CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Every time I switched on the morning TV, there was someone talking about, well, erm… me, actually. It was the weirdest thing. I'm just so relieved I moved into my new house when I did. At least the gates kept out those wretched members of the press. Wait a minute, I was a member of the press too! Okay, so perhaps they weren't wretched. They have a job to do, I understand that. I just wish they'd hound someone else, for a change. Unfortunately, they soon realised that the owner of the pink Mini was me. Even hiding under a large floppy hat and massive sunglasses didn't help. Why, oh why, did I buy such a highly visible car?
So I'd been borrowing Zara's car lately, or Tony's. Occasionally, I even hired the services of a chauffeur driven alternative. Anything to allow me
