She was shattered. The show-jumping correspondent, jealous of her pitch being queered by Janey, had sneaked to the sports editor about unnecessary extravagance. Kevin Coley took her arm, none too gently. There was boggy ground to the right.
Rupert, who’d always believed that a room full of roses and a gold bracelet could placate any woman, was slightly surprised. She must be forty, but very attractive in a determined sort of way driving her husband Rollo on from success to success, knowing everyone, rigidly governed by the social calendar. “I’m going to object,” she said. If you don’t watch her all the time, she goes out.
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