An Absolute Scandal A Novel

by Vincenzi, Penny

• ISBN13: 9780767926263
• ISBN10: 0767926269
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2009-05-05
• Publisher: Anchor

Summary

Set during the boom-and-bust years of the 1980s, "An Absolute Scandal" follows the lives of a group of people drawn together by their mutual monetary woes when the great financial institution Lloyd's undergoes a devastating downturn.

Author Biography

PENNY VINCENZI is the author of several bestsellers, including Sheer Abandon. She lives in London, England.

Excerpts

Chapter 1
22 April 1988, Morning


She wasn't even going to think about having an affair.

It was something she totally disapproved of; it wasn't only immoral and selfish, it was deeply dangerous. She was married, very happily, to someone she not only loved but admired, and there was no way she was going to break her vows (and risk breaking Nigel's heart), and put her marriage and her very happy life at risk. So that was absolutely that. And if he phoned--which he almost certainly wouldn't, he'd been drunk and probably hadn't meant a word of what he said--but if he did, she would simply say, "No, I'm sorry, it was lovely meeting you, but I'm happily married and--well, I'm happily married." That would be enough. Surely. He'd know what she meant and he'd probably come out with some jokey reply and that would be that. And if she had to spell it out--well, she would. A fun encounter: that's all it had been. She might have been a bit silly: shehadbeen a bit silly. But that was all. Blame the champagne. And luckily Nigel hadn't noticed anything …

He came into the bedroom now, from their bathroom, offering his wrists to her so she could put in his cuff links; as she did so, her fingers unusually fumbly—blame the champagne for that as well, she seemed to have a bit of a hangover—she suddenly found herself looking at him as if she had never seen him before. Was he really, as HE had said so rudely, a bit of a caricature? She supposed, honestly, he was: tall, blond—well, blondish, going just slightly grey now—very slim, pretty good-looking really, perfectly dressed, in his Turnbull and Asser shirt, his pinstripe suit, his Lobb shoes. (HE had been wearing Lobb shoes, he told her: "Only posh thing about me. I get a real thrill going in there, them getting the old last out.")

“Lucinda! Do concentrate, darling, I can't stand here all day.”

“Sorry. There you are.”

“Thanks. You having breakfast this morning?”

“Oh—no.” The thought made her feel sick.

“Hope you're not overdoing the dieting?”

“Nigel, of course I'm not. I'd have thought you only had to look at me to see that.”

“Well—you look pretty good to me. Anyway, I'm hungry. Not enough to eat at that thing, was there?”

“No, not really. Gosh, it's late, I didn't realise.”


***

She mustn't be late for work today, of all days. She worked for Peter Harrison, the publishers, as secretary to Graham Parker, one of the editors, and he had an important meeting with some Americans. Being Americans, they had suggested an eight o'clock meeting; Graham had managed to persuade them forwards an hour to nine, but she'd have to be there well before then, coffee brewed, biscuits and herself ready to greet them. It would be fun.

One of the things Lucinda loved most about her job was the social aspect; there was always something going on—book launches, marketing meetings, sales conferences, press jaunts…She'd been working for Graham for a year now; she was hoping to be an editor herself one day, but her ambition was slightly halfhearted; she didn't intend to go on working after she'd had a baby. That was something else she disapproved of: working mothers. She intended to be like her own mother, always there, putting her children first. But—come on, Lucinda, don't start thinking about that now. You've got to get to work.


***

She caught sight of herself in the hall mirror and tried to see herself through HIS eyes: long-ish full-ish skirt (Laura Ashley), blue shirt with a turned-up collar (Thomas Pink), and her twenty-first-birthday pearls, of course; navy sleeveless Puffa jacket, flat shoes (Charles Jourdan), blond hair scooped back in a velvet band.

There really was no way she could possibly

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Excerpted from An Absolute Scandal: A Novel by Penny Vincenzi
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