He made a cup of strong tea and managed to burn a couple of pieces of toast. Claudia had acquired a small, yappy Yorkshire terrier, which suddenly came bounding in, anxious for a walk, no doubt. It usually slept on the bed with them and would burrow beneath the covers at night. David hated it. He couldn’t stand small dogs.
He left it sniffing around the kitchen and went into the huge, open-plan living-dining room. This was the pièce de résistance of the apartment, a beautiful spacious room, one wall completely glass, leading onto a landscaped patio. Another wall marble and the rest of the wall-space mirrored. The room was chaotic. They had had people in for drinks before going out the previous evening, and half-empty glasses seemed to be all over the place. Overflowing ashtrays, spilled nuts, magazines, photographs of Claudia, cushions on the floor. Thank God it would all be cleared up today. David liked order.
He went to the front door and collected his papers, extracting The Times and Guardian from among the various film and fashion magazines Claudia seemed to have delivered daily.
He drank his tea – it was too strong. Ate his toast – it was burnt. Read the papers through bleary eyes. Soon it would be time to get dressed and go off to work.
* * *
Linda woke early. The sun was shining and it was a lovely day. She felt good. At last she was starting to enjoy the selfish pleasures of sleeping alone. Taking up the whole of the bed, waking and sleeping when she pleased, always being able to get into the bathroom.
It had been hard at first, the decision to get a divorce. She kept thinking of the children without a father. But the fact that David had moved out and set up home with Claudia had helped her to be strong.
She had found a good lawyer and put herself in his hands. It was quite simple, really.
Today was the day she was going to appear in court, stand calmly before a judge, and state the facts. Her lawyer, a short, stocky, grey-haired man, would be by her side. An inquiry agent would be there to offer relevant information. Her counsel was tall, attractive, and sympathetic. They had all assured her it would go quite smoothly. It was undefended and clear-cut.
She dressed, choosing her clothes carefully. A dark-brown neat suit, low-heeled shoes, not too much makeup. Surveying herself in the mirror, she thought she looked the part. An abandoned wife, sad, courageous, alone.
The children were staying with her mother. She ate a solitary breakfast of boiled eggs and coffee, wishing that she hadn’t sent them away, wishing that their noisy laughter filled the house.
When she finished in court, she was going by train to join them for the weekend, and they would all return to the house together on Monday.
The house belonged to her now. Financial arrangements had been amicable. She had the house and a fairly generous support settlement for herself and the two children.
David visited the children every weekend, either on Saturday or Sunday. Linda always managed to avoid seeing him. In fact, she hadn’t seen him for three months, and then it had been in her lawyer’s office to make the financial settlement final.
She made only one stipulation about his seeing the children, and that was that she didn’t want them in Claudia’s company at all. He didn’t argue on that point.
She finished her coffee. Soon it would be time to go to her lawyer’s office and accompany him to court.
* * *
Claudia woke at eleven. There was someone ringing the doorbell. She groped her way to the front door, struggling into a flimsy pink negligee covered with makeup stains.
A short, squat woman stood facing her. ‘I’m Mrs. Cobb,’ she announced. ‘The agency sent me.’ She had heavy red hands and a scrubbed old face.
‘Come in, Mrs. Cobb,’ Claudia said, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m afraid it’s an awful mess, but I’m sure you’ll cope.’ She took her into the kitchen and gestured under the sink. ‘You’ll find everything you need there. Excuse me if I leave you to it. I had a very late night.’
Mrs. Cobb looked grimly around and didn’t say anything.
Claudia took an open can of peaches from the fridge and tipped them into a dish. ‘My breakfast,’ she said with a bright smile, and stopping to collect the magazines and papers from the living room, she went into the bedroom.
Propped comfortably back in bed, she leafed idly through the papers, the Daily Mail being her favourite. It was the show page that interested her. She scanned it eagerly, looking as usual for any mention of Conrad Lee. She was delighted. Today there was a whole article on the location of his film in Israel. It stated that the company would be returning to England at the end of the week for studio work.
