A Dog's Life (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 4) by Oliver Tidy Page B

was only in her early thirties and while her biological clock wasn’t audible just yet, she found herself wondering about that element of her future with greater regularity. Would Justin be the man for that? He already had two young kids. No, that wouldn’t work. Not for her. Not other people’s kids. Was a relationship that involved levels of commitment she had no experience of what she needed now? If she wasn’t careful, life would be in danger of settling down into a grind, a rut, and that frightened her as much as anything. Should she push herself harder at work? Look for new opportunities? Advancement? Superintendent Vine had indicated that she could be influential in a good way, but there was a price tag attached to that kind of help. And Joy finally found herself considering the thing that might be at the root of her despondency.
    To break the spell of Joy’s reverie, Stephanie Lather entered from a door behind the elevated little stage to a warm round of applause. She looked good in a designer suit – everyone knew she liked her clothes. She looked fit – everyone knew she could afford and had a personal trainer. She looked happy – everyone knew she was living the dream. She looked like a woman who’d won the lottery. Better than that, she was a woman who’d fixed her own win. She had a right to enjoy it.
    While the couple of other figures that had entered with her took seats at the table on the dais, Stephanie remained standing and walked to the front of the stage to smile and blow kisses at her adoring audience. Joy found herself irresistibly caught up in the fervour and clapped and smiled back. It was all very uplifting.
    Stephanie used her hands and body language to show that she felt unworthy and gradually the commotion died down.
    When all had been reduced to an expectantly-charged hush, she began: ‘Thank you. Thank you. How kind and lovely you all are. How truly unworthy I feel. I’d like to start by thanking you all for coming today and giving me such a wonderful reception.’
    She was interrupted by a resurgence or applause. Again she quietened them with some appropriate hand signals.
    ‘As most of you may know, I was born and bred in Dover and although I don’t visit as often as I would like, it will always have a special place in my heart.’
    A couple of rows behind Joy and off to her left someone blew a large raspberry. That changed things. Stephanie’s verbal stride faltered. Her fixed wide grin curdled and her eyebrows dipped. She looked momentarily unsure or herself. All those who’d heard it turned to seek out the source but it was not immediately apparent.
    Stephanie resumed, perhaps wondering whether she had been mistaken: ‘One question that readers often ask me is: where did the character of JR Lleroy come from? Is JR’s life based to any extent on my own?’
    ‘That’s two questions,’ shouted someone from across the other side, not kindly it seemed to Joy.
    Stephanie again looked fleetingly perplexed by the interruption. After a short pause she carried on. ‘Like many authors’ central protagonists, there is a good deal of JR Lleroy in me and a good deal of me in JR Lleroy. We are of a similar age. We have comparable backgrounds...’
    ‘What do you attribute your popularity to?’ came a loud female voice two rows in front of Joy.
    In Stephanie’s obvious confusion and hesitancy at yet another interruption, one of the other women who’d entered from behind the stage with her and had been sitting at the desk – a cold, frigid-looking, stern-faced woman – stood and walked to take up a position beside the author.
    She smiled a tight icy smile as she speared the owner of that enquiry with her stare. ‘Stephanie will be taking questions at the end, but because of our tight time constraints, could I please ask that questions are kept until after Stephanie has given us a reading from her latest novel.’
    A murmur of general agreement rippled through the audience. Joy