But what was she bothering her head with such thoughts for? He wanted her to drive him-her! Inwardly beaming, Yancie, after her car-washing activities, would have loved to have taken a shower before she presented hersclf on the top floor.

Not to worry, though; she had a fresh shirt in her locker, and a quick freshen-up of her make-up and a comb run through her shoulder length ash-blonde hair, and she'd be as good as new.

It puzzled her when, at half past three, hair combed, fresh lipstick applied, she went and asked Kevin what car she would be driving and he replied he'd had no instructions yet about where she was going. His instructions were that she present herself at four.

'I'll sort a vehicle out when I come back,' she decided. Given the choice, she fancied the Jaguar, but, of course, Mr Wakefield might have his own preference.

Yancie made her way to the top floor with her head filled with speculations on how far afield the chief man might want to be driven. Working overtime never bothered her, so if he had it in mind to be driven up to Scotland that was all right by her-though she'd have to ring either Astra or Fennia to tell them not to expect her home.

All of which was just so much flight of fancy, she smiled to herself as, finding the door she was looking for, she knocked lightly and went in.

'Yancie Dawkins?' enquired the woman in her mid-forties Kevin had told her was Thomas Wakefield's PA.

'That's right,' Yancie answered easily, her upbringing and education making her feel perfectly at ease in any company. `Mr Wakefield is expecting me.'

'If you'd like to take a seat,' Veronica Taylor suggested pleasantly.

Yancie took the seat indicated, and waited. And waited. Four-fifteen came and went-and still she waited. `Does Mr Wakefield know I'm here?' she asked his PA.

'Oh, yes,' his PA answered, her tone as pleasant as ever.

Four-thirty came-and went. Wishing she'd brought a book to read, Yancie wondered if perhaps the great man had been held up on a phone call. For thirty minutes!