Twinkle Twinkle Little Lie

by Geraldine Fonteroy

  More laughter and spit from Lia.

  ‘I’m not sure you’d recognise intelligence if you fell through the roof of MI6.’

  Lia continued to spray them.

  Steve wiped his face. ‘What is with her?’

  ‘She’s an estate agent,’ Julia told him, as if that explained it.

  Which it appeared to. He shrugged. ‘When she’s sober again, ask her if she can give me a call. I’ve got a couple of properties I want to shift.’

  Did he think that was going to impress her? ‘Caravans illegally parked on the side of the M25 aren’t really her thing.’

  The PI shrugged. ‘Oh, don’t worry. There is plenty of commission in it for her.’

  Bored now, Julia called goodnight and left as Steve dragged Lia to the dance floor to attempt what looked suspiciously like The Hustle. It was the 21st century, for God’s sake! No one did The Hustle anymore.

  And to top the night off, it took forty minutes to find a cab. And then the cabbie decided that the most direct way to South Kensington from Camden was via Islington.

  Bastards. The lot of them.

  Except for David Henry-Jones.

  He hadn’t let her down.

  Well, except for dating some inferior woman, that was.

  But so far, it was safe to assume the lawyer was still on her side.

  And Julia felt sure he would stay there.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JULIA WAS DREAMING OF the dishy lawyer plying her with champagne and trying to get her into bed, so when she heard ‘David Henry-Jones has come,’ she figured her dream was going pretty much as expected.

  ‘Mrs Palmie, David Henry-Jones has come.’

  Connie in a sex dream about David?

  No way.

  Julia opened one eye and saw her maid hovering above her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your lawyer. He here. Downstairs. Making coffee.’

  Julia leaped five feet into the air. And when she came back down, she was out of bed and staring at her gruesome reflection in the dressing table mirror. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Oh God, it will take me ages to get ready. What’s the time?’

  Connie looked at her watch. ‘Ten.’

  ‘Shit, he thinks I am asleep at ten?’

  ‘You were,’ Connie pointed out sagely.

  ‘Oh do shut up, and get down there and say I am just on the phone with my poor sick aunty in Dorset.’

  ‘But you don’t have–‘

  ‘Just do it!’

  ‘This is a surprise.’ Julia smiled, hoping that the creases on her face weren’t visible under the truckload of makeup she had just applied. She’d managed to shower and dress in under twenty minutes and was utterly exhausted. Effort such as that deserved some sort of lifetime achievement award.

  David, who was engaged in what appeared to be a game of Ludo with Connie, was clearly relieved to see her. Who could blame him? Ludo when entirely sober – what on earth was Connie thinking?

  ‘Good news. I spoke with Rover and he has agreed to go back to the original agreement to save on court costs. He’ll give you the house, and agree to the adultery. As long as you sign on the dotted line, the Degree Absolute could be less than two months away.’ He seemed pleased with himself.

  For some unknown reason, Connie chuckled beside her. Julia felt ill. ‘But I told you, David. I want half.’

  ‘I thought I made it clear that we would have difficulty contesting a divorce with a party in the States? The cost, remember?’

  ‘He did this on purpose, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to afford to do anything about it. I’m just back where I started. The bank says he hasn’t paid any maintenance like he said he would.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then: ‘I’ll petition once again that the case is heard hear in the UK, on the grounds that Rover has spent less than six months in New York. Hopefully, he’ll have to fly back, and we can deal with him on our own turf.’

  Julia wiped away the solitary tear that had tracked through the heavily applied foundation. ‘You think it will work?’

  ‘It’s just about the financial settlement, after all. If he behaves, he can stay there and it can be easily sorted out. If he doesn’t, well, let’s see . . .’

  There was silence and Julia observed that David was more casually dressed than usual. Hackett jacket and Polo jeans, she guessed. And some sort of new aftershave that made her want to leap on him.

  ‘Julia?’

  ‘What? Sorry?’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Hah?’ It was totally unexpected.

