by Maeve Haran
‘So, Julia,’ Ella asked brightly, knowing her question sounded like something from the 1950s and would be deeply unpopular, but wanting to bring Julia back to reality, ‘what are you giving Neil for supper?’
Julia shot her a look of deep irritation. ‘I don’t really care. Something from the freezer will do.’
‘But you’re such a good cook.’
‘I could put deep-fried rubber tyre in front of Neil and he’d still eat it.’
Wenceslaus started to laugh at what he clearly found a very witty joke from Julia.
Well, that reminder of her domestic duties had been a success.
‘How about you, Wenceslaus,’ Julia enquired solicitously, ‘are you feeling hungry enough to eat?’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Ella said firmly. ‘I’ll cook something plain later for us both. Why don’t you get off home and defrost that rubber tyre?’
‘Claudia, it’s so good to see you!’ Ella folded her old friend in a bear hug of an embrace as she arrived in The Grecian Grove. ‘You look different already!’
‘Don’t be daft, I’ve only been gone a few days.’
‘No, I’m sure you’re all apple-cheeked and rural.’
‘That’s running for the bus, not moving to Surrey! Anyway, where’s Sal?’
It seemed strange that there would only be three of them meeting up but Ella had decreed that if Laura needed their help they would be better deciding what to do without her.
‘There’s she is!’ What on earth has she got with her?’ Sal seemed to be struggling with an oversized brown package. ‘And what’s more, what is she wearing?’
Amongst the drab suburban early evening drinkers Sal, in her black leather studded jacket, chiffon handkerchief skirt and black leggings, stood out like a punk rocker in a group of postulants. ‘Sal! Sal! Over here! What have you got there? It looks like a pull-along coffin.’
To their surprise Sal flinched, then shook her head as if to rid herself of an unwelcome image. ‘It’s for you.’ She placed the enormous parcel in Claudia’s arms.
Intrigued, Claudia tore open the paper. Inside was a large shopping trolley in an eye-catching zebra-skin fabric.
‘I never gave you a goodbye present,’ Sal explained. ‘In the country everyone has a shopping trolley.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Ella, ‘you’ll blend in at once. Especially if you stop in the middle of a pedestrian crossing.’
‘Like in Abbey Road,’ Sal agreed.
In fact, most people in Minsley, Claudia had discovered, carried their shopping in either baskets or occasionally even trugs, but tactfully she kept this to herself.
‘Thank you, Sally. No one will ever guess I’ve moved from London now.’
‘So how is it?’
‘Don loves it.’
‘I didn’t ask about Don.’
‘The dog loves it.’
‘Claudia!’
‘I expect I’ll get used to it. It’s just such a huge jolt. Resigning from teaching—’
‘Are you coping with that OK?’ Ella interrupted. ‘It must be such a change for you.’
‘Actually,’ Claudia admitted, ‘I’m missing it like hell. The backbiting in the staffroom, being shafted by Drooly Dooley, patronized by the deputy head for my lack of techno skills . . .’
‘Yes,’ Ella laughed, ‘I can see it must be nice to leave all that behind.’
‘No, I mean it!’ Claudia grinned. ‘I really do miss that stuff. And, of course, the pupils.’
‘You could probably do some teaching in the country. Volunteer in a school or something?’
‘I know. Anyway, there’s lots to take my mind off it. My father’s fractured hip. My mother’s manic depression.’
‘Oh my God, I suppose this is the future for us all.’
‘But your mother’s such a powerhouse.’
‘I know, but it’s all got out of hand. She’s had the manic bit for months, now we’re waiting for the depression. It’s going to be hard for her to accept it. How about you two?’
Sal bit her lip. She longed to tell them about the biopsy she’d just had but she couldn’t face the sympathy she’d see in their eyes. If she told her friends, then she’d have to tell the magazine. The only way she could hold all this together was to keep silent. Besides, it might all be nothing. ‘I’m still looking for ideas for the new magazine. And a new columnist. As a matter of fact, I found a blog I love and I’m trying to track down the writer.’
‘And have you found them?’
