Money Never Sleeps Read Online Free Page A

gatecrasher. I’m doing a two-parter on police procedure. Both talks on the same day. A marathon.’
    ‘I might come to that,’ said Fancy, knowing her ignorance about police procedure. She was constantly ringing up the press office at Scotland Yard.
    ‘You’d be welcome. But don’t ask me anything too tricky,’ he said, echoing her words with a wicked grin. He had good teeth. No nicotine stains. ‘You seem a bit uptight about something. Is itthis place? Northcote can be overwhelming. All these people, when you are used to being on your own.’
    ‘No, no, Northcote is fine and everyone is being kind and helpful. It’s been a strange week in London, that’s all.’
    He nodded as if he understood when he didn’t. ‘We all get strange weeks. We’d better circulate among the white-badgers. That’s what we are here for. It’s why we get a free drink. Or two.’
    ‘How did you get that tie on with your hand…?’ There. She’d asked it when she had vowed to herself that she wouldn’t. She was too nosey.
    ‘My ties are already tied for me. I loop it over my head and tighten up the knot. Unless, of course, I can find a nice young woman who’s good at ties.’
    ‘I’m sure there are plenty around,’ she murmured, moving away.
    Fancy found she was expected to sit at the committee table for all meals. They had a round table reserved in a far corner of the dining room. Everyone else sat nine-apiece at rectangular tables. It all looked friendly in a big airy room, one side all windows looking out onto the garden. It was divided into areas with arches and low shelves for bags and books. The walls were cream, the tablecloths white, the napkins maroon. The carnation sprigs on the tables were fresh flowers.
    ‘Speakers always sit with the committee,’ said Jessie. ‘It’s a tradition.’
    The main course came from the kitchen in big pie dishes and someone at each table drew the short straw and had to serve out the food. Tonight it was steak pie with peas and parsnips and new potatoes. It was a strange choice of menu for a Saturday night supper but Fancy was hungry and ate the lot. When had she last eaten proper food? But she was not hungry enough for the school-style sherryless trifle with hundreds and thousands on top and opted for a banana from the nearby fruit bowl. The banana was stone cold, like marble, straight from a refrigerator.
    There was a thermos of coffee on every table and again it was serve yourself.
    ‘There are packets of tea over by the urn,’ said Jessie. ‘Lots of herbal teas. Green tea is supposed to be good for you. For the heart.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Fancy faintly. She was already feeling exhausted from the non-stop talking at the table. She had been eating alone for so long. She wasn’t used to so much conversation . Words were flung in all directions.
    ‘How did you get your name, Fancy?’ asked Richard Gerard. He was an accountant by trade, so perfect for the post of Treasurer. He was trying to write sitcoms for television, so far without global success. But he had sold to regional television.
    ‘It’s very unusual.’
    ‘It’s another spelling of Frances, though really my mother named me after Francis of Sales.’
    ‘Who’s that?’
    ‘He’s the patron saint of writers.’ That usually stunned everyone. ‘My mother was a novelist. She wrote lots of Mills & Boon romances. It was non-stop hard work, producing at least three novels a year to a deadline. I used to proofread the manuscripts for her. And she paid me. That was my first lesson in writing.’
    ‘And romance.’ Everyone laughed.
    ‘And making money.’
    ‘Both useful.’
    Fancy nodded. ‘I learned a lot from my mother’s books. The fiery passion of romance but unfortunately for my personal education, she was a dot-dot-dot writer. The romance always stopped at the bedroom door.’
    There was more laughter. Fancy felt she had passed some sort of test. Tonight’s guest speaker was timed for 8.30 p.m. but