Monday 7th July
It was Monday afternoon and as the long, dark, chauffeur-driven car sped through the London traffic away from her office in the City, Lucinda, or to use her full name, Lady Lucinda Estelle Spencer, was once again convinced that she had made a mistake in her marriage.
After spending another strained weekend with her husband, for her, the start of the working week had been a relief.
Five years into what was supposed to have been wedded bliss, she now realised that marrying a man ‘below her station’ as her Grandmother would have put it, had not been a good idea. However good looking, charming and at the time, world famous her husband had once been, when it came down to married life, they simply had too little in common.
At first, they had been the golden couple everyone wanted to read about and be seen with. Lady Lucinda, the daughter of a Duke, had been a B-list debutante, her presence at parties mentioned if not featured in society magazines and she was always invited to all the right places at all the right times.
She was society news, if not on the front page.
She had met the gorgeous Peter Mountfield at a party held by one of her oldest friends in her family’s country house and they had fallen for each other almost immediately. As one of the foremost rugby football players in the England squad and tipped for the captaincy one day, Peter had already achieved A-list status and, thanks to several lucrative product endorsement deals, was a celebrity even in Lucinda’s world.
Despite her aristocratic background and his sturdy, middle-class roots, she had been dazzled by this strong, handsome, world-famous man and had all but stalked him throughout the evening until he finally had no choice but to notice her.
Lucinda herself was a tall, willowy brunette with perfect manners, a noble bearing and an innate sense of style that could bring extra life even to a Lagerfeld dress. Despite, or perhaps because of her slightly supercilious demeanour, she was impossible to ignore and, once he had spotted her, she knew it would only take her a few minutes to captivate what she believed was a very attractive but not-very-bright sportsman.
It was a miscalculation; Lucinda had completely underestimated the effect Peter’s presence and muscular body would have on her in return. Instead of the encounter being the start of a few weeks’ well-publicised wooing as she had intended, before she realised what was happening, he quickly and efficiently seduced her and bedded her noisily and comprehensively in his nearby hotel room that very evening.
She had foolishly underestimated the stamina of an international athlete like Peter too; they had spent the entire night and most of the next day in bed making passionate, almost violent love until she had finally fallen asleep, tired and drained but for the first time in her life, truly satisfied sexually.
When Peter had eventually driven her home to her family estate late the following afternoon, she had been dishevelled and exhausted, a fact that did not go unnoticed by her family and the society press as the following month’s headlines shouted to the world.
So had their relationship begun, very much in the public eye.
Lucinda’s father had himself been a rugby player of some standing and had approved of his daughter’s choice of boyfriend, though not without some misgivings. Hugo, a shrewd and able businessman as well as an undoubted aristocrat, had inherited both his title and a large property portfolio from his uncle. The business had blossomed under his expert care and he was now considered one of the fifty richest men in Britain.
His daughter Lucinda was a bright girl as well as a highly attractive one. Unlike her mother and so many of her former school friends - the clothes-horses as she rather cruelly called them - she had a real and worthwhile job. True, she ‘worked for Daddy’ in his property business but her role in the Commercial Department was real and demanding. Like her father, she was damned good at it too and had proved herself over the past few years even to her most cynical colleagues. Although she could often be high-handed and condescending, her judgement was unimpeachable and it was an open secret that her father intended her to take over the business as he approached retirement.
As the older child, she would probably inherit everything after his death too.
Lady Lucinda stared out of the car’s darkened rear window at the familiar London streets as they whizzed past and sighed; if only her marriage to Peter had been going as well as her business.
There had been another argument that morning over breakfast to add to the many that now routinely marred their married life. The Kensington apartment they had lived in for the last three years was beautiful and had even featured in one of the glossy society magazines, but was a place of torment for her now. Ever since the back injury two years ago that had cost her husband his sporting career, his fame and his sponsorship income, her life had been unbearable.
To the outside world, they were still the golden couple but within their own little world, the tensions were running high. Why Peter couldn’t be content living off her considerable income was a mystery; after all, she made more than enough to keep them both in the height of luxury for the rest of their lives, even without the trust fund her father had set up for her.
Why did he have to be so fiercely independent?
And what was wrong with people feeling pity for him? Pity had showered down on Peter after his career-ending injury but even then he didn’t seem happy. Why he had to have this stupid ‘macho’ mentality about being ‘the man of the house’ was beyond her.
