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was a half-inch thick steak
that could only have originated in Iowa, potatoes that melted in Irene’s mouth,
enough coffee to float a small fleet and bread so fresh it must have come
straight from the oven.
    ‘Good.’ Ms Manning joined her,
matching her bite for bite and swallow for swallow. ‘I like to see a woman with
an appetite. I’ve no time for those half people who live on grass and water.
Food is for eating, and exercise removes the excess. Don’t you agree?’
    Until that moment, Irene had never
considered the question. She looked up, suddenly aware that she was alone in
the company of one of the richest people in the world, the same woman who had
callously discarded her the previous evening. She patted her lips with a napkin
of crisp linen and repeated, ‘why have you brought me here?’
    ‘To speak with you,’ Ms Manning
told her. ‘Are you tired?’
    Irene shook her head.
    ‘Good. Walk with me then.’ Ms
Manning was upright on the last word and strode from the room, with Irene
following like a small dog.
    ‘You would have been surprised at
my invitation, after my decision of last night.’ Ms Manning allowed Irene to
walk at her side as they strode along a long corridor, their feet sinking into
a deep pile carpet. Wall lights gleamed on polished oak, with doors inset at
regular intervals.
    ‘I was,’ Irene agreed. ‘I had
expected to be on the streets today.’
    ‘You may yet be,’ Ms Manning
warned, ‘but only if you fail me.’
    Irene hesitated. ‘I thought that I
had already done that. You chose Kendrick.’
    ‘He was a worthy winner,’ Ms
Manning’s voice contained neither sympathy nor understanding. ‘But remember on
what terms.’ When she looked upward into Irene’s face and raised her eyebrows, Irene
involuntarily flinched. Ms Manning always used that expression as a rebuke to
point out something that should have been obvious. She continued before Irene
had time to think. ‘How did you feel when I announced that choice?’
    Irene’s answer was spontaneous.
‘Sick. I thought that your decision sucked.’
    Ms Manning stopped and looked
upward again. ‘Point one: I appreciate your honesty. Point two: when dealing
with business matters; you will drop the teenage slang. This is the Manning
Corporation and we work and speak in a professional manner. Point three: that
is precisely the reaction that I hoped you would have. If you had shown a lack
of concern, I would have terminated this meeting immediately. Follow.’ Pushing
open an arched door, Ms Manning watched as Irene stepped forward.
    Irene stopped in astonishment.
They had entered a room of gleaming marble, with an oval swimming pool
stretching before them. Sculptures from classical antiquity guarded the edge of
the pool, with Achilles admiring Poseidon’s trident while Hercules flaunted his
muscles to a bow wielding Apollo.
    ‘You look surprised,’ Ms Manning
said.
    ‘A little,’ Irene tried to hide
her astonishment.
    ‘Why?’ Ms Manning stepped toward
the nearest sculpture, a white marble David with the face of an angel and the
body of an athlete. She touched its gleaming arm. ‘It is no secret that I am a
connoisseur of the arts; the Manning Corporation contributes millions of
dollars to museums throughout the United States , so why should I not have my own collection?’ She smiled
and stepped away. ‘These are originals, created by the finest contemporary
sculptors in the world. I like to admire them as I swim. Join me.’ It was as
much a command as any business order, but Irene could not hide her surprise
when Ms Manning peeled off her clothes and stepped naked into the pool. ‘Come
on, Irene, or do you have something to hide from me?’
    The question was mocking, but Ms
Manning’s eyes were acute.
    ‘I think you know all there is to
know about me,’ Irene told her. Very aware of the intensity of that gaze, she
fumbled over her buttons, determined to show no emotion as she kicked off the
last skimpy vestige