A night at the opera for Grace and Helen and Francesca. And, as is appropriate, and traditional, and altogether in keeping with the reverence for the eternal verities that has so marked the telling of this tale, the end is signalled when the fat lady sings..
Not that anyone would ever call that epitome of svelte elegance, Grace de Messembry, fat! Even if she were surely no-one would dare? No I speak metaphorically only of course..
So no more secrets as we, you and I dear reader, eavesdrop from our privileged position in the back of the Royal Box at Covent Garden on the three guiding lights of the Venumar Foundation. The plain unvarnished, well relatively so, truth that no-one except you and I ........... .
But hush .... Listen .... Look .... The auditorium is stilled in expectancy. The baton raised, twice tapped, raised again. Poised .... Ssshhhhh ....
