WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE
I realise I've been sitting alone again, thinking for quite a while. Richie hasn't
come back with my drink so I get up to go and find him. I walk through into the next
room. He's there. With two drinks in his hands, but he's stopped to talk to skinny
Lynnie.
I feel a little frisson of annoyance. Why has he bothered to stop and talk to her?
Maybe she called him over, or maybe it's a mistake. What does she look like? Thin
as a pole, she is wearing a yellow sheath dress, slit up one side to reveal her
knobbly knees. Banana split, I think, and smile at my own joke. As I watch though,
he's being more than nice. He is leaning forward to talk to her, quietly whispering in
her ear. Now he’s handing her my drink. Really!
I'm just about to storm over there and demand an expla