The Man Who Forgot His Wife by John O'Farrell Page A

breakfast. Do you want any prawn balls?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘With sweet and sour sauce. And some special fried rice, though it’s a bit less special than it was a couple of days ago, to be honest.’
    The microwave gave out a beep and Gary bit into a reheated spring roll.
    ‘Er – no, thanks. What time is it?’
    ‘It’s getting on a bit, actually. You’re supposed to be in court in an hour – although you might want to iron the creases out of your face first.’
    Gary observed that I wasn’t as laid back as I used to be. He felt there was no need to run from the underground station to the court. ‘Relax, they’re not going to start without you, are they?’ I still had no idea just how bad a husband I had been. Thankfully, as I approached the courtroom steps there was no angry mob surging forward against police barricades, spitting and shouting, ‘Bastard!’ as a grey blanket was put over my head.
    ‘Vaughan! There you are!’ said a posh young man with a voice even louder than his tie. ‘I thought you wanted to meet a bit earlier?’
    ‘Are you Vaughan’s lawyer?’ said Gary. ‘We spoke on the phone yesterday.’
    ‘Yes, hello. So, Vaughan, according to your friend here you wanted to go through all the questions likely to come up in court, so that you know what you should say?’ He made this sound like a bizarre request.
    ‘Er, that’s right. Yes.’
    ‘
Again
,’ he said pointedly.
    ‘Again?’ I asked, without checking myself.
    ‘Well, that’s exactly what we did last time I saw you. And we’re not supposed to do that in any case.’
    ‘Er, Vaughan said that was incredibly useful,’ interjected Gary, ‘but when I was just doing a final, final rehearsal with him, it turned out that he was a little confused about one or two minor aspects of it, weren’t you, mate?’
    ‘I see,’ said the lawyer, opening his leather file. ‘We haven’t got long. Which particular areas would you like me to go over again?’
    I looked forlornly at Gary, hoping that he might have the words to answer this. He didn’t. ‘Well, the whole, general sort of area of the whole thing, really … you know. Getting divorced? That bit.’
    I found it difficult to concentrate when I was looking over his shoulder to see if I could spot Maddy coming in.
    ‘As I say, I’m afraid Mrs Vaughan is being incredibly unreasonable,’ commented the lawyer on one of the minor points of contention relating to our financial settlement.
    ‘Well, there are two sides to everything,’ I interjected. ‘I mean, her lawyer probably thinks I’m being incredibly unreasonable too.’
    He seemed to be pulled up short by this comment. ‘Well, Mr Vaughan, I must say you seem to have mellowed in your feelings somewhat.’
    Gary was anxious that my attitude did not arouse suspicions. ‘I think with the actual divorce so close, you’re already preparing for the next psychological stage, aren’t you, mate? Forgiveness, reconciliation, cooperation. It’s all in
Divorce for Dummies
.’
    ‘I haven’t read that one,’ said the lawyer. ‘I don’t think it was in the Bodleian.’
    The lawyer had never actually told us his name, so I found myself saying things like ‘what
our colleague
here is saying’; ‘going back to the earlier point made by
our esteemed lawyer friend
here’. Plus I was still looking out for the beautiful woman I was divorcing, and so the patter of unfamiliar legalese became just incidental background noise as I drifted in and out of concentration.
    ‘So you’re completely clear about the CETV?’ he said.
    ‘What? Oh, er, almost completely …’ I stuttered. ‘Will the judge ask me what that stands for?’
    ‘No! The Cash Equivalent Transfer Value is the valuation technique both parties have agreed to pursue with regard to the pension.’
    ‘I knew that …’
    ‘The difficulty being that Maddy is demanding half.’
    ‘Sounds reasonable,’ I commented cheerfully. His stunned silence went on for so long I was