No, Peter had insisted on making use of his much-neglected degree and had joined his own family’s law firm in Southampton. As a job, this hardly fitted in with her intended A-list lifestyle. It also meant working long hours and being available twenty-four-seven which was bad enough for Lucinda, but what was much worse was that it required him to mix with the seedier side of the Hampshire population. He had little time now to be with the society crowd and her former celebrity friends who now seemed increasingly to ignore the two of them when planning parties.
As far as Lucinda was concerned, Peter had become unpleasant, grumpy, bad tempered, sex-obsessed and a bore.
She knew that he increasingly thought of her as an over-privileged, workaholic, status-obsessed Daddy’s girl who was rapidly becoming frigid.
The last problem wasn’t helped by the fact that Lucinda had lost interest in sex with him less than two years after their wedding. Even now she couldn’t be sure why; maybe the pain brought about by his extraordinarily large erection had played a part – certainly she had always been very tight ‘down there’ - but whatever the cause, their love life had been sporadic at best for three years and, as she drove to work that morning, they had not made love for over three months.
Having Victoria, Peter’s young, slim, blonde, moderately attractive paralegal PA to compare her with every working day hadn’t helped. The girl simply worshipped her employer in a way Lucinda found unhealthy; even nauseating but which her husband didn’t even seem to understand.
From her husband’s body language on the few occasions the two had been working in Lucinda and Peter’s apartment, she didn’t think the two of them were sleeping together. But from the adoring expression on the silly girl’s face when she looked at him, all Peter would have to do was snap his fingers and she would jump into his bed.
Peter was still incredibly handsome and she knew she was still stunningly attractive, but something wasn’t working between them for some time now she had been considering cutting her losses and had been talking to her lawyers about a divorce.
Nobody but Lucinda knew this yet; she had drafted the letter of explanation and instruction to a top family law firm two weeks ago. It was saved on her PC; she had amended it a dozen times since but hadn’t yet made the final decision to send it.
This morning’s row had made up her mind though. Peter had been beastly, just because her old school friend Helen and her husband Nigel were coming to stay. Peter considered Helen to be vacuous and superficial and had never liked Nigel, accusing him of having tried to seduce Lucinda several times in the past.
This last accusation was true, Lucinda had to admit but as she had told him many times, Peter had never understood the dynamic of the aristocracy where so many marriages were still arranged based on necessity rather than love. As a result, affairs were commonplace, particularly once the wife had provided the obligatory two sons; the ‘heir and a spare’ as they were jokingly referred to.
In the hunting fraternity, it was normal to try and seduce other men’s wives from time to time; indeed, in some circles, it was almost an insult if you did not at least make an attempt. The constant and delicious rubbing of the saddle against a girl’s inner thighs during the day provided would be Lotharios with such a head-start that, come the evening, their adulterous approaches were frequently successful.
But that did not mean the intended victim had to mildly let herself – or in some cases himself - be bedded just out of politeness. Tempted though she had been, Lucinda had remained faithful throughout their marriage.
No, the problem was Peter. Peter was an ignorant, jealous, overbearing pig - but then that’s what happens when you marry out of your class. She had yelled those words at him that very morning. Of course, at this point, the row had really got going and when she had stormed out of the apartment ten minutes later, she had been determined to put an end to whole sordid mess that her marriage had become.
Since then, it seemed as if everything had conspired against her. She was having a ridiculously busy day. The unexpectedly large mass of paperwork she had ploughed through in her office that morning was now to be followed by an unexpected and unwanted visit to a development they were building in Hampshire. The traffic was terrible, the air conditioning in her car had failed, the trousers of the suits she habitually wore were creased and she had a headache.
Even her home had been against her. The TV had been flickering badly for days, as had the screen on her laptop. The PC in her office had been playing up recently too, giving her a constant headache.
Why was all her technology irritating her? It didn’t use to!
No, things were not going smoothly. What was more, it was time to give the Site Manager a piece of her mind. In her current bad temper, this suited her well; the self-important, sexist, misogynist pig wouldn’t know what had hit him.
After that, she would go home, print off the letter to the solicitors, post it and divorce proceedings would start.
Two ignorant men dealt with in the same day; that would be a result and no mistake. Tomorrow she would feel better; she might even take out the grey mare for a couple of hours on the downs.
Lucinda smiled when she thought of the look on her husband’s face when the solicitor’s letter arrived. She wished she could be there to see it but that would be very bad form. Let him have his miserable surprise on his own.
