‘I hear he’s paying her ten thousand a year.’ Marnie leant back in her seat and took a long drag on her cigarette.

‘And a fair bit else besides – usually late at night bent over his desk,’ Janice said, and the others laughed.

‘Who are you talking about?’ Sylvia asked. She slipped off her coat and lit a cigarette proffered by Marnie, whose cleavage heaved as she leaned forward. As usual, the fashion editor’s eye-catching outfit made the most of her natural assets – her patterned wrap dress cut a deep V over her ample bosom, which seemed on the brink of spilling out altogether. Though Sylvia thought it crazy to wear clothes like that to work, she sort of admired her devil-may-care attitude in the face of the men’s regular jibes. Marnie didn’t even seem to mind they’d nicknamed her ‘bouncy castle’. Of course, it had occurred to Sylvia that flaunting what she had gave her colleague certain advantages.

‘Jean Yardley-Jones,’ Marnie said. ‘Columnist at the Mirror. Rumour has it she’s going to take over from Elizabeth Franks at the Express next month.’

‘Oh right. I’ve read her stuff, she’s a good writer.’

‘And good at blow jobs, apparently.’ Janice cackled and the others joined in. Sylvia was weary of rumours like these, but she knew there was likely to be truth in it. She remembered Janice hinting as much about Valerie and Roger. An open secret – to all except their spouses, apparently. Was that why Valerie basically had free rein to interview whomever she liked?

‘Valerie’s furious because it wasn’t offered to her.’ Marnie lowered her voice and added with a smirk, ‘Doesn’t realise it’s only Roger who thinks the sun shines out of her arse.’

With a glance to her right, Marnie got up, heading for the ladies, and to Sylvia’s surprise Valerie sidled through the throng and sat down next to her, a glass of sherry in her hand.

‘Shouldn’t it be champagne?’ Valerie nodded towards Sylvia’s glass. ‘I hear you’ve done rather well.’

Sylvia cocked her head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your piece on women’s lib in Switzerland. Sam had less of a workout than he was expecting. I didn’t hear him swear once.’

‘He’s subbed it?’

Valerie blew out smoke above Sylvia’s head. ‘Said it wasn’t bad at all. Though of course you knew it was good, didn’t you?’

Sylvia couldn’t suppress a smile. She’d worked bloody hard on the feature, and yes, she knew it was good, but she’d still felt concerned that somehow it wouldn’t make it past Roger’s critical eye or sub-editor Sam’s ruthless pencil. ‘When’s it going in, do you know?’

‘Friday, I believe.’