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She pointed to an overweight man with a florid face who was enjoying a joke with a younger agent dressed in more contemporary clothes.
'Who is he talking to?'
'Vernham Deane; romantic lead in one of Daphne Farquitt's novels. Mr Deane is a stalwart member of Jurisfiction so we don't hold it against him—'
'Where is Havisham?' bellowed a voice like thunder. The doors burst open and a very dishevelled Red Queen hopped in. The whole room fell silent. All, that is, except Miss Havisham, who said in an unnecessarily provocative tone:
'Bargain-hunting just doesn't suit some people, now does it?'
The assembled Jurisfiction operatives, realising that all they were witnessing was another round in a long and very personal battle, carried on talking.
The Red Queen had a large and painful-looking black eye and two of her fingers were in a splint. The sales at Booktastic had not been kind to her.
'What's on your mind, Your Majesty?' asked Havisham in an even tone.
'Meddle in my affairs again,' growled the Red Queen, 'and I won't be responsible for my actions!'
'Don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously, Your Majesty?' said Havisham, always maintaining due regal respect. 'It was only a set of Farquitts, after all!'
'A boxed set!' replied the Red Queen coldly. 'You spitefully took the gift I planned to give to my own dear beloved husband. And do you know why?'
Miss Havisham pursed her lips and was silent.
'Because you can't bear it that I'm happily married!'
'Rubbish!' returned Miss Havisham angrily. 'We beat you fair and square!'
'Ladies and, er … ladies and majesties, please!' I said in a conciliatory tone. 'Do we have to argue here at Norland Park?'
'Ah, yes!' said the Red Queen 'Do you know why we use Sense and Sensibility? Why Miss Havisham insisted on it, in fact?'
'Don't believe this,' murmured Miss Havisham, 'it's all poppycock. Her Majesty is a verb short of a sentence.'
'I'll tell you why,' went on the Red Queen angrily. 'Because in Sense and Sensibility there are no strong father or husband figures!'
Miss Havisham was silent.
'Face the facts, Estella. Neither the Dashwoods, the Steels, the Ferrar brothers, Eliza Brandon nor Willoughby have a father to guide them! Aren't you taking your hatred of men just a little too far?'
'Deluded,' replied Havisham, then added after a short pause: 'Well then, Your Majesty, since we are in a questioning vein, just what is it, exactly, that you rule over?'
The Red Queen turned scarlet – which was tricky as she was quite red to begin with – and pulled a small duelling pistol from her pocket. Havisham was quick and also drew her weapon, and there they stood, quivering with rage, guns pointing at each other. Fortunately the sound of a bell tingling caught their attention and they both lowered their weapons.
'The Bellman!' hissed Miss Havisham as she took my arm and moved towards where a man dressed as a town crier stood on a low dais. 'Show time!'
The small group of people gathered around the crier, the Red Queen and Miss Havisham side by side, their argument seemingly forgotten.
The Bellman put down his bell and consulted a list of notes.
'Is everyone here? Where's the cat?'
'I'm over here,' purred the cat, sitting precariously atop one of the gold-framed mirrors.
'Good. Okay, anyone missing?'
'Shelley's gone boating,' said a voice at the back. 'He'll be back in an hour if the weather holds.'
'Okay,' continued the Bellman. 'Jurisfiction meeting number 40,311 is now in session.'
