preference?â
âNo, Iâll leave it to you,â Jessica replied, starting as the buzzer sounded at the back gate. âAnd please know I feel bullied already.â
Karina laughed. âTill Wednesday,â she responded, and rang off.
A few minutes later Jessica was pouring a coffee for Melissa, who was talking into her mobile phone, while grimacing apologetically for taking the call. Jessica gestured for her to continue, then watched her walk back out into the garden where the reception was better. As usual Melissaâs voluptuous figure seemed to be staging a winning battle with its prison of buttons and seams, yet despite the strain her pale blue shirt and matching pencil skirt still contrived to look as expensively cut as they no doubt were. Her hair, a luxuriant mass of ebony curls, was bouncing about her shoulders in its habitual haphazard way, while the generous features of her elongated but nonetheless attractive face were as colourfully rouged, lipstickedand shadowed as ever. The only thing different about her this morning was the missing high heels, presumably because sheâd thought better of them for the short trot down the back lane. Then Jessica smiled to herself as, still talking into the phone, Melissa reached into her voluminous bag and pulled out a very elegant pair of pale blue Manolos, which she stumbled about exchanging for the rubber gardening shoes sheâd arrived in.
Her call finished and outfit complete, Melissa breezed back into the kitchen, air-kissed Jessica on both cheeks, and took her coffee with a satisfied sigh. âIâd treat you to genuine smackeroos if I thought youâd appreciate my lip prints,â she declared, with a playful twinkle. Then, after giving Jessica the once-over, âYou look good. Very good. Why is that everything you put on looks as though itâs about to go swanning off down the catwalk?â
âCharlie thinks Iâm too thin at the moment,â Jessica informed her, picking up her own coffee, âand heâs probably right.â
With a dismissive wave Melissa went to perch on the edge of the table. âCharlie tells me my assistant was less than discreet,â she began, taking a sip of her coffee. âShe will, of course, find herself out of a job by the end of the day, but Iâm sure what youâre more interested to know is why I came to the decision I did.â
âI have to say, it surprised me,â Jessica said, keeping her tone neutral.
Melissa smiled, showing two neat rows of perfectly capped teeth. Then, pulling out a chair, she sat down and crossed her ample legs. Jessica couldnât help glancing at the expanse of smooth, lightly tanned thigh and thinking that for a woman who was essentiallyoverweight, she flaunted herself with admirable style. She wondered how much she liked her, and thought perhaps reasonably well. She was direct, usually even-tempered, fiercely intelligent, and of course, given her position, extremely powerful. As was her husband, a senior Downing Street advisor with burgeoning parliamentary ambitions of his own.
âI want you to understand,â Melissa began, âthat my decision in no way reflects what I think of your ability. We both know how good you are, so I wonât sit here flattering you when it goes without saying that Iâd never have offered you your own programme if I considered you anything but the best. And therein lies the rub. When it comes to presenting, Jessica, you are it. The ultimate. People want to be interviewed by you, or reviewed, or even remembered. Youâre admired and respected by both sexes, though perhaps men more than women, which is exactly what we want for a news channel. So, in a nutshell, I want you on camera, not behind it.â
Jessicaâs expression tightened. âBut you know . . .â
âThat itâs not what you want. Yes, you made that very plain when you came to see me. You donât