates at the moment, you could have a substantial income if you invested a few million pounds. After buying a large home or flat in central London.’

  ‘I like my large home, and I don’t want to live in a flat. I couldn’t buy another house in South Kensington and I am not moving to somewhere revolting down the road.’

  ‘There are surely smaller houses you might afford in South Kensington?’

  Julia didn’t like the negative attitude. ‘I am his wife, am I not entitled to half?’

  ‘Technically, but only on what he made whilst you were married. Plus, we’d need to try and prove where and what his assets are. All of that costs a lot of money. That’s why I feel I should advise you to take the settlement offered.’

  Affronted, Julia stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘Are you working for him? Is that it? Isn’t that against some sort of lawyer code? Why is it unacceptable that I wish to have some support so that I can continue to live in my home? After all, I didn’t betray him. I was completely faithful. He ran off with a nasty little mutant from his office, and now, I am paying the price. How is that fair?’

  Unable to help herself, and exhausted with the machinations of the past few days, Julia burst into noisy sobs, a la Hettie.

  Stop it! You’re humiliating yourself!

  But try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

  And then David Henry-Jones was standing over her, offering her a box of tissues.

  What was that aftershave. Probably not Lynx but it certainly had the same ‘effect’.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I was only thinking of you. Courts and adversarial actions in cases such as yours can run up very large bills, and often it doesn’t make financial sense to pursue them. You’ve indicated that money is tight, so . . .’

  ‘Maybe you could talk to him? Make him see that he needs to at least offer me something to live on?’ As soon as she said it, Julia realised it was the wrong tactic. In order to help Hettie, who did want half of the miserly Kevin’s fortune, she needed to ask for the some for herself.

  ‘How much do you want?’

  In spite of the upset, Julia was startled by the sincerity in his eyes. They’re fully blue, not part grey, as I’d thought. God, he was yummy.

  Julia quickly dried her tears. The moment of insanity had passed, helped along by the dull thud of attraction in her gut. ‘Half, I told you.’

  ‘But you just said . . .’

  ‘That’s how much I need to live on.’

  ‘Forty million is far more than you need to live on.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?’ Julia looked up at David, titling her head in a manner she hoped was attractive.

  He caved. ‘All right. If you want to go for half, that’s what I’ll do. But it will cost you – don’t say you weren’t warned.’

  ‘Half much?’

  ‘Ten grand, as down payment. You’ll need to top up the account as we go along. Dare I ask where you’ll be getting the money from? You do understand we can’t support your case for you?’

  Actually, on further examination, his eyes were partly grey. Like ice. Still nice.

  She squirmed, telling her nether regions to behave. ‘A friend has kindly agreed to loan me the money.’ It was almost the truth. Okay, not really, but Julia knew that Hettie would be better off once they’d stripped Kevin of his fortune, so what was the difference?

  David walked to the door and flung it open. ‘Right, well, I’ll send you the paperwork, contact Rover’s lawyer via Suzanne Knight and see what’s what, and we’ll go from there.’

  Remember Hettie. You’ve got work to do, too.

  ‘Um, what do you mean, contact Rover?’

  ‘We’ll write to him and advise that you won’t be accepting his offer of settlement and that you are going to ask a court for a proper settlement, in view of your lengthy marriage and unnerving commitment.’

  ‘What about the separation thing? Do I need to wait two years or something?’

  ‘As I said, not if you have grounds. Him running off to another country with another woman should do it.’

  Excellent.

  ‘And what do you think he’ll say?’

  David Henry-Jones laughed. ‘I couldn’t possible imagine, but it won’t be something a lovely lady such as yourself should hear.’

  As Julia floated out of the lift and into her Mercedes, which was parked in one of the partner’s parking bays (which she knew thanks to the rude note attached to the right wiper blade), she held onto those words.

  ‘A lady, he thinks I am a lady.’

&n
bsp; Of course, the words she should have heard were the ones indicating Rover would fiercely contest any claim on his fortune. But since the age of sixteen, when she’d grown breasts and had her teeth fixed, Julia had never lost at anything, and she didn’t imagine losing now.

  Not the case.

  And not the man.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LIA PICKED UP THE phone on the first ring. ‘I’ve just sold a four bedder for twenty-three mill’. Can you believe it? We are definitely going to the Bahamas again this year.’

  Some friend. Rub it in, why don’t you?

  ‘So glad you are calling out of concern for my welfare. I can’t afford to eat, and you are boasting about a luxurious holiday.’ Julia sat back in her plush living room sofa and observed the artwork on the walls. Shame she’d never been able to convince Rover to buy a Picasso or something. Art was raging hot in the sale rooms right now.

  Lia’s tone changed. ‘Oops, sorry. So tell me, what did David say?’

  ‘He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘He said he was gorgeous?’

  Julia sniffed. ‘No, he said he’ll help, for an extortionate fee. But he is a honey. I always thought it was the other Henry-Jones who was fit. I think I got them mixed up.’

  ‘The other Henry-Jones is fit. David just took longer to grow into his looks. He used to have this horrible foppish hair-do–‘

  ‘He still does.’

  ‘And you like that?’

  ‘As you said, it grows on you. I’ve decided he is going to be husband Number Two.’

  ‘Julia! Number One has only been gone less than a week.’

  ‘So, it’s not like Rover died, is it? There is no mourning period required for a marriage break-up. After all, he’s not mourning, is he?’

  ‘Moaning, more like.’

  ‘Exactly!’

  Lia paused, and then asked if Julia had heard from Rover.

  ‘Bastard! No. He leaves after years of marriage and not a word. I’ve tried calling his mobile, but it says it’s no longer connected. I get the awful feeling that he has been planning this for a while. I should have guessed – we hadn’t had sex for over two months and we’d never gone that long. Not even when Rover had that operation on his bendy dick.’