RAFFERTY GAVE ABRA a quick call as they got in the car. ‘Hi, sweetheart. How are you?’
‘About the same as I was when you asked me thirty minutes ago.’
‘But you’re feeling all right? You’re sure? No twinges or—?’
‘Joe. Please stop fussing and ringing me every half-hour. My boss is going ballistic. I’m pregnant not—’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No “buts”. You’ll get me the sack. The bastard hates pregnant women. According to the grapevine, he’s always managed to get rid of them before. Thinks his star clients will be offended at the sight of a swollen belly.’
‘Offended? Most of his clients have littered the landscape with pregnant and discarded former lovers. They should be used to it.’ Abra worked for an agent in the entertainment world, whose star clients were the usual demanding divas.
‘You know
