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A sulky smile tugged at her mother’s glossy lips. ‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’
Beth went over to the door. ‘I need to get back to work now, Mum. I’ll make some enquiries and pop over tonight to discuss them. How does that sound? Maybe we could have a bite to eat? That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?’
Her mother reluctantly got up. ‘It would be nicer if my daughter showed her mother some loyalty.’ Connie Lawrence sure knew how to land a blow.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ Beth opened the door and kissed her. ‘Try not to worry. I’ll find someone suitable.’
‘Good.’ She patted Beth’s cheek. ‘Because I intend to take that bastard for everything he’s got!’ she shouted, ensuring that if her dad was in his office he’d hear.
Beth rubbed her ringing ear. ‘Bye, Mum. See you later.’
Connie Lawrence walked off, her shoulders dropping, weighed down by the grief of her marriage imploding. It was tragic to watch such a formidable woman rendered so fragile.
‘Arsehole!’ her mum yelled at the portrait of her father in reception, giving him the finger. Not so fragile, then.
The front door slammed, followed by a ringing silence. Her mum disappeared down the steps onto the High Street, no doubt still calling her dad a few names and smouldering at the unfairness of it all.
Her father’s office door opened a crack. ‘Has she gone?’
Beth leant against the doorframe. ‘She’s gone. It’s safe to come out.’
‘I thought she might have calmed down by now,’ he said, peering out, not quite convinced his estranged wife wasn’t about to return and dismember him. ‘It’s been months. It’s not reasonable for her to still be so angry.’
Beth shot him a look. ‘Don’t play the victim with me, Dad. Mum has every right to be angry. You cheated on her. You left her for a woman younger than your kids, and now you’re divorcing her. You can’t possibly be shocked that she’s pissed off with you.’
‘We’d been unhappy for a while,’ he said, defensively. ‘It takes two people to end a marriage.’
‘Yeah, but Mum wasn’t one of the two people, was she, Dad?’ She pointed a finger. ‘And don’t give me all that crap about “we’d been unhappy for a while”. That’s what every disgruntled husband says when he’s trying to justify leaving his wife.’
‘Well, on this occasion it’s true.’
‘Really?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘So you told Mum you were unhappy, did you? You sat her down and confessed your feelings and made a concerted effort to resolve the problems in your marriage before you ran off with Tiffany?’
Her dad fiddled with his cufflinks.
Just as she thought.
‘She knew I was unhappy.’
‘Bullshit. She had no idea. And neither did us kids.’
Her father’s expression turned belligerent. ‘You’re taking her side then?’
Beth held up her hands. ‘I’m remaining neutral. As neutral as I can be, anyway. But if you think I approve of your behaviour, then think again. You’re acting like a jerk, Dad.’
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by his phone pinging. His cheeks coloured as he read the message, his brown eyes widening with schoolboy delight.
Kenneth Lawrence had also aged well. He was fit for his sixty-five years, and with his dimpled smile and silver wavy hair swept off his tanned face, he resembled a suave Don Johnson. Unfortunately, a younger woman telling him as much had rather inflated his ego. Hence the current mayhem.
‘I need to go out. Er… an urgent client meeting,’ he said, running a finger around his shirt collar, no doubt relieving the sudden heat he felt at receiving such a message.
Client, her arse.
‘I’ll be back later,’ he called out. He grabbed his keys and disappeared from the building, leaving his office door wide open. ‘Take any messages, will you?’
‘I’m not your secretary!’ she called after him, aggrieved at being left holding the fort again, but her complaint fell on deaf ears.
Infuriated, Beth watched him leave, his smitten-schoolboy behaviour at odds with his cut-throat business persona. He was a tyrant when it came to negotiating a settlement, with a reputation for ‘hiding assets’ and securing much lower alimonies for his clients than was fair. In contrast, Beth liked to fight for the underdog. Her clients tended to be the injured party, belittled individuals who’d been shafted by their supposed loved ones and deserved more than the meagre pittance they were being offered. It was hugely rewarding when she won, but the work didn’t do a lot to improve her opinions regarding love.
