Amateur Night at the Blue Nile
“Are we nearly there yet? This doesn’t look anywhere classy.” Clarissa tried to keep the petulance out of her voice. She knew she should be flattered by the stretch-limo and the Dom Perignon, glass number three of which was fizzing its way down her throat, but why the hell were they driving about dingy back-streets? “Relax,” her companion said. “Shoreditch is the new Soho. Home to all manner of delights. Where we’re going is a different type of exclusive.” The way he said it made her shiver...