No more rats

So, sitting at my window with the baby gurgling contentedly on my lap I check my emails. I see one from the agent. I convince myself that because she emailed not called it's a no. I decide not to open it. Tears drop onto baby Bruno's head. He turns around and gives me a puzzled look.

V: What? Your aunt is a failure. What?
B: Dazzling smile.
V: Oh bugger it, I'll look then.

I open the email. She's read the first 100 pages. She likes it. She wants to meet.

4.30 next Wednesday in Soho.

I am wetting myself in anticipation. Bruno has given me an enormous celebratory fart. It's a family thing.