‘Written anything yet?’ she asked, yawning. ‘No,’ Rudge replied, ‘and time is really against me to deliver this bloody sequel. I’m using my old laptop for luck, but it’s no use. I even thought about getting drunk again like with first book, but somehow I don’t think that’ll work either.’ ‘I reckon it’s this place,’ Becky said, ‘you’ve become so accustomed to luxury and living the good life, it must be stifling your creativity.’ Rudge got to his feet and paced the room, rubbing his head. ‘What would you suggest I do then, Becky?’ he replied, ‘Go back to my nice cold garden shed?’ Becky looked out of the window for a few moments before turning to face him. ‘Why not?’ she said, ‘Your wife is due back from holiday on Friday, so you’ll need to check that the builder has finished the house properly. So you may as well stay down there for the rest of the week and get some writing done.’ ‘That’s not a bad idea, Becky. The trouble is my shed still hasn’t got any electric, and the battery on my laptop dies after about fifteen minutes.’ ‘Take the new one then,’ she suggested, ‘I can make do with this old thing if I keep it plugged in.’ ‘That’s settled then,’ Rudge replied with a warm smile, slapping his hands together, ‘but what will you do?’ ‘You’re not my bodyguard, Reuben, don’t worry I’ll be fine,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a few things to do for the publisher this week, but after last night I’ve had a belly-full of ‘exclusive’ parties.’ ‘Well we were duty bound to attend this time,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but never again.’ ‘Did you find Nikki Blandford at the last one?
