When she’d broached the subject and said her insurance would cover the costs, he’d merely nodded and carried on reading the Racing Post. And apart from the bare communication necessary in their jobs, he hardly said another word. Not that she wanted any great heart-to-hearts, Pippa thought as she sat at her desk after completing that day’s declarations, but a little interaction would be nice. Just to reassure her that he didn’t really despise her. ‘Pippa,’ Jack broke into her thoughts from his office doorway, ‘what is this thing I’ve got in my diary about going to Abbey Road Studios next week?’ Oh, fuck, said courage and promptly deserted Pippa. She put on a bright smile. ‘It’s the recording of the Cheltenham charity single that you’re doing.’ Jack looked at her as if she’d just informed him he was going to front the opening gig at Glastonbury. ‘What? I never agreed to that!’ he spluttered. ‘Um, well, yes, you did.’ ‘When? I would never agree to do this!
