Chapter Three
“Okay,” Mandy insisted, “you’ve had your fun. You shocked us. Fine. Now you can tell Nigel it’s over and he can get down the pub with the other two golfers.”
Crossing her legs, Coral Jackman had sipped at her Roc de Lussac and ran a hand through the blonde tresses of the short French Crop she had taken to sporting recently that lent her such an air of authority.
A year older than Corinne, she was two years younger than Mandy herself. All three women shared a certain matronly quality in build; though none could remotely be described as “Un-sexy.”
A dissatisfaction with their respective spouses yet another piece of mutual common ground.
“Nigel’s not going to the pub tonight,” she told them in a voice not expecting to be contradicted as her shame-faced husband topped Corinn
