you I find it hard to see how we could have been closer. Our love for each other really didn’t need strengthening.
The baby seems to have your eyes, and I think I can even make out a bit of the Winshaw nose, there! Can you see much of Sir Peter in her?
Not yet, really, no. I think babies often grow into a resemblance with the parent. I’m sure that’s what will happen.
Does this mean you’ll have to take a break from your column for a while?
I don’t think so. Obviously I want to spend as much time with Josephine as possible – and, of course, Peter was able to offer me pretty good terms for maternity leave. It does help if your husband is also your boss! But I’d be loath to let my readers down. They’re so loyal, and they’ve all been so kind, sending cards and so on. It really restores your faith in people.
I must say, as an avid reader of the column, that it’s something of a surprise not to find the builders here!
I know – I do tend to go on about it, don’t I? But we’ve had to have such a lot done recently. This conservatory’s new, for instance, and so is the whole of the extension with the swimming-pool. It took even longer than expected because the neighbours were so beastly about it. They even took us to court over the noise, would you believe. Anyway they’ve moved now, so that’s all been amicably resolved.
And now I believe we’re about to discover yet another side to your talents.
Yes, I’m currently working on my first novel. Several publishers have been bidding for it and I’m pleased to say it’s coming out next spring.
Can you tell us about the subject?
Well actually I haven’t started writing it yet, but I know it’s going to be very exciting, with plenty of glamour and romance I hope. Of course the nicest thing is that I can write at home – we’ve put in this dear little study overlooking the garden – so I don’t have to be away from Josephine. Which is just as well, because right now I don’t think I could bear to be parted from her for a moment!
Hilary stared malevolently at her daughter, watching her face crumple as she gathered breath for another scream.
‘Now what’s the matter with it?’ she said.
‘Just wind, I think,’ said the nanny.
Hilary fanned herself with the menu.
‘Well can’t you take it outside for a while? It’s showing us up in front of everybody.’
Once they’d gone, she turned to her companion.
‘I’m sorry, Simon, you were saying?’
‘I was saying we must think of a title. A single word, preferably. Lust, or Revenge, or Desire, or something.’
‘Well, can’t we leave that to their marketing people? I’m going to have enough trouble writing the bloody thing.’
Simon nodded. He was a tall and handsome man whose slightly vague exterior masked a sharp business sense. He had come highly recommended: Hilary had chosen him to be her agent from a shortlist of seven or eight.
‘Look, I’m sorry the auction was a bit disappointing,’ he said. ‘But publishers are really playing safe at the moment. A few years ago six figures would have been no problem at all. Anyway, you didn’t do too badly. I read recently that the same people paid some new writer seven hundred and fifty quid for his first novel.’
‘Couldn’t you have pushed a little bit harder, though?’
‘There was no point. Once they’d gone up to eighty-five thousand they weren’t going to budge. I could tell.’
‘Oh well. I’m sure you did your best.’
They ordered oysters followed by fresh lobster. Just as the waitress was leaving, Simon said: ‘Shouldn’t we order something for – what’s her name – Maria?’
‘Who?’
‘Your nanny.’
‘Oh, yes. I suppose we should.’
Hilary called the waitress back and ordered a hamburger.
‘What does Josephine eat?’ asked Simon.
‘Oh, some vile muck you have to get in little bottles from the supermarket. It goes in one end and comes out of the other about ten minutes later looking exactly
The baby seems to have your eyes, and I think I can even make out a bit of the Winshaw nose, there! Can you see much of Sir Peter in her?
Not yet, really, no. I think babies often grow into a resemblance with the parent. I’m sure that’s what will happen.
Does this mean you’ll have to take a break from your column for a while?
I don’t think so. Obviously I want to spend as much time with Josephine as possible – and, of course, Peter was able to offer me pretty good terms for maternity leave. It does help if your husband is also your boss! But I’d be loath to let my readers down. They’re so loyal, and they’ve all been so kind, sending cards and so on. It really restores your faith in people.
I must say, as an avid reader of the column, that it’s something of a surprise not to find the builders here!
I know – I do tend to go on about it, don’t I? But we’ve had to have such a lot done recently. This conservatory’s new, for instance, and so is the whole of the extension with the swimming-pool. It took even longer than expected because the neighbours were so beastly about it. They even took us to court over the noise, would you believe. Anyway they’ve moved now, so that’s all been amicably resolved.
And now I believe we’re about to discover yet another side to your talents.
Yes, I’m currently working on my first novel. Several publishers have been bidding for it and I’m pleased to say it’s coming out next spring.
Can you tell us about the subject?
Well actually I haven’t started writing it yet, but I know it’s going to be very exciting, with plenty of glamour and romance I hope. Of course the nicest thing is that I can write at home – we’ve put in this dear little study overlooking the garden – so I don’t have to be away from Josephine. Which is just as well, because right now I don’t think I could bear to be parted from her for a moment!
Hilary stared malevolently at her daughter, watching her face crumple as she gathered breath for another scream.
‘Now what’s the matter with it?’ she said.
‘Just wind, I think,’ said the nanny.
Hilary fanned herself with the menu.
‘Well can’t you take it outside for a while? It’s showing us up in front of everybody.’
Once they’d gone, she turned to her companion.
‘I’m sorry, Simon, you were saying?’
‘I was saying we must think of a title. A single word, preferably. Lust, or Revenge, or Desire, or something.’
‘Well, can’t we leave that to their marketing people? I’m going to have enough trouble writing the bloody thing.’
Simon nodded. He was a tall and handsome man whose slightly vague exterior masked a sharp business sense. He had come highly recommended: Hilary had chosen him to be her agent from a shortlist of seven or eight.
‘Look, I’m sorry the auction was a bit disappointing,’ he said. ‘But publishers are really playing safe at the moment. A few years ago six figures would have been no problem at all. Anyway, you didn’t do too badly. I read recently that the same people paid some new writer seven hundred and fifty quid for his first novel.’
‘Couldn’t you have pushed a little bit harder, though?’
‘There was no point. Once they’d gone up to eighty-five thousand they weren’t going to budge. I could tell.’
‘Oh well. I’m sure you did your best.’
They ordered oysters followed by fresh lobster. Just as the waitress was leaving, Simon said: ‘Shouldn’t we order something for – what’s her name – Maria?’
‘Who?’
‘Your nanny.’
‘Oh, yes. I suppose we should.’
Hilary called the waitress back and ordered a hamburger.
‘What does Josephine eat?’ asked Simon.
‘Oh, some vile muck you have to get in little bottles from the supermarket. It goes in one end and comes out of the other about ten minutes later looking exactly
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