  ‘How are you doing, with all this mess. It seems a shame, Rover doing this to you. I’ve always thought, um . . .’

  ‘Thought what?’ Julia asked eagerly.

  ‘Thought that you were a lovely person. Both inside, and um, out.’

  Hallelujah! He’s noticed.

  ‘That’s so sweet. Especially coming from you.’ Julia tried not to sound too interested. Now that there was evidence of some attraction, it was important to play it cool. Even if inside, her heart was beating like it was being drummed by a rocker on cocaine.

  ‘Do you fancy a meal sometime?’

  And it just got better and better.

  ‘Ooh yes,’ Julia answered, completely forgetting to play it cool. Sod it! David Henry-Jones was a complete hunk and if she didn’t get some nocturnal action soon, she’d have to start going to the gym or something. ‘Is it legal, you dating me?’

  ‘Well, officially, Suzanne is acting for you, and I’m not a doctor, so I think it’s fine.’

  ‘Excellent.’ She longed to take a step towards him, but was conscious of the quickly applied makeup, which might not stand up to close-up scrutiny.

  ‘All talk of Rover and the divorce is banned.’ David grinned, handing back the cup of tea that Connie had made him.

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed, gently taking the cup and running her fingers across his as she did so. Something within her began sparking.

  Thank God for Connie. I’d be bonking him on the kitchen table if she wasn’t here.

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘What?’

  David stood up and grabbed his coat. Burberry. Of course.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’

  Shit. Lia had asked her out for drinks. With Hugo AWOL she couldn’t cancel it. ‘Um, could you meet me at the Gore on Queensgate? I’ve got a meeting and . . .’

  Suddenly, Connie interrupted. ‘Hettie is here.’

  Julia jumped about five feet in the air. Again. ‘What!’ she whispered.

  David observed them expectantly. ‘Who’s this Hettie?’ he asked.

  ‘A client,’ Connie replied, before clapping a hand across her face.

  Julia wanted to slap the stupid woman, but David might not want to date a person who abused her staff.

  ‘A what?’ A bemused look spread across his handsome features.

  ‘A friend. Connie is an immigrant. She is easily confused.’

  ‘Julia! You can’t say things like that!’ The lawyer’s expression had changed from bemused to shocked.

  ‘It’s okay. I am a stupid immigrant,’ Connie told him.

  The look on David’s face was priceless, but Julia wasn’t in the mood to consider the humour in the situation. By now they’d arrived in the hallway, where Hettie stood, a letter in hand, looking miserable and sartorially shambolic.

  ‘Julia, I really must talk . . .’

  ‘Hettie, how nice to see you!’ Going over to the plump female, Julia hugged her far too tightly. ‘Why don’t you go through and we can have a nice chat. I am just saying goodbye to David here.’

  Hettie blinked. ‘Is he a client? I thought you only took one at a time?’

  For a moment, not a word was spoken, then David asked Julia why he would be a client.

  ‘Come on, what’s going on?’

  Connie came to the rescue, sort of. ‘I’ll take Hettie, you talk to David . . . Confidentiality,’ Julia hear
d her whisper to Hettie, as the study door opened and closed.

  Connie was definitely not the dummy she tried to make out she was.

  This time, the lawyer wasn’t about to be fobbed off.

  Pay attention – Julia. Mess to sort out!

  ‘Julia, what is going on?’

  Think. Think of something. ‘Um . . .’ Anything. Be quick ‘Um . . .’ Come on, he’s waiting. Your chance to screw him might be slipping away. ‘I am a psychic.’ Nooooo. Not that! Now I’ll sound like a freak. No one wants to screw freaks.

  ‘Really?’ He wasn’t convinced, obviously.

  ‘Why, don’t you believe me?’

  ‘You don’t seem like the type, if you don’t mind my saying so.’

  ‘And what is the type?’

  ‘I don’t know, spiritual. Full of empathy.’

  Julia motioned at the closed door nearby. ‘I keep seeing her dead grandma in my dreams. And she’s my friend, so I want her to find some peace. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘If you’re genuine and not charging her, nothing.’ His expression was stern.

