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of her underclothing. She looked straight into Ms Manning’s
face, smiled brightly and descended seven steps into water that lapped warmly
around her waist.
    ‘Well done,’ Ms Manning approved.
‘That took as much courage as appearing before the cameras. And more trust.
Good. Another point though; I know a lot about you, but not everything. Not
yet. There is one important factor left that I will find out today. Now follow
me, but don’t drink the water.’
    Diving beneath the surface, Ms
Manning propelled herself forward to the opposite end of the pool, with Irene
keeping pace with her. They surfaced together, with their hair plastered onto
their heads and faces streaming. ‘Do you like my sculptures?’
    Irene again surveyed the array of
marble figures. ‘Very nice,’ she approved. ‘You have a fine collection of naked
men.’
    ‘And so obedient,’ Ms Manning’s
grin was suddenly child like. ‘Just like men should be, don’t you think?’
    Irene laughed and was about to
agree when she saw the raised eyebrow. ‘Perhaps all men should be obedient,’
she said, thinking rapidly, ‘when they are your employees.’
    ‘Exactly,’ the eyebrow fell. Ms
Manning dipped below the surface again and powered back along the pool. She
surfaced in a small explosion of water and shook the excess from her hair. ‘And
when he is not an employee? What sort of man would you seek in a partner,
Irene? What sort of man is Patrick McKim?’
    Irene had anticipated the
question. She wondered if Ms Manning had chosen Kendrick because he was married
to a supportive wife, while she had enjoyed a succession of partners of whom
Patrick was only the latest. ‘Rough and ready, a bit wayward with no dress
sense, but I like him and he is loyal.’
    ‘How loyal, Irene?’ The stare was
as intense as Irene had ever seen it. ‘Would he be loyal enough to remain at
your side if you climbed higher than he could ever dream? And how much do you
like him? Do you like him enough to drag him with you? Or would you discard him
and fly alone? It’s a tough life at the top, Irene, and sometimes there is no
place for a partner.’
    ‘Kendrick has a wife,’ Irene
responded, ‘but you chose him.’
    ‘That’s better!’ Ms Manning nodded.
She stood up straight so her small breasts just broke the surface of the water.
Irene knew that she was forty-three years old, yet she had the body of somebody
fifteen years younger, with clear skin and fine muscular definition. Her
midriff was free of excess fat, while her hips flared elegantly from a trim
waist. ‘Tell me what you really think, Irene, not what you believe I want to
hear.’ She stepped closer, leaning back with her eyes firmly on Irene’s face.
‘You’re on the streets anyway, so you’ve nothing to lose. We’re alone here,
Irene, woman to woman with no witnesses and nothing at all between us.’ Her
smile was as mischievous as any teenager’s but as unrelenting as time,
‘literally.’
    Irene allowed her frustration to take
control. ‘I think that you chose wrong, Ms Manning. You chose the man who had
started with every advantage, the man who was cushioned by wealth, rather than
choosing me, who had to fight for everything.’
    Ms Manning held up a hand. ‘So
fight, Irene. Have you given up so easily? As I have already said, remember on
what terms I accepted Kendrick?’
    ‘You said that I was on the
streets and he was the neophyte for a provisional period of one year.’ Irene
glared into Ms Manning’s eyes, no longer conscious of their social standing or
their nakedness, determined only to put her anger across.
    ‘Exactly.’ Ms Manning nodded
calmly. ‘He has one year to foul up, and you have one year in which to prove
yourself.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Irene’s
anger dissipated immediately. ‘Do you mean that I still have a chance to become
your neophyte?’
    ‘Why do you think I brought you
here?’ Ms Manning raised her eyebrows again. ‘Kendrick was the obvious