Chapter 11

Arthur rang Angela the following morning. "Presumably you want to seek divorce on the grounds of adultery."

"Yes, Daddy."

"In that case I suggest you move out. Has he ever knocked you about?"

"No but I wouldn't put it past him."

"You definitely ought to move out."

"Not until after next week. It's half term."

"Can you maintain a façade?"

"No change," she replied bitterly.

"Right, Poppet, I can't act for you myself, conflict of interest, but I'll see if Henry Honey's got someone available. I suggest you move out on Tuesday week which would allow you to do some covert packing the day before. I'll arrange that your solicitors will send Clive a letter at home advising him that you are seeking divorce, do not wish him to contact you directly and should do so only through them. You can leave the letter for him to find when he gets home that evening. You'll come to us of course."

"Yes please and thanks, Daddy."

"Look after yourself, Angela, and don't hesitate to come sooner if things become too difficult."

"Thanks, Daddy. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Poppet."

He rang later to say that Henry Honey had appointed Isobel du Puys to act for her and had agreed with his plan.

Half term was bittersweet for Angela. Clive was much too busy to be at home during the week which was wonderful for her, having the children on their own. She wanted to tell them what she planned to do but realised that the second weekend would be strained and unnatural. She wondered unhappily if custody arrangements would be in place in time for the school holidays in five weeks' time. She gritted her teeth when Clive dominated proceedings over the weekends.

She did no packing on the Monday. Tuesday morning would be ample time and she did not wish Clive to notice anything unusual. She did however write to her bank, do some food shopping to see Clive to the weekend and write to various people, mostly close friends, to give her new address.

The letter duly arrived on the Tuesday morning and Angela left it with others on the hall table for Clive's return home. She had a light lunch and had left the house by two with three large suitcases in the car.

A miserable hour later she drew up outside her parents' house. Pauline embraced her silently; they had spoken on the telephone in the previous weeks. They carried her suitcases into the hall but, at Pauline's insistence, left them for Arthur to take upstairs later. Pauline forced her to go for a walk with her and the dogs.

"You need fresh air and exercise in these situations," she said briskly, "otherwise you'll just sit around in the glums."

She was right. Angela did cheer up.

Clive was surprised to find the house in darkness when he returned home but surmised that Angela was playing Bridge and had forgotten to tell him. He scooped the mail off the hall table and went into the kitchen tossing it on the table as he went to pour himself a drink. There was the usual junk mail but there was one addressed properly for a change. He took a sip of his drink and opened it.

His immediate reaction was of shock. His amenable wife had told him that she was going to divorce him. It was almost unbelievable. He read on and was horrified that his liaison with Karolina was the cause. How could Angela have known? This could have serious repercussions. His mood changed to fury. The bitch must have been spying on him. How dare she! Aided and abetted by her bloody parents. They had never liked him. He knew that. That was where she would be too. He seized the telephone and dialled their number.

"Hello?"

"Arthur? Clive. May I speak to Angela?"

"No! She doesn't wish to speak to you and the letter from her solicitor states quite clearly that any contact with her is to be through them."

"She's my wife."

"Your estranged wife."

The telephone went down.

Clive stared at his handset in fury before hurling it across the room. Slowly his mind clicked back in.

News of the divorce would get out. He could not stop that. He needed to keep the real reason quiet though because it could damage his career. The trouble was that the Fosters were friends of the Nugents so it was bound to reach Sir Nigel. On the other hand, since they were so intimate they would also be told that the marriage had been dying for some while. He did not think that Sir Nigel would hold it against him as a virile man to relieve his sexual frustration with a prostitute.

The settlement might prove a problem but he would have to see what Angela was going to ask for. He was not going to make a song and dance about the children. She could have custody and he would only want minimal contact with them. He had not got the time or the inclination to have to look after them or organise things for them. He wondered whether she would raise the boarding school thing again. It would certainly be less of a financial burden if they did not go on to private secondary schools. Eton and Marlborough were extremely expensive. He had no idea whether either of the children was scholarship material. He had never done more than skim their end of term reports.

The good thing was that he would soon be free and able to devote more time to wooing Briony. The trouble was that she had not seemed much impressed with his advances, still besotted with Tom. He was the stumbling block. Trying to pair him off with Susie was clearly not going to go anywhere. In fact, trying to pair him off with anyone was unlikely to succeed.

The first thing though was to get himself a solicitor and get him to reply to this Mrs du Puys. He clearly could not use Barnes and Honey who would have been his first choice. He looked other firms up in the Yellow Pages and jotted them down to ring in the morning.

It was only then that he realised he was going to have to cook his own supper. He looked in the fridge. There were four single ready meals. Angela had clearly planned this desertion but at least she had catered for him until he could do his own shopping at the weekend.

His mind went back to how he might frame Tom. It would obviously cost money. How on earth could he do it though? Tom went dutifully home to Briony every night and was never going to be in a position where a girl could get at him. He wondered whether he could find someone who would be able to film Tom and Briony making love and then superimpose some other girl's head on it. The trouble with that was they would recognise their own bedroom and he would never know when they were going to be away for it to 'happen'.