It’s not like I’d be breaking any rules, but it’s no one else’s business,
and I wouldn’t want to have to explain to Bob how I’d been working weekends
and yet still hadn’t managed to make a dent in the huge pile of invoices waiting to be processed.
Plus, I could do other things at home at the same time, like cook a trial menu for our first dinner together.
Mummy told me, years ago, that men go absolutely crazy for sausage rolls.
The way to a man’s heart, she said, is a homemade sausage roll, hot, flaky pastry, good quality meat.
I haven’t cooked anything except pasta for years. I’ve never made a sausage roll.
I don’t suppose it’s terribly difficult, though. It’s only pastry and mechanically recovered meat.
I switched on the machine and entered my password, but the whole screen froze.
I turned the computer off and on again, and this time it didn’t even get as far as the password prompt.
Annoying. I went to see Loretta, the office manager.
She has overinflated ideas of her own administrative abilities,
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