The much debated and resented pre-nuptial agreement that her lawyers had insisted on would help ensure her soon-to-be-ex-husband did not leave the marriage too well off. This would be a shock to him too but the thought gave her some kind of satisfaction. Her family would be disappointed though; they had always loved Peter though God knows why. Still, it would be a pity to disappoint them; Lucinda really did care for her father and in most respects, took after him rather than her mother Caroline, who she considered to be something of a blonde bimbo obsessed with clothes.
At least they had been discreet; both Peter and Lucinda had been very careful not to let anyone suspect that their marriage was coming apart at the seams. Her father still genuinely liked and respected her husband but her mind was made up; it was time to be single again while she was still young enough to enjoy it. She was certainly rich enough!
Thank God they hadn’t had any children!
Of course, that had been another big dispute between them; Peter had wanted kids badly, she had wanted to pursue both her sparkling career and her glamorous lifestyle with passion.
Before things between them had become this bad, Lucinda had reluctantly accepted that she would have to produce an heir at some stage, if only to please her own family. But when that finally happened, the child would have to be brought up by the paid help.
There would be no baby goo-goo noises; no messy, undignified breast-feeding for Lady Lucinda.
She would make sure she recovered her figure very quickly too and maybe even let herself be interviewed for one of the society magazines. But there would be no babies now, least of all with her current husband in her current marriage.
Being single again was a good life plan; she was still young enough and good-looking enough to find a new, more compliant husband from her own class; someone who understood how the upper echelons of society worked.
Now she had finally made the decision, Lucinda felt pleased with herself.
Meanwhile, Peter would be out of her hair for two full weeks on his latest uninteresting, trivial court case. Two weeks to get her work life in order; two weeks to start divorce proceedings; two weeks make sure she was, as always, in complete control of her life.
It was late when the Mercedes swung smoothly into the entrance to the half-built Business Park and pulled to a halt outside the large, multi-storey Portakabin building which contained the site offices. It was time to bang a few heads together on this project, she thought angrily, and she was in the right mood to do it, especially after that morning’s row.
Indeed she had been so angry when she stormed out of the apartment, that she had stupidly left her mobile phone somewhere too. Bloody Peter! It might only be on the kitchen table but there was no way she was going to call her stupid peasant of a husband to find out, not after the row they had endured.
Still, it was yet another inconvenience; another way the world was getting at her that day; another good reason for giving that chauvinist bastard of a Site Manager a piece of her mind
She was bang on time for the meeting. Lucinda couldn’t abide lateness. She looked briefly at the back of her driver’s head as he stepped out of the car to open the door for her. Richard had been with her for three years; thank God for at least one reliable man, she said to herself as she stormed into the meeting room, metaphorical guns blazing.
***
It was getting dark by the time the meeting ended, but it had been worth it, Lucinda thought as she washed her hands in the Ladies’ room. She had shown those men who were in charge!
It had given her great pleasure to take Brian Bloody Barlow, the Site Manager, down a peg or two; to remind him just who worked for whom in this business.
She smiled; it would be a long time before he called any woman ‘my dear’ again.
It had been particularly pleasing to watch him realise that his muscles and bravado had no effect on her. However impressive his physique and self-confidence unquestionably were; however intimidated she had felt inside, Lucinda was sure that, on the outside, she had appeared unintimidated and in control.
Things would move back into line now. One man down, time for the next, she told herself as she swept out of the door and into the cool evening air. Time to get home and get the letter off to her Solicitors; time to start the divorce. Meanwhile, she had an hour’s drive in which she could get herself organised.
Where was Richard? Ah! There was the car, just pulling over now.
She slipped her briefcase under her arm as she pulled open the back door and stepped into the limousine with a grace her Grandmother would have been proud of. She smiled; Grandmama would most certainly not have approved of the trousers Lucinda habitually wore every day to work but she had not been averse to putting the lower orders in their place when it was needed.
“Take me home, Richard!”
She sat back in the deep rear seat and sighed heavily; why did so many men let her down? Only her father had never disappointed her; she must make sure she never let him down in return.
Lucinda snapped open her expensive laptop and watched it quickly boot up.
Bloody hell! The screen was flickering again. She tried to ignore it and got on with her work, slipping on a pair of even more expensive headphones, frowning at the soft buzzing in her ears.
***
“We’re here, Lady Lucinda,” a voice in her ear brought her to her senses.
“What? Already?”
“Yes, Lady Lucinda. We have arrived at your apartment.”