She made a big pencil ring around the piece and phoned her agent on the shell-pink bedside telephone. She still had two days’ work to do on Conrad’s film. Things had become rather complicated, and the unit had gone on location before reaching her scenes. However, the film company had given her agent constant promises that as soon as they returned she would be needed for her two days’ work.
She gave her agent the good news, and he promised to look into it immediately.
She stretched languidly. The past few months since moving to the penthouse had been fun, although David was becoming a bit of a bore. The penthouse was the most beautiful apartment. All her friends were very impressed. She had done lots of photo-sessions there, and she was always pleased when they appeared in various magazines – saying lovely young actress and model, Claudia Parker, relaxing in her luxurious penthouse.
Giles was coming over at two o’clock to do a nude layout for a prominent American men’s magazine. She hoped David would be working late as he disliked Giles intensely, in spite of the fact that he didn’t even know she had had an affair with him. Anyway, if he knew she was doing a nude layout he would be furious. He was very old fashioned that way.
The magazine was paying her and Giles a lot of money to do the spread. And anyway, she didn’t mind showing off her body. After all, it was certainly worth showing.
She lounged back in bed, yawning. Soon it would be time to start preparing herself: until then she could relax.
* * *
David arrived at his office tired and bad-tempered.
His secretary greeted him with a worried face. ‘Mr. Cooper, your uncle wants to see you at once. His assistant said you should go straight to his office.’
What now? Being summoned by Uncle Ralph was never good news. His uncle had been most disapproving about his split-up with Linda. Divorce was a frowned-upon sin, and Uncle Ralph could be very religious when it suited him.
Uncle Ralph was sitting like a small, bald buzzard behind his desk in his early-Victorian-style office. His secretary, Penny, a wide-eyed blond, ushered David in.
He appraised her sexy long legs in her ultrashort skirt. Trust Uncle Ralph to have the only good-looking secretary in the building.
‘Good morning, David,’ Uncle Ralph grunted. ‘Sit down – sit down. Wanted to have a word with you about the Fulla Health Beans account.’
‘We don’t have it anymore.’
‘Exactly – exactly. That’s what I want to talk to you about.’
His uncle launched into a long lecture about why they had lost the account, which to his way of thinking was because of David’s unenthusiastic attitude and the fact that he always seemed tired. He hinted that perhaps the job was too much for him.
David listened carefully, dissecting every word Uncle Ralph said, because every word Uncle Ralph said always meant something else. What he was actually saying was, ‘Don’t come in here dragging your arse because you’ve been up with a hot piece all night. Either work or get the hell out.’ He concluded the lecture with the information that Mr. Taylor of the Fulla Beans account was in town for one more night, and that he was prepared to reconsider his decision about withdrawing the account.
‘Now, you take him out to dinner,’ Uncle Ralph said. ‘Tell him our plans, lay it on thick. Get him drunk, entertain him. Take him to a nightclub and fix him up with a hostess. Keep him happy
. Whatever happens, I want that account back.’
‘Yes, sir.’ David got up.
Penny was sitting behind her desk in the outer office, legs crossed neatly beneath her desk. She smiled at him, an open invitation in her innocent wide eyes. He wondered vaguely if she was sleeping with the ugly old buzzard; the rumour around the building said she was. He wouldn’t mind knocking a piece of that off, get one over on Uncle.
He leaned over her desk. ‘How come I only ever see you here?’
Her smile widened and she started to reply, but the buzzer rang on her desk and she jumped up quickly. Uncle Ralph had anticipated the pass and was summoning her to the safety of his office.
She scampered off, sexy legs seductive beneath a short skirt.
David returned morosely to his own office and his own secretary, who was pale and mousy and flat-chested. She had an intense crush on him which she tried to conceal, making it all the more obvious.
‘Mr. Cooper,’ she said anxiously, ‘is everything all right?’