  ‘She insists on paying. I’m, um, giving the money to charity.’ In the study cum office, Hettie’s questions about Julia’s new client were becoming louder. She took David’s arm and led him to the door. ‘So, tomorrow night, The Gore? Say nine?’

  With a final quick frown, David nodded and strode quickly down the path. Julia prayed that wasn’t the last she was going to see of him.

  Bloody Hettie.

  Bloody Rover.

  Bloody life.

  When were things finally going to go right? Julia looked up at the sky as she closed the door. There definitely wasn’t anyone up there looking out for her, was there? If there was, her life wouldn’t resemble the plot of a Carry On film.

  Connie had made a decision of sorts. She’d play it both ways. And not tell Mr Rover who the lawyer was. That way, Connie could be guaranteed a win-win.

  Slowly, she dialled the number, which was answered almost immediately.

  ‘Mr Rover?’

  ‘Yes.’ The anticipation was heavy in his voice.

  ‘We do a deal for fifty, or not at all.’

  A humungous sigh. ‘Fine, fifty.’

  ‘Transfer the money.’

  ‘What have you got? You need to tell me first.’

  ‘Oh, it’s good.’

  ‘How good?’

  ‘Better than you imagined. Mrs Palmie up to dodgy business. You might get her out of house for nothing.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Agreeing to transfer the money as soon as the banks in New York opened, Mr Rover thanked Connie profusely for her decision. And her discretion.

  A little while later, Connie went to the hidden document holder, which she’d fashioned in the recess of the upper portion of her sock drawer, and pulled out copies of Mr Rover’s bank accounts. When Mrs Palmie was finished lying to Hettie about the David lawyer, they could sit down and have a chat.

  Fair is fair. If Mr Rover got information about her, she would get the information about him.

  It would be a deadlock.

  And they would both have to settle quickly.

  With Connie pocketing the good will on both sides.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NATURALLY, HETTIE HAD BROUGHT more bad news, this time in the form of a letter from the loser ex – Kevin Brown. Or more accurately, his new law firm.

  Inner City LLP.

  Which, of course, was also David Henry-Jones’ firm.

  Shit.

  Kevin was now beginning to spend serious money. How and why he had chosen Inner City LLP though, was of greater concern.

  The letter contained some rubbish about Kevin not accepting the divorce petition, nor the settlement request of 75 per cent of Kevin’s assets. This was a surprise. Well, in part. Even Rover, total prick that he was, had agreed to the actual divorce. It was the settlement that was a problem. Why the hell would the fetid Kevin wish to remain married to dull Hettie, particularly as he was now becoming a father?

  It could only be one thing.

  The kid.

  Christ. How much could one tiny baby cost? More likely he didn’t have the money to pay Hettie out without selling the copper mine.

  But if there was no divorce, then Hettie might demand the rest of her money back, and Julia had already given most of it to Inner City LLP. Thanks to Rover and his recalcitrant behaviour, it was unlikely Julia herself would get any of it back. One could only imagine how much it cost for David, a partner, to drive to her house to deliver papers. A rough guess? A thousand quid. That ten grand wasn’t going to go far, and she’d already spent a good portion of the other ten grand she’d filched from Hettie on maintaining her luxury South Ken lifestyle.

  And there was no way Rover would pay a penny in maintenance – not even if they locked him up for refusing.

  Something had to be done.

  But what?

  ‘Look, Hettie. Don’t worry about this, I’ll sort it.’

  ‘But it says he doesn’t agree. That means he might want me back.’

  Connie coughed loudly, and Julia longed to smother her with the striped pillow the maid was clutching. What was she doing plumping pillows anyway? She was supposed to be a legal secretary.

  ‘No, it means he doesn’t want to pay, Hettie, that’s all. It just delays things. Remember, he is living with another woman.’

  ‘But you said she’s horrible.’

  ‘She is.’ And so are you. ‘It means nothing. Love is blind.’

