‘Then we can use Mummy’s magazines and Uncle Lando’s newspapers…’
‘And Uncle Xander’s newspapers – they’re the best because they’re orangey pink.’
I grinned and felt grateful for the fact that the Lords still favoured real, print newspapers over the digital version.
‘Good idea, we might have to.’
As we beavered away, I started to relax and feel better and was going to suggest a pause for some gingerbread when the doorbell rang. I jumped up and went to answer it. Outside on the doorstep stood a woman. She was tall and slender with glossy, wavy dark brown hair that fell almost to her waist. It was so lush that I found myself wondering if it could possibly be real, then berated myself for my bitchiness. Some people were just naturally blessed with stunning looks, and she was one of them. She had smooth, olive skin, huge dark eyes and full lips which, were, unfortunately, forming a very slight sneer, as if she had something unpleasant smelling under her perfect nose. It rather spoiled the effect: she must have been ravishing when she smiled.
‘Hello!’ I said chirpily, hoping a big grin would detract from my scruffy clothes, scrubbed face and pulled back hair. She stared at me stonily.
‘Lando?’
‘No, Penny,’ I replied, hoping to raise a smile. I might as well have hoped to raise Elvis. Her face didn’t flicker.
‘I mean, whereisLando?’ Her foot tapped and I was reminded of Cruella De Vil. Better lock up Garbo and Hepburn.
‘Oh, er, probably in his studio, working.’
‘Very well, I’ll wait for him in his office.’
She moved towards me, and I stepped aside hurriedly as she swept past in a cloud of heavy perfume. Although she hadn’t deigned to tell me her name, it was a pretty sensible guess that this must be Zara, the gorgeous ex. I shrugged and went back to check on the children. They were still engrossed in their film and paper chains, so I popped into the kitchen.
‘Hola, Pilar.’
‘Hola, Penélope, who was at the door?’
‘Well, she didn’t tell me her name, but she was stunning and rather rude and here to see Lando. She’s gone to wait in his office.’
‘Beautiful? Long, dark hair?’
‘That’s right, do you know her?’
Pilar let out a wonderfully derisive snort. I wondered if she’d teach me that rather than more Spanish.
‘Sí. What is she doing back here? She does not do Lando any good.’
‘I suppose I’d better go and find him.’
‘No, Penélope, you do not have to scurry around after her.Se puede cuezar en su propia salsa.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That she must cook for a while in her own sauce. Let her sit.’
‘Oh! Leave her to stew in her own juices. All right, I will. In the meantime, can I take some gingerbread for the children?’
I was duly issued with enough gingerbread shapes to see us from here to the new year, and a promise of hot chocolate to follow. I returned to the living room and was halfway through a large, pillowy gingerbread star when the door opened and in stalked Zara, a peeved expression on her lovely face.
Without preamble, she demanded, ‘Why haven’t you gone to find Lando? I’ve been waiting for ages.’
I finished my mouthful before replying.
‘I don’t recall you asking me to, you said you’d wait. Would you like some gingerbread?’
‘No, I wouldnotlike some gingerbread.’ Her mouth twisted and, taking another bite of the delicious biscuit, I wondered if she’d ever even tried it. It was probably all kale and macrobiotics round her way; she’d get on well with Chakra. She continued, ‘Any idiot would have realised that finding Lando for me was what I intended. I assume that youarehere working for the Lords’ – she raked her eyes up and down my scruffy ensemble as if to confirm my serfdom – ‘so you should have gone immediately. Oh, I’ll go myself, I know where that blasted studio is.’
I am a mild-mannered person, but even I took exception to being accused of idiocy by this unpleasant woman. I opened my mouth to reply, but stopped when Bunny wandered in.
