Twisted Read online

  Lena had begun to really see the benefits of her new business, and financially she felt more secure than she had been when Marcus departed. It took a while for her to begin to enjoy having extra cash to spend on new clothes for herself and Amy, but they had done some serious damage on a couple of trips to Chelsea on Saturday shopping extravaganzas. Working hard for so many years she had rarely if ever spent time on herself or her appearance until recently. It was very obviously successful, as the remarks from everyone that evening proved.

  A meeting with Marcus had been arranged for Monday morning to discuss their divorce proceedings. Only once had Lena asked her daughter if Marcus was living in the rented flat alone, or if he was with someone, but Amy had been dismissive, saying that she had never met anyone, or seen anyone with her father. She did later mention that she thought someone else had been staying as there had been makeup left in his bathroom, but her father had said that it belonged to a friend of the guy he was renting the flat from.

  Lena never for a moment thought Amy was being evasive, and in some ways she was relieved that there was no new figure in either of their lives. She in fact congratulated herself that, unlike many of their friends, they had succeeded in separating without too much emotional trauma. Amy did appear to have totally accepted the arrangements, and showed no outward signs that she was in any way distressed they no longer all lived together. The family home ran smoothly; the gardeners came and tended the garden every Thursday, the housekeeper came in every day at nine and left at five and always had the weekends off. Lena’s driver, an ex-manager of a small repair garage, was diligent and polite and kept her Lexus immaculate. He also did a lot of maintenance work around the house, when not required to chauffeur Lena to her places of work. Sometimes he had worked weekends on the school collection when Marcus had called to say it was not convenient for him to pick up Amy, and even when Marcus had excused himself as being too busy to have Amy stay for her weekend, it had not caused any rifts. Lena was so organized, if arrangements were changed, she was able to quickly alter her diary. Basically, her entire life was taken up with work, and rarely if ever did she have any kind of life outside her day-to-day schedule. At weekends she would arrange something to do with Amy if she was available, and they would go to a local restaurant and take in a movie together. So her social life was built around her daughter, and her weekdays were concentrated on business. She had not sought any other social activities until this evening, even though she was feeling healthier and looking better than she had for years. She was aware that she would be subjected to prying questions about her separation and whether or not it was just a phase and she and Marcus would be getting back together. He was now to all intents and purposes a single man in his early forties, a very different dinner guest to his rather reclusive ex, who had never had been overeager to gossip, and had little to add to their banter.

  Lena had been helped to get her life back on track by her therapist and was now on medication, but it had been many months before she was able face the fact that she needed to make some drastic personal changes. As the business ran smoothly she had begun to take more interest in her appearance. It had not been easy – diet and exercise had dominated what little free time she had – but she made sure to style her hair, and had regular massage sessions at a beauty clinic. She had even had numerous Botox treatments around her brow, eyes and lips. Amy being a weekly boarder at school had given her a lot more free time to focus on herself.

  Amy had been due to spend the weekend with her father but had chosen to have a sleepover in Fulham with one of her best friends, Serena, a young girl that Lena did not particularly like, who had in the past stayed at their house in Richmond. As always there had been emails back and forth to verify that Amy would be collected from school by her friend’s parents and returned there on the Sunday evening.

  Driving the short distance to her home from the Berkoffs’ gave Lena enough time to calm down. She turned in through the big wrought-iron gates, and didn’t bother going further down the private lane to the large double garage, but parked outside her front door, sitting for a while resting her hands on the steering wheel. Then she took a few deep breaths and slapped the wheel with the flat of her hands.

  ‘Now just stop this, Lena, you knew what it was going to be like this evening, and you know why you agreed to go, and whether you hated it or not it was proof that you have taken major steps forwards. When Marcus sees you he’ll want you back, that’s what this is about, now admit it, and stop being silly, you have accomplished everything you planned and worked so hard for. When you meet him on Monday he is going to get a big surprise.’

