CHAPTER SEVEN
They’d found another hotel just off the Bayswater Road. It was called the Grand. However, it was far from that, with the downstairs frayed reception carpet and the first floor poky room with its nicotine stained ceiling which they were looking at now.
‘My God, you could’ve got yourself killed. Who would have thought, his own son killed Sir Geoffrey?’
Martin kissed her tenderly on the forehead. ‘I know, My Love. These days, youngsters just don’t respect their parents anymore.’
They both laughed and she rolled over and straddled him. ‘So, Mr James Bond, that holiday break we were talking about. Where are you going to take your Miss Moneypenny? The Caribbean, the Seychelles or perhaps the Hamptons?’ She flicked back her long dark wavy hair in a haughty pose. ‘I can see mysel
