Rescuing Rose. Isabel Wolff

no ‘bollockings’ for a while. But my workload’s piling up what with pre-Christmas depression; well I’m feeling pretty gloomy myself. I spent last year’s in a blissful romantic blur; I’ll spend this one alone and semi-divorced.

      ‘Christmas…suicidal,’ said Serena perkily as she logged the letters yesterday. ‘Christmas, just can’t cope. Christmas, want to kill myself,’ she went on briskly. ‘Christmas, I wish I was dead…’

      ‘Okay Serena, I get the picture.’

      ‘Mind you, I think Christmas is going to be pre-tty grim for us this year,’ she went on serenely as she tucked her hair behind one ear. I looked at her when she said that and realised that she’s suddenly going rather grey. ‘I mean, it’s such an expensive time,’ she said with a shudder. Well, yes, but she and her husband both work. ‘And you see Rob’s been a bit traumatised since his little accident