CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A couple of reporters were still loitering outside her front gate when the cab driver pulled up. She’d got off the bus at the first stop and walked to the nearest taxi rank. Thank God she had the money she’d stolen from Helga. She paid the driver and as she got out, the two reporters, one male and one female, pounced on her.
‘Mrs Dennehy,’ said the male, ‘Can you comment on the party at Sydenham? Why did you go there?’
He was young, clean-cut, supercilious. Eva rounded on him.
‘Who says I was there?’
‘Your handbag—’
‘In case you haven’t noticed, my handbag is not me. And I’m sick of you lot hanging around making up stories about me. If you don’t go right now I’m going to phone your editor and lodge a formal complaint that you’ve been harassing me.’
He held up hi
