Chapter 8By eleven o’clock Zoelle still hadn’t returned and she sent a text message off but didn’t get a reply until twenty minutes last eleven.
Zoelle: Still going, sorry. Don’t worry about dinner, we got pizza. x.
Harriet: No worries, off to bed. Porch light is left on. xxx.
She stared at her interview outfit draped over a chair. It was a little plainer than the one she’d worn last week, although the white blouse did have structured ruffles. The black trousers had been ironed and she’d run a brush over the jacket to get rid of any fluff. Her shoes were polished, the portfolio was complete, the dishes were washed and put away and she’d even changed her bedding.
She stared at the bedside cabinet where the vibrator sat in its box. She had briefly tried it out before dinner, just against