That’s just it. The blog’s anonymous. It’s so infuriating. The writer has the most wonderfully black sense of humour; I’m itching to sign them up.’
‘Oh yes,’ Ella sipped her wine, her interest piqued, ‘what’s the blog called?’
‘It’s a pun on that silly Eat Pray Love book. Moan Fart Die. Isn’t that terrific? So brilliantly unsentimental.’
Ella choked on her white wine.
‘Good title,’ Claudia agreed. ‘Probably some crusty old gent.’
‘No, it’s definitely a woman.’
Ella quietly panicked. If she confessed to being the author she would lose the freedom she revelled in. Besides, it would mean admitting that she’d drawn on their private lives as well as on her own. Especially Laura’s.
‘Anyway,’ she changed the subject abruptly, ‘I thought today was about Laura and Simon. First he admits to having an affair on their silver wedding anniversary, then he tells her the bloody woman’s pregnant. Now he wants Laura to divorce him so he can marry the Sperm-digger before the baby arrives.’
‘Oh my God, that’s dreadful. Why are men never satisfied? Laura’s been the perfect wife.’
‘Not perfect enough. She committed the unforgivable sin of growing older.’
‘It’s so unfair!’ Sal insisted. ‘She’s been a better homemaker than any of us. She cooks brilliantly, looks amazing, the house is like a page out of Interiors! She doesn’t even have a demanding job to distract her from looking after Simon. If Laura isn’t safe, no one is. What’s the matter with men? It’s like that song by the Eagles. You know, the one about having lots of fine things laid upon your ta-a-ble and only wanting the ones you can’t have.’
‘Oh my God, she means “Desperado”!’ teased Claudia. ‘Sally Grainger discovers The Eagles’ Guide to Life!’
‘You could learn a bit from them yourself!’ Sal flashed back. It might be the stress of waiting for her diagnosis that was making her impatient, but really Claudia was always moaning on about having to move to Surrey as if it were the Siberian salt mines.
‘Now, now, girls,’ said Ella. ‘We won’t be any help to Laura if we quarrel amongst ourselves.’
‘You’re absolutely right.’ Claudia held out a hand to Sal. ‘Shake, pardner?’
‘Is that another “Desperado” dig?’ Sal asked suspiciously.
‘No, no, I mean it. Poor Laura. This is all so shitty. How’s she taking it?’
‘She’s gutted. And frightened about the future. God, it’s so unfair. I mean, you’d think after twenty-five years you could at least look forward to sharing your old age together, sitting on the sofa with a TV supper watching David Attenborough. Here we all are, looking ten times better than our mothers, and our husbands still run off with younger women!’
‘Simon would never have sat on a sofa watching David Attenborough,’ Ella speculated. ‘He’s much more the type to join the gym and get a Maserati.’
‘If she’s not careful he probably won’t even leave her a sofa to watch television on!’ insisted Sal. ‘She doesn’t need David Attenborough, she needs a shit-hot divorce lawyer!’
‘And do you know what?’ Ella smiled, remembering one of her fellow law students from university days and realizing that she could be useful. ‘I think I know one. Rowley Robinson.’
‘He sounds like a firm, not a person.’
‘There’s only one of Rowley. Erring husbands quake at the mention of him. From Russian oligarchs to Persian property tycoons, no one wants Rowle
y on the other side.’
‘But isn’t he incredibly expensive? Laura hasn’t been earning for years.’
‘Maybe she’s saved up the housekeeping; besides, I’ll get Rowley to do it at mates’ rates.’
‘Stupid Simon.’
‘Let’s drink to that. To Stupid Simon – may his nights be broken and the baby’s nappies smelly!’
Sal raised her glass and silently added: ‘And to me not having bloody cancer!’
CHAPTER 12
Laura looked up at the grand and forbidding exterior of Rowley Robinson’s office in Lincoln’s Inn Fields and wondered how much this visit was going to cost her. The last thing she could afford was to start paying an expensive divorce lawyer, yet Ella kept insisting this was exactly what she had to do or she would be royally stitched up.
Once she’d got past the equally forbidding receptionist, Rowley himself was a pleasant surprise. With his curly black hair, horn-rimmed specs and bow-tie he was less Rottweiler, more standard poodle.
