Christopher Ellingham felt quite pleased with himself. For a man prone to arrogance and self-congratulation, it was not an unusual sensation but, after a difficult few days, it was nevertheless quite a relief.

The atmosphere at home of late had been frosty, ever since Margaret had twigged to his little dalliance at the Geneva conference. It had been nothing really, just some young marketing assistant from the sponsoring pharmaceutical company, abandoned by her associates and teetering around in one of the hotel bars. He'd spotted her as he was making his way to the bathroom; the short skirt and the high heels had been enough to garner his attention. The fact that she was clearly inebriated and young enough to be his daughter had not discouraged him in the least and he'd offered, in a show of faux gallantry, to escort her safely back to her room.

Within twenty five minutes he was back in the bar, slightly flushed in the face but not a hair out of place, buying a round for his chums, and feeling rather smug. Unfortunately for him, upon his return home, Margaret had decided to have his dinner jacket dry cleaned, and his smugness had well and truly evaporated when she had discovered the condom wrapper in a pocket.

They'd been through this before, and he knew that Margaret needed his money and social status too much for her to cause too much of an uproar. Nevertheless, her determined silence was irritating and the sulking irked him beyond measure. He just hoped that she'd hurry up and get over it or a visit to Asprey might have to be on the cards.

However, a form of truce had eventuated when, late last week, Margaret had arrived home from lunch with their son in a mood that he could only describe as cold fury. He had discovered himself clearly the lesser of two evils, and had been obliged to listen to her litany of complaints about Martin; primarily his ingratitude, disrespect and irresponsibility.

Christopher had initially struggled to follow her logic, and could only really glean that she was furious because Martin had suggested he was about to propose to some girl that they hadn't even been introduced to. To be honest, aside from his feeling of affront, he was totally astounded that strange, socially-inept Martin even had it in him to attempt a relationship with a woman. Once the shock wore off, he realised that there was now quite a tricky situation to manage because their only son's choice of partner had wide reaching implications for both he and his wife. Then, as he saw the coldness in her eyes and her thin lipped snarl as she recounted the lunchtime conversation to him, he smiled artfully to himself. Margaret had transferred her disappointment and rage to another recipient, and he had received a pardon of sorts. They were now united against a common foe.

From then on, Christopher knew what he needed to do. A few discrete enquiries at the Hospital, a few rounds shouted at the 19th Hole, and a favour or two called in at his club was all that was required. He flipped open the little notebook he'd started to carry around with him when he realised the old memory wasn't what it used to be, and glanced down at the notes he'd made the previous day.

Edith Montgomery

Army Brat.

Qn. Ethelburga's Collegiate-Harrogate

Young Conservatives.

Gynae

There was quite a lot of other tittle-tattle imparted to him that he had decided not to commit to paper. He did not know whether to envy Martin or pity him as it appeared that Edith had quite the reputation as a man eater with an apparently voracious appetite. That she was also considered ruthless, ambitious and mercenary did not make her altogether unacceptable to him, but it helped to know one's adversary so that one could be prepared.

He scribbled down her name and handed the note to Valerie, his imperturbable secretary of nearly twenty years.

"Find her." He said firmly. "Lunch on Friday."

She recognised the tone and inflection of his voice as that which he used when she was about to be complicit in covering up another of his little extra-marital indiscretions.

She allowed herself a slight purse of the lips, and nodded.

"And would you like me to arrange the lunch venue as well, Mr Ellingham?"

"My club. Half past one."

She glanced down at the paper he'd given her, and smiled when she noticed he'd torn his letterhead off. Leave no evidence, she thought to herself.

The name didnt mean anything to Valerie but a call to Betty on the switchboard or Barbara at reception would secure the details she needed. Nothing escaped Barbara's attention and if she didn't know the answer, she would know who to ask. The three of them made quite a formidable trio. She picked up the phone and dialled nought.

Later that afternoon, Edith stared at the note she'd been given, feeling mild confusion. She'd rolled her eyes when she'd thought it was a message from Ellingham but then she'd re-read it. It was an invitation to lunch with Mr. Christopher Ellingham. On Friday. At his club. A triumphant smile began to spread across her face. Everything was finally falling in to place.

When she'd first seduced his terrified and reluctant son, she'd done so because of the younger Ellingham's connections and his growing reputation. It was true that she'd been feeling a bit sorry for herself that Saturday as her lover, an up-and-coming MP, was getting married. A chance to bed the son of an eminent surgeon, with such an impressive pedigree, was a nice little fillip in an otherwise dreary weekend.

However, while she'd soon knocked him into shape in the bedroom, Ellingham had been a huge disappointment on the networking and social connection front. He was diffident and introverted, and she'd wasted months trying for self advancement via their association. She'd used every skill in her extensive repertoire of manipulative behaviours, and she didn't give in easily, but he'd remained intractable. In the end Edith had conceded, and decided to move on to the next.

She'd always had more than one man on the go, and she'd had several more lovers since she'd given up on him; she'd always needed the variety that monogamy just didn't provide and, while Ellingham did have some excellent attributes, Edith did find him a bit vanilla for her tastes. She'd learned early on not to expect him to indulge her in any of her deviant desires no matter how mild she considered they were. Fortunately, there were plenty of other men out there that were prepared to satisfy her more obligingly than Ellingham would.

Most disappointingly though she was back to stage one in her quest for the arm of a distinguished and wealthy man, and just about to make a play for a feted young Australian Heart Surgeon when the article about the Ellinghams appeared in The Times. Subsequently, a faint buzz had passed through society mothers and gossip magazine editors, both desperate for some new grist for their mills. Outside of Med School, no one had ever really noticed him much but, in Edith's eyes, the recent spotlight on Martin Ellingham suddenly made him desirable again. She decided to regroup and plan her attack.

Goodness knows, Ellingham was impossible to read at the best of times but the lunch invitation from his father, the pre-emininent surgeon and bon vivant, had come completely out of the blue. Throughout their relationship, he'd never shown the slightest inclination to introduce her to his parents. In fact he barely mentioned them. Puzzling though it was, Edith felt that the invitation must therefore be significant, and so the triumphant smile lingered on on her lips for quite some time.