Graham continued writing in his yellow notebook.
‘What is your husband’s position?’
‘He works. He has an IT consultancy business.’
‘Assets?’ asked Graham, beginning to sound like a robot.
‘We have a house with a mortgage. It’s in joint names. There’s some savings. Not much, although to be honest, I have no idea how much Nick has in his personal account. His business is doing pretty well, actually, so I imagine he might have quite a bit.’
‘How long has he had the business?’
‘He set it up a few months after we got married.’
‘Good.’
‘Good?’
Graham looked up from his frantic scribbling. ‘It means you’ll have a strong claim there.’
She felt a knot of guilt at that one. The business Nick had worked so hard to build up. The business that took him away from home so often. That took him to hotel rooms in the path of temptation . . .
‘Once we get the ball rolling, you will have to fill out some paperwork known as the Form E. We can work out the assets from there. Meanwhile, I believe you’re in the family home.’
Abby nodded. ‘I assume I can stay there.’
She thought of their Wimbledon terrace. They’d not had the money to kit it out with anything more extravagant than IKEA furniture, but they had made it into a lovely, stylish place and it was tied up with so many memories. Happy memories if you discounted that final, high-octane showdown. An image of a Dune shoe flying – being hurled – down the stairs at her husband sprang instantly to mind, and she tried to blot it out as quickly as it came.
‘You can stay there for now,’ Graham said flatly. ‘At some point, matrimonial homes may have to be sold, particularly when there are no children involved. I haven’t established what your husband’s financial position is, but perhaps you could buy out his share . . .’
Abby didn’t care about the money. She just wanted this to be as painless as possible. She closed her eyes tightly at the thought of losing the house. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay somewhere that represented her life with Nick. Their marriage.
‘I think we are looking at a fairly straightforward fifty-fifty division of assets. And provided your husband doesn’t contest the divorce, it shouldn’t take too long.’
‘How long do you think?’ she gulped.
‘To decree nisi? Fifteen, sixteen weeks. Decree absolute another month after that.’
‘So I’ll be divorced by Christmas.’
She felt her hands shake and a wave of nausea pool in her throat.
‘Would you like some water?’
‘No, no. I’m fine,’ she muttered, wondering if she had let out a moan.
‘Divorce can be a very traumatic experience,’ said Graham softly. ‘Especially when you are the, uh, injured party, shall we say?’
‘Can be traumatic?’ said Abby, challenging him. ‘Isn’t it always?’
‘I think it can be something of a relief in some cases. Not everyone has a good marriage, and sometimes divorce is the first thing a couple have agreed on in years.’
He sat back in his chair and put down his pen.
‘You know, at this stage it’s sometimes helpful to attempt a reconciliation before we get too far down the line.’
‘Is that what’s in the file? A key card to Babington House?’
She regretted her sarcasm when Graham looked confused.