  ‘You think he loves her?’ Tears welled up again, and Julia began to feel dizzy. How to proper lawyers deal with these sorts of situations, day in, day out? She used to resent all the cash Lia told her Hugo earned, but now, she considered him to be a fool who should have gone into banking.

  ‘No. But men can’t be trusted. Let me reply, and then we’ll see, okay?’

  Calling for Connie should show Hettie out, Julia sunk into the swivel chair and thumped her head on the desk.

  Now what?

  Will Inner City LLP discover her nasty little secret? Did they already know?

  Shazza the skank, as Steve called the girlfriend, might be pregnant, but that didn’t help things. A sleazebag like Kevin would probably move the girlfriend into the shack by the railway, and downtrodden Hettie would, for the sake of peace, agree to it.

  Shit. That was not going to happen. If for no other reason than Hettie deserved marginally better than Kevin.

  Feeling enthused by a new-found sense of responsibility, Julia picked up the phone and rang David.

  And she needed to know whether the lawyer who was dealing with Kevin – someone called Adam Bowers, had snitched on her yet. If David had discovered that she was pretending to be a lawyer, there was no way he would continue the case.

  He was far too moralistic to knowingly allow her to masquerade as a legal practitioner – especially as he might be implicated in the whole affair.

  And what all that meant for their personal relationship, God only knew.

  What relationship? She had yet to make it to the first date.

  Miracles of miracles, he was in. Ignoring the lurching in her gut at the sound of his deep voice, she cut to the point. ‘David, quick question. What if Rover suddenly refuses the divorce? Decides he doesn’t want one.’

  ‘He won’t. He’s agreed. Remember? Now, the settlement, that’s another thing. I’ve got your Form E back but we are having a hard time tracing some of the assets you claim he accumulated during your time together and . . .’

  ‘I’m concerned he might change his mind. What then?’

  ‘Well, he abandoned you, went overseas and committed adultery. We would ask for a hearing and have them solve the matter, but if it came to that, we’d do it all at once, along with the actual settlement.’

  ‘Right.’ Julia’s mind was working through the possibilities. Okay then. As long as Hettie decided not to take Kevin back, she was still on track for a fo
rtune – from two sources.

  ‘Um, Julia. The Form E?’

  ‘Yes. I am working on it. The maid is still looking.’

  An uncomfortable silence. She had nothing else to say, but didn’t want to hung up.

  ‘Is there anything else, Julia?’ David queried.

  ‘No, no. Thank you. I’ll send you an email with any details.’

  ‘Brilliant. And do think about Rover’s settlement offer. We could get the case heard quickly in New York but without some sort of proof he is hiding his assets, it simply isn’t worth the money. These things can run into years, and often what you gain in funds, you lose in fees.’

  ‘Oh.’ Julia hadn’t thought of that. ‘Perhaps the Form E will make him see sense.’

  ‘Depends on what you find. Let’s hope so. See you tomorrow. Nine p.m.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Can’t wait.’

  Too eager Julia, too eager.

  Once the line disconnected, Julia pondered her options. Thank God David didn’t seem to know about Kevin or Hettie. But the wily loser clearly wanted to have his cake, such as it was, and eat it too. Well, it wasn’t going to happen.

  God, she need a gin and tonic, which made her think of Lia, but her friend was unavailable on a viewing, so the only other person she could vent to was Connie, which was out of the question. Connie was up to something with all those secretive phone calls – probably involving Rover – so until she discovered exactly what was what, the maid was off limits as far as information was concerned.

  As she trudged upstairs, another option occurred to her. Steve Smith might help, as putrid as the thought of calling him was. Sighing, Julia threw herself on her bed and dialled the number.

  ‘Hot stuff! What a surprise.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Listen, Steve, I need your help.’

  ‘With a bra strap?’

  ‘Are you insane? No. About my case.’

  ‘Ah, all work and no play, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, you cliché-riddled maniac, now listen. Why would this Kevin guy be saying he didn’t want a divorce if he wasn’t trying to protect his assets?’