Taking her cue from the others already leaving the box Verity followed the tall American man who was parting the spectators with all the alacrity of Moses at the Red Sea, heart racing as she tried to get her breathing back under control.

She had never imagined that the mere thought of Mrs Abercrombie dying would have affected her so much - or perhaps it was the thought of her position being gone just like that? She was under no illusion that her talents were specifically useful to precisely one socialite and the thought of trying to find work that made her feel quite so necessary was impossibly awful.

Whatever the reason Verity knew that her mistress would be in distress, and knew that making herself invaluable was her ticket to the future, so once she had sidestepped the crowd she immediately made her way towards the entrance of the higher boxes. They would let her in now, she would insist, shout if she needed to, bandy her employers name around like a sabre until they relented if she had to, but by hook or by crook she was going to be by Mrs Abercrombie’s side.

And make sure the other woman remembered that fact.

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   Christopher Moony