Not one of the CROWD
Poppy smiled wearily up at the woman who was offering the book she’d just bought.
‘Could you write “To Cecilia” as well? That’s me.’
‘With pleasure.’
She scribbled the salutation and her professional name, PD Tremayne, stretched her arm and wriggled her shoulders to get rid of the tension. The queue in the bookshop seemed never-ending.
Marion, the publisher’s assistant, who’d accompanied her on this publicity tour, was smiling with satisfaction.
Poppy was aware of a headache and felt hemmed in, stifled by the crush of women pushing copies of her book forward to her table. Marion seemed to sense how she felt.
‘Another 10 copies, ladies, and that will be all Miss Tremayne has time for, I’m afraid.’ There was a general groan of dismay. ‘She has to be at the Crocker Awards in exactly half an hour.’
Blast! I’d forgotten all about that, thought Poppy miserably. All I want is a hot bath, a stiff drink and bed, in that order.
She repaired her face in the taxi on the way to the Conway Hotel, with Marion chattering on.
‘There’ll be displays of all the books in the foyer,’ she said. ‘Luckily, Not Quite One of Us has such a great jacket, you can’t miss it. You’re at the same table as the critic from The Reporter, so try to be polite.’
‘I wish
