TEST DRAFT 3 With LLaregub footnotes The Boy Who Shot Flimzy Bubbletrumpett- macbook 2

Miss Arnside, he said with a slight emphasis on the second name, and the faintest brushstroke
of a smile, What can I get you?
Just two coffees? I shall tempt you with something stronger afterwards. After all, you will not
be driving!
He noticed that Artemesia was gazing up at a portrait on the library wall. It looked like the
work of Lorenzo Lotto, but it was modern. A picture of a woman, a modern portrait but done
in a style that made clever references to the great Renaissance master.
The tilt of the head, the draped silk scarf the hands that held a sprig of cherry blossom.
But there was something modern about the expression, the half smile; something frank and
open, despite the suggestion of a blush in the pinkness of the cheeks. Artemesia felt the artist
had deliberately said something, something outrageous and daring, something unexpected and
slightly shocking, and said it just so that she could capture that expression.
Beautiful isn’t it. It’s by Fran Polda. 31 She’s made quite a name for herself now, but was
almost unknown when that was painted. It is of my first wife.
5
The Great Hall of the Place of the Golden Moon was packed to capacity. Chairs had been
provided only for those heads of state whose age prevented them standing for any length of
time.
A path marked for the arrival of the president had been cleared down the centre of the room, it
led to a dais in the centre of which stood a chair.
James McQuarry had arrived only slightly later than some of the other important delegates
and now stood with several others beside the gilded chair on the raised dais at the end of The
Great Hall.
Artemesia had to remain in the administrative quarters attached to the palace and was in the
gardens where a huge screen had been erected for staff to watch the proceedings. A distant
roar from outside The Great Hall signalled the approach of the armoured bus containing The
Six and the new president as it passed through cheering crowds. Gradually the roar grew in
intensity as the bus approached the gates of the palace. In the garden with a cold glass of
white wine in her hand Artemesia watched the progress of the bus on the giant screens. It was
completely surrounded by the surging crowd that had pushed forward to catch a glimpse of
the president through the windows of the bus, but it was futile to try, the black reflective
widows gave nothing away. Some of the cheering crowd threw flowers and strewed rose
petals in front of the bus, others held up small children, hand painted signs and one man, a
young goat, as if making offerings to some sacred vehicle.
But all the crowd could see as the bus edged its way forward were Nils the driver, and Kathy
beside him on the front seat.
At first Nils and Kathy had tried to ignore the crowd, but as the bus got nearer to the palace
where the crowd was more tightly back and they could go no faster than a slow walking pace,
the infectious good humour of the cheering crowd began to take effect. They wound down the
windows, smiled and waved, stretched out their arms to touch the finger tips of the
outstretched hands of the surrounding crowd. It was almost as though they had become the
focus of the whole event, as if they were some fairy tale royal couple on the way to their
coronations, and the bus a golden coach.
Inside The Great Hall the cheering became deafening and any kind of conversation
impossible. Presidents, Prime Ministers, The Pope, Arch Bishops, ex-presidents, queens,
kings, sultans, princes and princesses, prime ministers stood and shuffled awkwardly from
! 32