‘But this is also about trust,’ I say, and pull the annoying pencil from her hand.
‘Trust is best expressed via a non-returnable deposit,’ she says, and grabs it back.
‘Have you shown it to anyone else?’ I move my hand towards her and she pulls back.
‘I have four viewings booked for next weekend, but this is what I’ll do for you. If the other two hundred thousand is transferred by Friday, close of play, I’ll cancel those viewings.’ She gently strokes her lips with the end of the pencil.
‘What if I were to feather the nest?’ I say. ‘Would that extend the timeline? I just need a few more days. How does ten thousand pounds sound?’
‘It sounds like a financial inducement to perform my duties improperly, but I’d hate to think that you were trying to bribe me.’
‘Not a bribe, a downpayment,’ I suggest.
‘I don’t need to be a criminal, Mrs Rook. Selling houses is more profitable than that.’
‘Then I’ll have the two hundred thousand in your account by Friday,’ I say, standing up. I’m about to leave the office, but I can’t. I turn, walk across, grab her pencil, snap it, and put it on her desk.
I walk down Hampstead High Street feeling better. Three people have already viewed our house while Stephen was visiting his sick mother, so that’s one positive. But how do I get two hundred thousand pounds in five days? I’ve already cleared out our savings, and even if Stephen’s mother dies, fingers crossed, probate will take forever.
After dealing with one blood-sucking vampire, I visit another. Divorce lawyers are smart creatures. I can see from the look in her eyes that she’s excited because I’ve dressed to look bothpowerful and wealthy. Divorce lawyers can smell money and I need someone keen enough to provide free advice.
‘My husband and I have been married for seven years and have two children and a house in North London,’ I say as she stares at me with cold, calculating eyes. ‘He’s an investment banker. His family are wealthy. His father died recently and his mother’s just had a stroke. I don’t know the prognosis but I’m hopeful. I’m hoping to explore the best options, financially speaking.’
‘May I ask the general cause of the breakdown of your relationship?’ she says, pressing the fingers of her hands together to make a pyramid.
‘What do you mean, exactly?’
‘Is it adultery, unreasonable behaviour, or has the marriage just broken down irretrievably?’
‘None of the above,’ I say. ‘I rather like him, actually, which still surprises me.’
‘But you want a divorce?’ she says, somewhat idiotically, given her specialism.
‘Advice, in the first instance, about a small issue, which is probably quite unusual.’
‘It’s often the case. There are rarely simple cases when unravelling two lives,’ she says, and swivels quite dramatically on her chair.
‘Three lives, actually. I’ve been married before. My first husband died in a tragic climbing accident, or so I thought. I have just discovered that he is alive and well.’
Her eyes widen.
‘Officially, I’m a bigamist, I suppose, but it’s not intentional. Who would burden themselves with two incompetent men when one is often too many?’
‘That does muddy the waters of divorce proceedings slightly,’ she says, and takes a sip from her glass of water.
‘How slightly?’
‘Well,’ she says and eyes me slyly. ‘I presume that you had good reason to believe your husband was dead.’
‘He fell into a ravine in the Alps. His chances of survival were minimal.’
‘And was he unable to find you, once he did survive?’
‘I changed my name.’
‘And does your current husband know about this previous marriage and the accident?’
‘Absolutely not.’
