Chapter Three
Ms Frasier
A dip is only as good as what you dip into it.
Ms Frasier talked for Britain, the United States, Australia, and pretty much any country you could think of. She could talk an insomniac into a coma, and as she did, George’s libido sunk into the sunset and Beatrice’s excitement melted quicker than ice cream under a blowtorch, while Francis, giving up on her dips, began to pack up as loudly as possible.
“The game’s finished,” Francis said, crisply collecting cards; she slapped them into their pack. “You’re too late.”
“And your dips?” Ms Frasier said coquettishly.
Francis stopped. “My dips?” She flashed a look at Beatrice. “You came here for my dips?”
“Well I didn’t come here for the cards, not my thing. I am more a backgammon sort of woman, not that I have any t