‘Hello, Mrs Minchin, delighted to meet you. Any friend of Ella’s is immediately welcome here, though I’m sorry about the circumstances. Coffee?’
He signalled to the young man sitting at a desk outside his office. ‘Two coffees, Ben, thanks.’
How refreshing, a male assistant; this boded well.
Rowley’s office had none of the panelled and intimidating air of an old-fashioned lawyer’s chambers. It was light, airy and functional. Laura sat down on one of the pale blue sofas and decided she would get through this as quickly as possible. She hadn’t had the nerve yet to ask about fees.
‘Now, Mrs Minchin, can I call you Laura?’
‘Please do.’
‘Just give me a brief outline of what has happened with your husband.’
‘We have been married twenty-five years. In fact, it was on our anniversary that it all came out, that my husband Simon was having an affair with a much younger work colleague, and that she wanted him to leave me and go and live with her.’
‘And how did you respond?’
‘I told him to go.’ Laura closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have been so violent in my reaction but I was so hurt. I’d planned this romantic night away and that was when it happened.’
Rowley Robinson smiled gently. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. In my experience, when a couple are deciding to break up, they act in their own interest irrespective of the other person’s response. Your husband had probably already made up his mind what he wanted to do. The timing simply made it more painful for you.’
Laura felt a burden of guilt being lifted from her. If he was right, then losing her temper with Simon hadn’t been so bad after all.
‘He moved out immediately?’
‘He went that night and came back the next day for his things. He just simply said he knew he was behaving badly, that he was the villain of the piece and we’d all hate him but that was the way it was.’
‘Unusually candid,’ Rowley remarked. ‘Most husbands like to blame the wife.’
‘It didn’t endear him to our daughter. She guessed the other woman would be waiting for him in his car and ran out and confronted her.’
‘Are there other children?’
‘A son. He’s twenty-two, he’s just left university. Our daughter is twenty-four.’
‘And what about yourself? Have you worked during the marriage?’
Laura’s chin went up defensively. She hated this question. ‘No. The thing is, I had a very unsettled childhood myself, with parents I never saw who eventually ended up divorcing. I wanted something different for my own children.’ A small sob escaped before she could repress it. ‘I haven’t done a very good job.’
‘Marriage is a contract. It involves two people. If one party breaks the agreement it is hard to repair sometimes.’ Rowley gave her a small smile. ‘And since then?’
‘The woman he left me for is now pregnant and Simon wants me to bring a petition for divorce.’
‘Citing adultery? Unreasonable behaviour is also an option.’
‘But isn’t that harder to prove? Wouldn’t Simon have had to have beaten me or got drunk every night?’
‘These days it can be something quite trivial – such as telling you you’re fat or the fact that he didn’t listen to your opinions. There was even a case the other day of a wife claiming unreasonable behaviour because her husband criticized her map reading.’
‘Sounds as if the law’s trying to help people get a divorce as easily as possible.’
‘Yes, well, the law isn’t trying to make it hard, certainly, or point the finger at either party. Some couples prefer unreasonable behaviour because they don’t like using adultery. For the children’s sake sometimes.’
‘Not much of an issue in our case since my daughter spat at my husband’s mistress and called her a selfish cow.’
‘Big question now. Are you happy to go ahead with proceedings or do you have hopes for reconciliation?’
Laura laughed hollowly. ‘I have no hopes for a reconciliation.’
Rowley thought for a moment. ‘You’re aware I have a certain reputation? People come to me if they want to play dirty and screw the maximum from their ex. In fact, I expect that’s why Ella thought of me, but, as it happens, I’m going to give you the advice I give my friends rather than my clients.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Don’t be vengeful. Anyone with children has a future tied to each other. There will be weddings. Maybe grandchildren. Be generous. Be delightful. Be accommodating. Even if you’d actually like to strangle him. Don’t give him any grounds for feeling justified in leaving you. We will go for a clean break and the best financial settlement we can. What’s crucial is, do it quickly while he is still feeling at least a morsel of guilt.’