Lucinda looked at the open laptop in front of her. Its screen was bright but there was no evidence of her having done any recent work. Had she fallen asleep for the whole journey? She must have but that wasn’t like her!
She carefully took off the headphones from which no sound was now emerging.
Lucinda had never fallen asleep in the car before. She cursed herself; what a waste of time – time she could have used to... what was it she was going to do? She shook her head angrily at her unprofessionalism, closed the laptop, put the headphones in her briefcase and, thanking Richard politely, took the elevator to her apartment.
There was no sign of her husband; his bedroom door was closed so she went straight to the study to make up for the time she had unaccountably lost on the journey home. She booted up the over-sized desktop and opened both her e-mail account and the link through to her office.
She swore under her breath. This screen had that annoying flicker too.
Wednesday 9th July
Lucinda rose early that Wednesday morning, determined to make up for the time she had lost the previous night. After Monday’s wasted evening there was even more work to do but circumstances had conspired to prevent her catching up on Tuesday too.
First, her alarm had failed to wake her, though it was still buzzing when she finally did open her eyes an hour late. She had another dull headache. The apartment’s TV seemed to be playing up too; the screen flickered as annoyingly as her laptop had done the night before.
Throughout the day there had been annoyances; first, her desktop screen had started flickering, then her mobile phone seemed to have some kind of white noise playing in the background whenever she made or answered a call.
Why didn’t technology ever work properly?
But the site meeting had been the biggest annoyance of all. Those bloody men with their cave-man attitudes to women! She could out-work, out-smart and, she thought, probably out-fight them too if it came to that but did they give her the respect she deserved? Did they Hell!
Still, no-one had ever said that being a Senior Manager in the world of construction would be an easy job for a woman to hold, even if she was the Boss’ daughter.
She had eaten dinner with her father in a local restaurant with the intention of working late into Tuesday evening but this had fallen foul of events too. Not only had she fallen asleep in the car on her way home but she had dozed off at her desk in the study, waking after midnight with the screen in front of her glowing softly and the room cold and dark.
She had gone to bed angry with herself and determined to get up early the following day.
Things began to look better when the alarm did wake her as planned at five o’clock on Wednesday morning. Lucinda showered quickly in her en-suite bathroom, pulled on her underwear and robe then sat at her computer which was linked to her office desktop.
There were so many emails that her headache came back with a vengeance, but she poured an extra cup of really strong coffee to keep herself awake and glowered at the screen. The annoying flicker was still there but it was much less noticeable now.
Two more cups of coffee and nearly an hour’s work later, the clock announced it was almost time for her driver Richard to arrive and take her to work.
Time to get dressed, she thought. Lucinda went to her walk-in closet and stared angrily into at the rows of hangers.
Trousers! Trousers, Trousers! Nothing but trousers! Did they think she was a man for Christ’s sake? Where were her work skirts?
Ah! There they were. She had always preferred skirts so why did she own so many trousers? She would get rid of them at the weekend, meanwhile why should she deny her femininity just because she worked in a male-dominated industry’?
Skirts it would be from now on – that would show those chauvinistic bastards who was in charge!
Thirty minutes later and wearing a smart suit with a slim-fitting pencil skirt, tights and low-heeled court shoes, Lucinda wriggled awkwardly into the back of her chauffeur-driven limousine and entered the London traffic ready for a good solid day’s work.
But it was not to be! Wednesday was to be as full of annoyances as Tuesday and what’s more, seemed to drag on endlessly.
The project was undeniably behind schedule but after the dressing down she had given him yesterday, the Site Manager Brian Bloody Barlow was finally showing signs of bringing it back into line. If only she didn’t have to put up with his archaic, chauvinistic attitude! Still, if he got the job done she would perhaps take a more lenient line – but only until the project was finished!
Bloody men! Lucinda thought. She needed fewer of them in her life!
She had tried three times to complete the letter to her solicitors instructing them to start divorce proceedings against her husband Peter, but every time she had called up the letter on her laptop – cursing its still-flickering screen – she had become distracted and had finally abandoned the idea.
When she finally got home, leaning back on her sofa with a gin and tonic in her hand and the BBC News playing on the softly flickering wall-mounted TV screen, Lucinda reflected on her day.
It hadn’t been all bad; she had been very surprised how much better she had felt about herself now that she had abandoned her trousers in favour of a skirt. Of course, she should have realised this long ago. Trying to beat the men at their own game was futile; they had a lifetime of experience playing macho.
