It was ironic, she had thought, that this holidaywhich she had thought would start to rebuild her selfesteem, was threatening to wreck it further . Just at the moment. I heard her from the garden. For Thursday morning,' saidTom.
She looked at Minty,sleeping miraculously through all this; she had given a littlesigh, and turned over, her thumb in her mouth, her bottomstuck up in the air. 'Absolutely wonderful. A vast bouquet of flowers had been deliveredfrom her father: the four of them had all gone out to dinner,but when they had got home, she had flown Couldn't be the press, the lastjournalist had left that morning, having finally beenpersuaded by Tom that there was no more story, no pointin staying.
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