The Younger Man Read Online Free Page B

e-mails and text messages. The slut.’
    I don’t interrupt. As a woman and as a divorce lawyer I know there are always two stories to be told. People have affairs because they are unhappy. Because they are restless and bored and selfish. She may have been any one or all of these things. It’s that simple. But I say nothing. It is not my place or my remit to speak. Mrs Benson’s counsel will do that for her in court if it gets that far. I let Mr Benson vent his fury. Better out than in. Better here than in court.
    ‘I sent her on loads of cookery courses and she couldn’t cook a fucking thing. She brought fuck all to the marriage. Fucking bitch. Ugly fucking bitch. I fucking hate her. I don’t want to give her a single fucking penny.’
    I smile because all my male clients mention their wives’ lack of culinary skills when they start to rant, as though they expect me to mention it in court.
    ‘And please can I raise, m’lord, to your attention, the fact that Mrs Benson failed to cook spotted dick for myclient on the days he required. Failed consistently to prepare pasta in the correct way, with the right sauce. And made, in the words of my client “a lousy cup of tea.”
    As though it’s a big deal. It obviously is to them. The way to a man’s heart may not be through his stomach, but it certainly miffs him if his wife doesn’t cook. My male clients consistently talk as if it’s right up there with drug problems and emotional cruelty. Suppose it is to them.
    ‘Yes, I realise that, Mr Benson. Unfortunately, or fortunately I should say, you have two children from your marriage, and you have to support these children and your wife, whether your wife was a good cook or not. She did, in the eyes of the law, support you, and you did, according to my notes, make most of your income and acquire most of your assets—in fact you acquired all of your assets—during the seven-year marriage. So she has supported you during this time as far as the law is concerned, and brought up your children and helped you to become as successful as you are.’
    ‘Fuck that fuck that fuck that. She has a fucking nanny to take care of the kids. She fucking lunches and does her fucking nails and gets her fucking bikini line waxed. She does fuck all.’
    I cross my legs at the mention of bikini wax, feeling for some reason, guilty. As though a finger is pointing at me. Perhaps it’s just my arrow.
    ‘Yes, Mr Benson, in the settlement her lawyers will take that into account and probably expect you to continue to pay for the waxing and lunches as well. The waythe law stands you will have to maintain her standard of living or one similar to it. From what I see, her demands are reasonable.’
    I can sense Benson is starting to pace again. I can hear him counting in two three out two three, in two three out two three, under his breath. He’s trying to calm himself down, which is good and I wait until the rage has passed.
    ‘Are you okay now, Mr Benson?’
    ‘Yes, please continue.’
    So I do. ‘Think of the long-term goals, Mr Benson. Think of the good of your children. It is better you have as little acrimony in the divorce as possible because you will have to maintain contact with your ex-wife because of your children. I suggest you offer the matrimonial home, as your wife will more than likely have custody of the children. But you will probably be able to keep the house in Italy. This all depends on the scale of your financial assets, which I believe are considerable. Your wife is not asking for the Italian home and is in fact asking for much less than she is entitled to, Mr Benson. You do realise that, don’t you?’
    Benson is silent, although I can hear him muttering about ‘bitch a penny,’ and then speaks in a much calmer but no less emotional voice.
    ‘Can I see the children when I want to?’
    ‘The norm is every other weekend, perhaps one evening a week and two to three weeks’ holiday during the year.’
    ‘Is that