She staggers back, a look of surprise on her face. I notice that she's wearing a light raincoat, but there's no evidence of an umbrella. 'Sorry, I didn't see you there.' 'That's all right, my lovey. Look at you now in that nice suit! Where are you going today?' 'I'm doing a hotel pitch.' 'And what in heavens name is that when it's at home?' For a crazy moment I imagine whisking Bernadette with her feather duster into a taxi and bringing her with me to Leatherhead. I could just picture her bustling into the doubtless staid and airless boardroom where we will be doing our pitch, and telling the directors exactly what she thought of their dreary concept for a country house hotel while munching on a pungent tuna sandwich. 'There's no such thing as a six star hotel, you bunch of wallies, and in Leatherhead? Are you off your heads?' she would cackle. Bernadette is eyeing me curiously. I snap out of my reverie. 'A pitch? Well we have to go and sell ourselves to a potential new client and hope we win the account.' She sniffs into her hankie.
What do You think about Cat On A Hot Tiled Roof (2011)?