‘Everything’s fine.’ He sat glumly at his desk. The thought of entertaining Mr. Taylor of Fulla Beans to an evening on the town was depressing.
‘Oh, dear, Mr. Cooper.’ His secretary was almost wringing her hands. ‘Oh, dear, it had to happen today too.’
‘What’s so special about today?’
‘It’s your divorce today.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Well, I mean—’
So it was – he had forgotten all about it. It seemed strange that Linda could go into a court somewhere and divorce him and he didn’t even have to be there. It didn’t seem right.
His lawyer had written informing him of the date a while ago. He had said that they would send someone along purely as a formality.
His secretary stood nervously by the desk.
‘Thanks for the cheerful reminder, Miss Field,’ he said.
She flushed. ‘I’m so sorry – I thought you knew…’ Her words trailed off. ‘Would you like some coffee, Mr. Cooper?’
‘That would be nice, Miss Field.’
She fled gratefully, almost tearfully, from his office.
‘Sonofabitch!’ he muttered. ‘Sonofabitch!’
* * *
The entrance hallway into the courts exuded an atmosphere of gloom. There were people scurrying in all directions, and long passages and stairs everywhere. The overall atmosphere was most depressing.
Linda’s lawyer gripped her firmly by the arm and manoeuvred her up various flights of stairs and into a series of old elevators. It seemed to take ages to get to wherever they were going.
‘I hope your case will be heard before the luncheon recess,’ he said. ‘Chances are that it will be.’
‘How long will it all take?’ she asked nervously.
‘Not too long. It’s all very straightforward. Shouldn’t require a lot of time.’
They had arrived in a long hallway with benches along the walls, and this, Linda presumed, was where they would wait. It was crowded with people, and there was a scattering of men in white curled wigs and black gowns.
Her lawyer called one of them over. ‘This is your counsel, Mr. Brown.’
Mr. Brown was tall and distinguished-looking, with a tanned, crinkly face. He had a soothing, hypnotic voice, and he discussed the questions he would ask Linda briefly.
She felt sick. The whole thing was so awful. Her stomach was fluttering. She wondered if there was a ladies’ room close at hand where she could go and collapse.
Her lawyer said, ‘I think it might be a good idea if we go in and sit through a couple of cases before yours. It will give you a chance to see how things are done.’
She nodded bleakly. He led her through an ordinary door into an ordinary room, and she got a jolting shock. Instead of a huge, stately-looking courtroom as she had imagined, it was a small plain room with about six rows of benches where onlookers sat. There was a small, slightly raised desk where the judge presided, and a raised wooden dais where the witness stood. It was awful. Everyone was so close to everyone else. It was like someone’s living room converted into a court for a day.
She sat on a hard wooden bench. A slightly built man was standing on the witness dais being questioned. ‘And did you know at that time that your wife had had intercourse with Mr. Jackson?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And it was the same day that she packed her bags and left?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Leaving you in the matrimonial home with the children of your marriage, Jennifer and Susan?’
‘Yes, sir.’
The case droned on, the slightly built man expressionless as he was asked question after question.
The judge sat wisely on his bench, nodding occasionally and looking for all the world like a senile old owl. At the conclusion of evidence he said, in hardly more than a mumble, ‘Divorce granted. Custody of the children. Maintenance referred to chambers. Next case, please.’
The expressionless slight man suddenly broke into smiles, his shoulders straightened, and he left the room happily.
The next case was a mousy-looking blond with a heavy cockney accent who was out to divorce Joe – from the sound of it a wildly attractive sex maniac.
It’s so unfair, Linda thought, we’re the innocent ones, and we’re the ones who have to stand up in this stupid little room and reveal the most personal aspects of our lives.
‘Were your marital relationships satisfactory at first?’ her counsel asked.
‘I should say so!’ the mousy blond replied, drawing a muffled, ribald laugh from somewhere in the courtroom.
