Twisted (3 page)

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.’