  She snatched up her little white evening bag and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut and locking it with a bleep. Everything was going to be all right, she would have all of Sunday to plan exactly what she would wear from her new wardrobe of elegant clothes. She immediately felt better and did a small sashay dance step to the front door, as the security lights came on like a floodlit stage, and she opened her little bag with a flourish to take out her house keys.

  It was strange how quickly her mood changed. Suddenly she realized it was the first time since the separation that she had returned to what felt like a very empty house. Maybe she had previously been too busy to notice she was opening her front door to darkness, or perhaps it was the fact she had so rarely been out so late alone. Lena had forgotten to leave lights on in the hall and landing, so it felt even darker than usual. She dropped her handbag on a chair in the hall, switched on the lamps and made her way up to the first-floor landing and the master bedroom. She undressed, chucking her evening clothes onto a chair by her dressing table; she’d hang them up in the morning. She placed anything she wanted washed into the white laundry bags hanging on a knob of one of the long rows of wardrobe doors. Naked, she walked into her en-suite bathroom, cleaned her teeth and removed her makeup with cleansing cream.

  Returning to the huge master bedroom she picked up her nightdress that had been left folded on her king-size four-poster. Getting into bed with just a small bedside light switched on, she drew the duvet around herself and reached for the TV remote. The big plasma screen lit up as she nestled down, flicking from channel to channel, but nothing appealed. She switched to a re-run of Law & Order but had already seen it, so she turned off the TV and lay back on her huge pile of frilled white pillows. It was the first time she felt lonely. It was not that she wanted Marcus to be beside her, because she truthfully didn’t, it was more an overpowering feeling of being totally alone. She closed her eyes. There were all the staff she knew so well at all of her successful business ventures, and yet none of them had ever become in any way a friend; none had ever even been invited back to the house.

  She left the bedside light on, because she didn’t feel sleepy – in fact, the opposite. Her mind was still buzzing, replaying the entire course of the dinner party: the many compliments she had received on her new slim self, her dress, her hair, even the many implications that she must have found someone to replace Marcus, although the truth was she had not even contemplated a new relationship. She had not even been looking to find a replacement, toy boy or not.

  Knowing sleep was refusing to come, she reached up to her bedside cabinet for one of the various bottles of sleeping pills. She opened the top and inched out half of a tablet. She usually used them only when business deals had made her restless. She sipped from the bottle of water on her bedside table and swallowed the Ambien half, then replaced the small plastic container. She had got them years ago, when they had been in the US on a Disney World holiday, and she had been unable to sleep due to the time zone difference. Marcus had in actual fact got them for her. He was in her mind yet again, and now she thought about the meeting scheduled for ten on the Monday morning. He had suggested she find a divorce lawyer as he had felt it was time they confirmed that there was no possibility of them being reunited. She had agreed and engaged Charles Henshaw, a divorce solicitor, to represent her.

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p; Lena had had only one brief phone call and meeting with Mr Henshaw, who was very pleasant and had a quiet unassuming demeanour. He had asked if the divorce was on a friendly footing, and she had said confidently that it was, and doubted there would be any animosity. Henshaw said that a ‘Collaborative Divorce’ meeting with Marcus and his solicitor would be the best way forward so they could reach an amicable agreement without going to court. There was no issue of custody as they had made arrangements for Amy to spend time with each of them. Lena did, however, point out that she paid for her daughter’s education and had been the main breadwinner throughout their entire marriage. Mr Henshaw had enquired about the house and Lena had made it clear that she had maintained the property, and paid the mortgage throughout their marriage, and could see no problems with continuing to live there. Furthermore, at no time had Marcus even brought up altering the living arrangements as it was obviously their daughter’s and her own main home. It was also her main place of work. Henshaw cautioned that it was to be a meeting to discuss how the divorce would proceed, and until they were privy to what Marcus’s wishes were, he advised that she should allow him to broach the subject. To date, he had not been given any more details. The only information he had been able to ascertain was that, like herself, Marcus had acquired a divorce lawyer, a Mr Jacob Lyons, who would also attend the meeting.

  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, an
d 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.