Abominatia sat brooding in her own private director’s dressing room, drumming her fingers on the table.
‘Guh!’ she huffed. Had she definitely made sure that no one knew the truth about Gruntilda? All of a sudden, Abominatia couldn’t remember what she’d done with the torn-up scorecard and it worried her in the pit of her stomach. What if … ?
Just then she heard a rustling coming from the storeroom next door – and suddenly remembered where she’d stuffed the card.
Abominatia rose slowly from her seat and sniffed the air.
‘Overling,’ she grunted.
Something wasn’t right …