At last it was Linda’s turn. She stood shakily in the witness stand, horribly aware of how close everyone was to her. She resented the rows of spectators. Why should they be allowed to sit there and stare and listen? It wasn’t fair. After she was sworn in, her counsel began the questions. She answered in a muffled, quiet voice, eyes staring straight ahead.
A document was produced from an inquiry agent, and the judge inspected it briefly. Her counsel continued with the questions, which were really statements of fact which she had only to confirm. Eventually he indicated to the judge that he was finished.
The judge adjusted his glasses, peered for a few brief seconds at Linda, and then said, ‘Divorce granted, custody of the two children, and costs to be paid by the husband. Maintenance and access referred to chambers.’
It was all over. She left the stand in a daze. Her lawyer rushed over and took her arm. ‘Congratulations,’ he whispered.
* * *
Giles was late, of course. He was always late. When he arrived he was laden with cameras and looked tired. ‘Give me some strong black coffee, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a terrible morning shooting bras in the middle of the New Forest.’ He collapsed in a chair, stretching his legs out and yawning. ‘Y’know, this is a great pad, almost worth putting up with your boyfriend for.’
‘Almost?’ questioned Claudia. She had done a skilful makeup. Pale, creamy base, cleverly blended blusher, pale lipstick and huge fluttery eyes. She looked fabulous.
‘Yeah, almost. I mean, darling, he’s such a pain. Hey, you look great. Wish we were shooting this at night. How late can I stay?’
‘Until David gets home. You know how jealous he is. I’ll give him a buzz around five and see what time he’ll be here.’
‘I want to shoot some wild stuff on the terrace – sort of get you silhouetted against the view of London jazz. Lots of hair flowing about and all that shit.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ She was wearing a pink denim shirt tucked into matching pants with a huge gold-buckled belt and white boots.
‘Nice outfit,’ he said. ‘We can start off with that, discarding it bit by bit.’
‘So how’s your love life?’ she asked. ‘Still with that skinny model?’
‘Yeah, we break up about every two weeks regularly, but then it’s back-together-again time.’
‘I see her on the cover of every magazine I pick up. It’s amazing, ’cos
she’s not really that great-looking, but she photographs beautifully.’
‘She’s got a camera face, y’know. She sees a camera and the face switches on, comes to life. Otherwise, it’s just static. I guess our affair keeps going because she’s really screwing my camera and I love the results. She’s making me a bomb. I can’t miss with anything I shoot of her.’
The phone rang. It was Claudia’s agent with good news. It was true: the unit was returning in a few days, and she would probably be needed the following week.
‘The director is flying in today,’ her agent said, ‘and the company is going to try and pin him down to a definite date.’
‘Fabulous.’ She was delighted. She had waited six months for this.
‘Let’s get started,’ Giles said when she hung up, ‘before I go to sleep.’
He worked fast, using three different cameras. He threw himself completely into it, becoming utterly absorbed in what he was doing.
Claudia of course blossomed before a camera, pouting, smiling, giving a tiger snarl, big, big sexy eyes always innocently staring, lips open and glossy. She undid the pink shirt, letting it fall casually open. There was nothing underneath.
After a while Giles said, ‘Take your shirt off and fold your arms across your boobies. That’s it – great! Give me a snarl. That’s beautiful, baby. One leg slightly bent – a surprised look, marvellous! Now cover your boobies with your hands, give me the big-eyed-baby look – beautiful!’ He kept shooting picture after picture. ‘You look terrific. Turn your back to me and swing your head around quickly, let your hair fall – great! Hey, listen, I’ve got an idea, if you don’t mind getting wet. Put the shirt back on and I’ll hose you down with water – it’ll look dynamite!’ He picked up the water hose used to water the plants and turned it on her.
She screamed and laughed. ‘It’s cold!’
He dropped the hose and picked up his camera.
He was right, it was effective. Her clothes had moulded themselves to her body, and her nipples stood out firm and strong through the shirt.
After an hour on the terrace Giles said, ‘Let’s go inside, baby. I’ve got some beautiful stuff of you out here.’
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