Right before the lunch rush begins, Rosie edges into the office. “Wazzer? There’s a…a crazy lady who wants to talk to you?”

“Cool!” says Wazzer, springing up from the desk.

When she sees who’s waiting, she makes a note to herself to have a word with Rosie about moneyed Wellington. Though she has to admit, it can be challenging to tell the difference between a crazy lady and a rich lady. Especially on days like today.

A raddled, wind-swept old woman is peering around. But Wazzer remembers that rectangular face. “Wilhelmina, right? Win’s mum? How’s it going? Bit of weather, eh?” Wazzer says.

“Summer,” says Wilhelmina Wellington, “is most definitely over.” She places her sodden bag on a table and whisks off her rumpled, rain-dappled coat to reveal avant-garde merino and pearls beneath. A pass of her hand across her forehead, and her exquisite haircut falls into place.  “So I thought a nice pub supper would be just the thing for my husband’s retirement party. Do you have any Fridays in June for a function?”

“We might! Come back into the office!” Wazzer beams.

The booking is soon made (“beef and Guinness pie, just the thing”), and it’s all very jolly and amenable, and Wilhelmina even says, “I’m a sponsor of the Women in Business group, do come along to our next meeting, it’s just next Tuesday, drinks and nibbles.”

Wazzer happily agrees.

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