” “We can walk and talk,” Ann replied, “and then after that, we can do whatever you want to do.” Her emphasis on the whatever word really peeked my curiosity. “Come on,” she remarked, reaching out and gently tapping my hand. She stood and quickly re-adjusted her skirt, which more or less confirmed for me, that she was at least aware of her leg flash. I followed her out of the conference room and into the main print shop. “Gee, you very tall,” Ann remarked as I stood next to her, surveying the print shop set up. Even in her stiletto heels, she barely reached my shoulders. “I am too short,” she added. “Nah,” I replied, “Good things come in small packages.” Ann smiled and walked over to a work station where one of her employees was busy organizing papers. She introduced me to her worker and then three of her other employees. Each nodded their head and quietly smiled, then quickly went back to their tasks without saying anything. We stepped into the shipping area, where five employees. You know as well as I that the train connections are appalling from London and you wouldn’t see us till midnight.’ ‘True’ his mother conceded. ‘That wouldn’t be good. Of course, with more notice I’d have rostered myself off, but I have to work tonight.’ Simon’s mother was head nurse at drug rehabilitation centre, dealing with those addicts who still had enough wealth, or enough family, to afford to be able to go cold turkey in style, and have the psychological support to help them through. Reading about this today, you might think of Marian Keys’ books, although her attempts to describe what happens are, I’m assured, rather lame and tame. We reached Simon’s home, where his father was busy uncorking a rather decent French red, glasses to hand. I thought straight away that his attention to guests was second to none! Simon took my bags upstairs while his mother waited to garage the car and I was left in the kitchen with his father, Derek. ‘Kate, Derek’ was his rather gruff introduction.
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