Gold Diggers Read Online Free PDF Page B

make it. As she passed the group, she could see Sally Stevenson sidle up to Charlie and say, ‘Funny fish, that one, isn’t she?’
    She couldn’t hear Charlie’s reply.

4
    Karin strode into the Great Hall of Strawberry Hill House to give it one final check before heading back to London to get a blow-dry. It was certainly a magnificent room and Karin had very, very high standards. The marble pillars had been wrapped in gold-tipped ivy matching the mansion’s incredible gilded ceilings. The ballroom was studded with bay trees sprayed white, and a long catwalk extended through the sea of tables – Karin had insisted that the vital ingredient of the night’s entertainment would be a showcase of the Karin Cavendish cruise collection. There were ice sculptures, huge vases of Calla lilies and a small stage festooned with waves of ivory voile on which Havana’s finest jazz band were due to play. She stood back and smiled. She knew she had got it just right.
    Karin had spent three months deciding on this venue for the global warming benefit dinner because it had to be perfect. Central London was out; the venues which could accommodate big numbers for dinner and dancing were so over used and frankly, a little déclassé. No, Karin knew that if the Stop Global Warming benefit was going to make a splash, it would have to be somewhere elegant and original,and in Strawberry Hill House, a stunning Gothic mansion fifteen miles outside London, she knew she had found the place. Even being so bloody far from Chelsea had its benefits; at least thirty guests were arriving by helicopter, adding a further dash of exclusivity to the evening. The irony of using helicopters in place of cars or taxis to arrive an event aimed at highlighting the perils of global warming was not lost on Karin, but then her heart was in the party, and certainly not the cause. Global warming! Why on earth would she want to trade her BMW X5 for one of those ridiculous hybrid cars that looked as if they were used to transport OAPs? The way Karin looked at it, if she was raising a few million for the penguins and the polar bears, then they could turn a blind eye to a few teensy helicopters.
    ‘Hey, look lively, here comes the dragon,’ whispered one of the hand-picked models-cum-waiters who started polishing the crystal goblets frantically as Karin approached. Erin stifled a giggle before putting her head down to examine the table plan.
    ‘I said Verbena roses, not Iceberg roses,’ snapped Karin at Jamie Marshall. Jamie was one of the country’s premier florists, and was currently working like a camp demon on islands of roses for the table centrepieces.
    ‘But Karin, darling,’ he whined. ‘They are both white roses, who will notice the diff—’
    ‘Change them,’ said Karin emphatically, and moved on before he had time to object.
    ‘You!’ Karin had turned her attention to a waiter who was putting the menus on the crisp white tablecloths. ‘Get me some blueberries to nibble on. Organic … And you! Haven’t you been home to change?’
    Erin winced, feeling for the poor waiter about to get a tongue-lashing.
    ‘Erin! I’m talking to you!’ Karin snapped.
    ‘Me? I … I thought …’ said Erin, flustered. ‘But I have changed.’ She looked down at her outfit, embarrassed. It was a knee-length black shift dress with a little diamanté buckle she had bought at the Next January sale to wear to Richard’s Law School Ball. It made her feel pretty, slim and demure.
    She caught Karin rolling her eyes. Five minutes ago she had felt a little like Audrey Hepburn; now she felt hopelessly inadequate.
    ‘Oh well. At least it’s black,’ sighed Karin.
    Since Erin’s first call from the Deskhop Agency, three weeks had passed in a blur. Erin had been surprised to have been offered the job on the spot by Karin Cavendish, especially as she had been so nervous in the interview after recognizing Karin from the society pages of the Mail . Karin had wanted her to