The Bee's kiss

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‘I do all my thinking in the car nowadays. And why? Because, whatever I do or say, I can’t get away from blasted Audrey!’

A flash of resentment expressed itself in a sharp stab on the accelerator and the red Chrysler two-seater swept smoothly onwards over the Hog’s Back and on to London.

‘Eight years ago she was innocent, pliable, uninventive but co-operative. And now? Sycophantic, eager to please but having no longer the power of pleasing. She’ll have to go! And this time I shan’t relent no matter how many damp handkerchiefs she waves before my face. She’s completely suffocating me. I should have left her where I found her — second from the right in the chorus of Florodora.

‘It was a good idea, throwing my luggage in the back and just leaving. I certainly needed to get away, to get away to London. . to get away from cosy domesticity in the country to the supple hospitality extended by the Ritz. “Your usual suite?” I like that! I like the purring familiar voice, confidential and knowing, so calming in all this storm and stress. But now — what to look forward to? A dreary evening. Cousin Alfred’s fiftieth birthday party. A roomful of people I hardly know. A roomful of dull nieces and nephews. But — you never know your luck! That little girl who’s just got herself engaged to the appalling Monty — she might be quite promising. Might be distinctly promising! I can remember everything about her except her name. Jennifer? Jasmine? Sure it began with a J. . Joanna! Got it! Black hair in a fashionable bob, slender figure. Slanting green eyes. Naughty and knowing green eyes perhaps? I’m sure I encountered a look of complicity when we met.

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