Spooks . . .
‘I’m bored, Percy, and restless.’ I took up a stiletto and flicked it in the direction of the especially erected target in the salon. ‘All the ladies do is gossip and giggle and spend hours discussing lengths of lace and flaunting the provenance of their escorts.’ I took up another stiletto after the first had gratifyingly entered the painted face of my target, the next punctuating the chest and damn near hitting X marks the spot. ‘And Gad, what have I to offer? My escort appears to be a figment of my imagination.’ I sighed. ‘Take me falconing Percy, I’ve a wish to get away from the canals.’