No, using femininity to her advantage was a much better idea, and one with which they could not directly compete. Besides, she had felt more comfortable in her softer, more feminine attire and the attitude of her female subordinates had improved considerably, once they had got used to her new appearance.
Yes, the skirts were here to say. Once the TV news was finished she would bundle up her unflattering trousers and leave them for one of the charity shops to collect.
Now to finish that letter about the divorce… Where was her laptop?
Bloody Hell! The screen was flickering again. She couldn’t write anything as important as the divorce letter on a useless piece of junk like that. She would get that other useless piece of junk - the spotty IT nerd at the office, whatever his name was - to look at it tomorrow.
Then she would finish the letter and start moving Peter out of her life!
Thursday 10th July
The alarm roused Lucinda from a troubled sleep in which images of her husband, Victoria his worshipping PA, the nerdy IT expert Alan Reid and Brian Bloody Barlow had been interspersed with deeply vivid images of her having sex with them all in many positions and combinations. The one constant theme apart from the disturbing content of the dreams was the permanent state of arousal in which she had found herself every time she woke in the night.
Contrary to all her normal weekday behaviour, she had been driven to masturbate herself to orgasm three times simply in order to drive the nightmares from her mind.
Now, tired and achy, she turned on the TV morning news on the bedroom screen. After a few seconds, the reporter’s face appeared but that irritating flickering was still there and once again, there seemed to be a strange background noise behind the woman’s voice.
She cursed and turned up the volume while she put the kettle on then showered, feeling the life force slowly re-enter her body. A slice of toast later and she felt almost herself again. There was no way she would take any time off sick in any circumstances so she steeled herself to get on with her day.
As she crossed to her closet, pulled out her clothes for the day then, catching sight of herself in the full-length mirrors, Lucinda took stock of her appearance. Her figure was quite nice; a bit flat chested perhaps but still slim and fit-looking. All that horse riding was good for the buttocks, she smiled wryly.
So if it wasn’t her body, what was it that was niggling at her? What was it that was still making feel uncomfortable?
Yesterday’s site meeting had gone quite well; she hadn’t bothered to put Brian Bloody Barlow in his place again despite him calling her ‘love’ and patting her on the hand several times.
If he did it again tomorrow though, there would be trouble.
Maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault though; maybe there was something about her that made him behave in that awful, sexist way. She looked at herself in the mirror and her clothes on the bed. Smart white blouse, hair still tied back and under control, dark tights and her knee length, pencil skirt.
That skirt! That was it; that damned skirt!
She frowned angrily and riffled through the hangers in her closet. All her skirts were the same; look at the length! How could she have been so unthinking, wearing skirts so long that they were almost at her knees?
For God’s sake, Lucinda, you can worry about your legs when you are old. Right now, you need to be taken seriously at work. How can that happen if you dress like your Grandmother?
Not one of her skirts was short enough! Lucinda rummaged through the mass of hangers looking for something more appropriate. Too long! Too long! Much too long!
Nothing! No, wait!
There were a couple at the back she had forgotten about. She couldn’t remember buying them but there they were in her size in her closet so she must have bought them, mustn’t she?
She pulled them out. These were better; much better. Lucinda held one of them up against her waist. It came no more than half way down her thigh. She tried it on. It was black and pleated and fitted her perfectly, showing most of her leg.
Not too bad she thought, a bit like a school uniform but, in a way, quite business-like. It would have to do anyway, at least until she could buy something a bit shorter in the morning.
Cursing her misjudgement, she stuffed her long skirts into a bin liner then dressed, promising to go shopping on her way home tomorrow and get some really nice miniskirts.
***
“Peter?” she called out as she entered the apartment that evening.
It was late; after nine o’clock. Lucinda’s husband was supposed to be in Southampton on a case but as she opened the apartment’s front door Lucinda thought she could smell the expensive cologne he had so profitably advertised to the world until his accident had brought his fame to an end and with it, their A-list status.
She hoped it wasn’t him. Something was troubling her and the last thing she needed was a distraction like her soon-to-be-ex-husband around. Even so, she was a little surprised at the flash of disappointment that passed through her when there was no reply.
Lucinda shrugged; it had been a long and difficult day again and she had no time for silliness. After hanging up her coat and kicking off her shoes, she poured her usual large gin and tonic and went into the kitchen. There, she slammed a ready-meal into the oven and walked through into her bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable before pulling out her laptop and settling at the desk in the study she shared with her husband.
