by Vaughan Savidge
Diane sat by the phone and waited for it to ring. While she waited she glanced across
to where her secretary would sit ... to the area she had set aside for her marketing
executives ... to the area where her councillors would greet her clients.
"What a clever boy he is" she mused to herself. It had been her husband's
idea to set up a business - get her out of the house - give her an interest.
"But my charities - my balls" she had protested at first. Then she slowly
allowed herself to be brought 'round to the opinion that it wasn't such a bad idea after
all. She would already be in town at lunch time - so much more convenient for those little
tęte a tętes with Chantal, Crystal and Flora.
Her vigil by the phone was interrupted. Not by it ringing, but by a thought. "How
silly of me" she thought rather loudly to herself "of course the phone won't
ring. I can only dial out". Diane had started "Diane's School of Self
Publicity" the way she meant to continue, by making sure her company could transmit
its wisdom without being impeded by any in-coming information - very much like Diane's own
philosophy of life. She formed the words in her mind. She knew the press would be on to
her soon for a statement about this, her latest exciting venture.
"The idea for the school came to me after I saw a popular concert given in Hong
Kong where the artist was given almost equal billing with the promoter! Well, of course
this sort of thing is not de rigueur in this part of the world. I decided then and
there that there were so many self-publicist's crying out for professional help, some of
them turning to the church for help, some of them naming themselves after well-known
brands of margarine - not to put too fine a point on it...."
Her reverie was broken by a hammering on the door.
It was Crystal.
"Oh my God. I'd completely forgotten we were having lunch today."
"But we have lunch together every day" she cooed in reply.
