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Authors: Louise Bagshawe
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She dressed like a princess and acted like one too. In a matter of months, she had become one of the most courted wives on the luncheon circuit. And as she fondly thought; the most popular. Her latest triumph was to redo the terrace. Surely Ernie would be thrilled. It would be a perfect surprise. Jodie Goodfriend had put her wise to that delightful Westches ter gardening specialist, who, for a price, would make house calls. And a few measly thousand later, she was looking at an instant garden - a leafy oasis of potted orange trees, entire beds of moss dotted with large balls of stone, terracotta urns stuffed with exotic grasses and shrubs, and delicate .silver bells strung between the branches. Instant topiary hedges carved into balls and arches covered the entrance, and the clever little gardening man had promised her he would install some climbing ivy and wisteria next wek.
Idly Diana flipped through her diary and looked for a space. She wanted two or three girlfriends over to enjoy this masterpiece. If it was a sunny day, they could have a wonderful girly, gossipy lunch, under her orange tree in full blossom.
Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. Ernie h/d
53
had extensions installed in every room in the place so that
she wouldn’t have to dive for the receiver.
‘Darling. It’s me.’
Diana beamed. How nice, he was calling to check in on her. His gestures of affection had waned a little of late.
‘I have such a marvellous surprise for you, sweetheart.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fantastic, Di.’ Ernie’s common East End accent was showing through. It grated on her. She also knew it was a sure sign that something was seriously bothering him; Ernie downplayed his origins to the best of his ability. ‘Look, I need you here. Got to put a little dog-and-pony show together for someone.’
‘But I’ve got a manicure at three. It takes for ever to get an appointment with Marcus,’ Diana said, disappointed.
He was snappy. ‘I really couldn’t care less. Get over here, would you?’
‘Who is this horrible man?’
Diana wanted to stamp her foot. It had taken her two weeks to get a slot with Marcus and this was her first time. Most likely he would take umbrage and not see her for a month now. And all the girls were going to him. Except her.
‘Horrible is right. He’s a little idiot. But we want to land him. So be a good girl, and get yourself in a cab, all right?’ her husband said, and hung up.
Diana stamped her foot. Blast it. She dialled Marcus’s number and prepared to grovel. Meanwhile, she decided that Ernie could be a royal pain in the arse. And who was the odious guy cutting into her alone time?
I hate him already, Diana thought.
54
Chapter 7
Michael relaxed into his chair. It was hard, but extremely comfortable, obviously custom made for Ernie’s office. Not the kind of furniture he’d have picked himself. He didn’t like showy, curvy chairs. For Michael Cicero a chair was just there to be sat on, not to be noticed. This little ergonomic number was just too accommodating, he might get drowsy on the job and that would not be acceptable.
Toda}, however, he permitted himself to enjoy it. Today he was being worked on, not the other vcay round.
Ernie Foxton was standing in front of him, concluding his presentation. The enthusiasm the Blakely’s people had shown for Green Eggs Books was amazing. It made him feel like John Grisham, or something. He was taken aback by how badly they wanted to get into bed with him. Janet Jensen, the dark, intense little woman, and Peter Davits who seemed smart, had given him the hard sell for thirty minutes apiece. Janet’s department was enthusiastic about children’s literature and talked movingly about the lack of intelligent stuff for little kids to sink their teeth into. Peter Davits calculated that they could bring the company up millibns of
She dressed like a princess and acted like one too. In a matter of months, she had become one of the most courted wives on the luncheon circuit. And as she fondly thought; the most popular. Her latest triumph was to redo the terrace. Surely Ernie would be thrilled. It would be a perfect surprise. Jodie Goodfriend had put her wise to that delightful Westches ter gardening specialist, who, for a price, would make house calls. And a few measly thousand later, she was looking at an instant garden - a leafy oasis of potted orange trees, entire beds of moss dotted with large balls of stone, terracotta urns stuffed with exotic grasses and shrubs, and delicate .silver bells strung between the branches. Instant topiary hedges carved into balls and arches covered the entrance, and the clever little gardening man had promised her he would install some climbing ivy and wisteria next wek.
Idly Diana flipped through her diary and looked for a space. She wanted two or three girlfriends over to enjoy this masterpiece. If it was a sunny day, they could have a wonderful girly, gossipy lunch, under her orange tree in full blossom.
Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. Ernie h/d
53
had extensions installed in every room in the place so that
she wouldn’t have to dive for the receiver.
‘Darling. It’s me.’
Diana beamed. How nice, he was calling to check in on her. His gestures of affection had waned a little of late.
‘I have such a marvellous surprise for you, sweetheart.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fantastic, Di.’ Ernie’s common East End accent was showing through. It grated on her. She also knew it was a sure sign that something was seriously bothering him; Ernie downplayed his origins to the best of his ability. ‘Look, I need you here. Got to put a little dog-and-pony show together for someone.’
‘But I’ve got a manicure at three. It takes for ever to get an appointment with Marcus,’ Diana said, disappointed.
He was snappy. ‘I really couldn’t care less. Get over here, would you?’
‘Who is this horrible man?’
Diana wanted to stamp her foot. It had taken her two weeks to get a slot with Marcus and this was her first time. Most likely he would take umbrage and not see her for a month now. And all the girls were going to him. Except her.
‘Horrible is right. He’s a little idiot. But we want to land him. So be a good girl, and get yourself in a cab, all right?’ her husband said, and hung up.
Diana stamped her foot. Blast it. She dialled Marcus’s number and prepared to grovel. Meanwhile, she decided that Ernie could be a royal pain in the arse. And who was the odious guy cutting into her alone time?
I hate him already, Diana thought.
54
Chapter 7
Michael relaxed into his chair. It was hard, but extremely comfortable, obviously custom made for Ernie’s office. Not the kind of furniture he’d have picked himself. He didn’t like showy, curvy chairs. For Michael Cicero a chair was just there to be sat on, not to be noticed. This little ergonomic number was just too accommodating, he might get drowsy on the job and that would not be acceptable.
Toda}, however, he permitted himself to enjoy it. Today he was being worked on, not the other vcay round.
Ernie Foxton was standing in front of him, concluding his presentation. The enthusiasm the Blakely’s people had shown for Green Eggs Books was amazing. It made him feel like John Grisham, or something. He was taken aback by how badly they wanted to get into bed with him. Janet Jensen, the dark, intense little woman, and Peter Davits who seemed smart, had given him the hard sell for thirty minutes apiece. Janet’s department was enthusiastic about children’s literature and talked movingly about the lack of intelligent stuff for little kids to sink their teeth into. Peter Davits calculated that they could bring the company up millibns of
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