With the first intensity of Joshs attack, Rita was struck breathless. As she was lifted off her feet, she grabbed at Joshs shirt, her nails scrabbling at the material and the skin beneath.

"You goddamn, bloody slag! You're not wanted here, do you understand me. You get yourself and your damn notes out of here and fast,"

Shaking Rita like an oversized rag-doll, Josh dropped her to the ground, where she staggered, barely managing to keep herself from falling. Oh, great, Cloud, she hissed, An outstanding display of the sportsmanship you are so well known for. Why didnt you just give me a black eye and have done with? Or is hitting a woman below even your standards?

Giving her jacket a tug to straighten it, Rita took a half a pace back and glowered at the former beater, towering over her. Cloud, when I get through telling this little story youll be lucky if you can get a job reporting on the bowls championship for the Bournemouth Parish Gazette! Joshy-boy, Im afraid you just cocked up royally!

Doing an abrupt about-face, only slightly lessened in its effect by another stagger, Rita patted at her ridged hair and stormed across the small courtyard and back to the door into the entrance hall. There she turned and surveyed the chaos she was leaving behind her: Morela, still on the ground and struggling to get her legs to work; Josh, staring after her, scarlet faced; River, pinned by Benjy in one of the chairs, and the rest of the company looking around in open-mouthed surprise. Well, no one could ever say she hadnt made an impact. Mark my words, Cloud. Youll regret this. With that, she stepped into the cool dark of the entrance hall and making sure that there was no one to see her, apparated back to her flat and a LARGE firewhisky, neat.