The words 'first', 'best' and 'only' were bandied about with great freedom, much to the consternation of the girl from the posh PR firm Harry had employed. 'You can't use words like that. They imply that . . . well, you are the best, and of course you are,' she added hurriedly, not liking the look on Harry's face. 'It's just that it is potentially litigious,' she wailed. Lisa had been so enthusiastic about this project at the beginning. A weekend in the country with a glamorous chef was the perfect excuse to escape London and a minor heatwave. She was pleased with her resemblance to Gwyneth Paltrow in the film Sliding Doors, though five-inch heels turned out to be a definite mistake. She had had no idea she would be expected to trot around after Harry all day and most of the night while he barked out confusing and sometimes contradictory orders. He looked at her coldly now. 'But I am the best. What on earth is the point of spending thousands of pounds with your firm if all you can come up with is "very nice"?' This was unkind.
