Giselle was still waiting for Becky to arrive at the hotel. Already having her second cup of tea, she looked at the endless array of plates and platters and saucers filled with a variety of delicacies celebrating the venerable tradition of afternoon tea. She did not have much of an apetite. She'd rather hear from her friend all about her new record, how it came along, why she had decided to go down a less commercial but more artistic path and style. How she had eschewed beats and effects in favour of melodies and emotions. But the voice was still brilliant as ever, ready to reach the depths of your heart and mind. "Come on Becky!" she thought. And then a smile brightened her face: her friend had just entered the salon,
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