‘I’m not sure he is. Hannibal Lecter feels more guilt than my husband.’
‘You’d be surprised. If you have, as you say, had a reasonably happy marriage and he’s not blaming you for the break-up, he will be feeling guilty, I assure you, but it won’t last long. The other party will poison him against you and probably plead her pregnancy to speed things up. Our window is very small. Shall we go for it?’
‘Yes.’ Laura felt as if she was standing in an unknown sea and didn’t know if the tide was going out or coming in. Her only chance of survival, according to Rowley, was to swim with the current.
‘One question. What will happen to the house?’
Rowley shrugged sympathetically. ‘The house is always an issue. It will depend on what other capital your husband has. It’s possible, if you forgo a claim to half his pension, that you may be able to keep it, but you would have to maintain it and pay any mortgage. And it would very much depend how much other capital he has.’
‘Thank you.’ Laura stood up. She didn’t want the meeting, which, no doubt, was costing the earth, to go on any longer than it had to.
Rowley Robinson stood up too. ‘Perhaps you’re disappointed? A lot of my clients want to nail the bastard. How dare he be unfaithful and abandon me? They want him publicly condemned, turned into a social pariah. But the truth is, I’m afraid, adultery is commonplace; it doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. Wives think crucifying him will give them satisfaction. And do you know what? The opposite is true. Because the only power they have is through using the children and that wrecks their own lives and it screws up the children. Don’t be one of them.’ He held out his hand. ‘And don’t tell anyone I’m giving this kind of advice.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘If it got out, my career could be over.’
Laura stumbled out into the brightness of Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Life all seemed so normal. The shouts of children playing. The thwack of tennis balls. Old men sitting on benches. Someone strumming a guitar. Office workers eating their sandwiches in the cold winter sunshine. While all around the big law firms crowded together deciding everyone’s future, including hers.
She got out her phone and called Ella.
‘He says I sho
uld be nice as pie to Simon and go for a clean break. No point expecting a court or anyone else to disapprove of him and Suki. Adultery is commonplace now and doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.’
‘Oh doesn’t it?’ Ella was starting to feel very annoyed on behalf of her friend. She could feel another blog coming on, though she’d have to be careful if Sal was reading them. ‘Well, I hope Rowley’s right. He usually is. Why don’t you come over and share a glass?’
Laura sighed, feeling a tiny lifting of her black mood. ‘That sounds absolutely lovely.’
On her way to Ella’s she dropped some shopping off. Milk. Teabags. Pizzas for Sam. She knew she should probably make him cater for himself but doing his washing and making him the odd meal gave her something to think about outside her own misery and that helped her. She kept on nagging about finding work and she knew he was trying and that he’d applied online for dozens of jobs. He’d at least got some paid work walking the neighbours’ dogs.
In fact, she discovered not Sam at home, but Bella.
‘How did you get on? Sam says you’ve been to see some Jaws of a divorce lawyer.’
Bella, Laura noted, had acquired another tattoo, a delicate spider’s web, across one of her hands. Laura tried not to shudder. ‘Yes. He’s advised me to go for a clean break and not play dirty.’
‘Not play dirty?’ Bella’s pale Goth face actually went red with fury. ‘You mean let Dad off the hook so he can go and play geriatric mummies and daddies with that home breaker?’
Laura paused, her mind in a whirl. Part of her sympathized with Bella’s black-and-white view of life and especially of Simon, but Rowley Robinson’s words about trying to preserve some kind of family life for the future had had a powerful effect.
Bella might need to hate her father, Laura understood that, but it would be a mistake, even for Bella’s own sake, to act on it.
‘The thing is, Bella love, whatever he’s done he’s still your father and you only have one father. Don’t cut him out of your life completely.’
‘God, Mum! You’re hopeless! You’re going to let him walk all over you, aren’t you? You’ll lose the house and he’ll have little Fruit of the New Womb to dandle on his knee. He won’t even want us any more. We’ll be his ex-family, and his ex-kids!’ She slammed out, leaving Laura close to tears. She knew it was Bella’s anger and hurt that were speaking but her daughter could be so undermining.