3 – Sarah, Toni and Jamal.

-x-

'Right. Who's the white wine, and who's the Guiness?'

Toni Tiddlesly reached across with a smile for her beer, leaving Sarah Jackson to her dry white wine.

'Thanks, Frazz.' Sarah checked herself. 'Sorry! Jamal.'

The man Christened Fraser Davis and formerly known as Frazz, but now named Jamal Islam grinned into his orange juice. 'That's OK, I'll let it slide this time. I do have to warn you, though; next slip up and I'll have to issue a Fatwa on you. 'S'nothing personal, just Secret Evil Muslim Policy, I'm afraid.'

Sarah just blinked at him. Jamal leaned into her, conspiratorially as Toni giggled.

'That was a joke, Sarah. You shouldn't believe everything you read in The Sun, you know – we don't all have our sense of irony surgically removed when we convert.'

'I don't think that's very funny,' replied Sarah.

'Well.' Jamal sipped his juice. 'Your wife didn't have her Hijab ripped off her head at Tesco's last week.'

'I haven't got a wife.'

'You probably need to work on that.'

Toni laughed. 'And there was me worrying that getting Religion would stop you being such a sarcastic bastard.' She took another sup. 'Did you notice the Paps outside? Bloody vultures,'

Sarah shook her head. 'Paparazzi at a newspaper editor's wake. That's not vulturism, that's cannibalism.'

'Reckon they're here for you?' Toni asked the other woman.

Sarah shook her head. 'They'll be there for them.' She nodded towards Kenny and his model girlfriend, perching at the bar.

'He's a jammy bugger, isn't he?' Jamal breathed. 'You know what I heard? That she saw him on TV one day and before the evening she was on a plane to Kyoto to watch him on tour.'

'I heard she sent a new present to his dressing room every night,' added Sarah. 'Customised guitars, signed limited edition Beatles records… didn't even say who they were from for the first fortnight. And this was while she was still with Ben Affleck. Apparently she ditched him by email from a Cyber Cafe in Jakarta.'

'Whatever the stories,' said Toni, watching the couple quietly sipping their drinks, 'they shift more magazines these days than the Beckhams. They're like a Blue Peter version of Kate Moss and Pete Docherty – the kids love 'em. To catch a snapshot of them comforting each other at a funeral would be quite a coup. Especially with you there too, Sarah.'

'You don't think…' started Jamal before shaking his head dismissively. 'Nah…'

'What?' Chorused the women.

'They wouldn't be from Lynda's paper, would they?' Jamal asked, quietly. 'After all, she'd know they'd be there, and it would be great for her sales…'

Toni cast a sad glance over at Lynda, who was sitting in a corner being Talked At by a couple of sycophantic journalists, and looking utterly miserable. 'No,' she sighed at the others. 'I think there's a lot on her mind today, but I doubt that using her old friends' presence at her mentor's funeral as tomorrow's front page is one of them.'

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the other woman. 'They're with you, aren't they?'

Toni raised her eyebrows, her still youthful looking face a picture of well rehearsed girlish innocence. 'Sarah, please! You can say what you like about the Beeb dumbing down, but we haven't quite stooped to Pap Snaps yet.'

'Right.' Sarah cast her eyes down, sheepishly. 'Sorry.' She offered Toni a lopsided smile. 'Only you can understand how difficult I find trusting journalists, having worked with so many.'

Toni beamed. 'Not a problem. Now.' She whipped a small Dictaphone from her pocket and held it towards Sarah. 'Tell me all about your new book.'

'Tiddler!' Exclaimed Sarah, forgetting that Toni hadn't used that nickname in years.

'You can't blame her for trying,' grinned Jamal, 'She's an Entertainments Correspondent - it is her job.'

'I'm not Entertainments,' protested Sarah, 'I'm Arts & Literature! It's a whole different colour of cheese!'

'Come on, Sarah,' Toni goaded, 'after twenty years of friendship you could at least tell me who's going to die…'

'…I kill off a new character,' snapped Sarah. 'It's an annoying little journo who likes spoiling surprises, so she gets battered to death with her own pint of beer.'

'Just as long as it's not Petunia,' added Jamal. 'You're not allowed to kill Petunia.'

'They're my characters!'

'I've got four daughters, Sarah. Four of them and they all love Petunia to bits. Can you imagine what my house would be like if you killed her off? Do you ever spare a thought for the suffering of the Fathers when you write these books?'

'They're just books…'

'No,' continued Jamal, 'Petunia has to make it to the end. And then preferably denounce her past of Witchcraft, read the Qur'an and marry a nice Muslim boy.'

Sarah squeezed the bridge of her nose. 'And why should I do that, Jamal?'

'Hello? Fatwa!'

'That's it.' Sarah got up from the table. 'I'm going to rescue Lynda. Or get her to rescue me…'

She wondered off in Lynda's direction, leaving Jamal and Toni to exchange mischievous glances.

'It is going to be Petunia, isn't it?'

Toni put her Dictaphone back into her pocket. 'No. It's Willy The Wizard. Somebody at her Publisher's leaked it two days ago.'

Jamal tutted. 'But Willy was my favourite!'