Married Under the Italian Sun

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‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, here we are again with your favourite TV programme, Star On My Team, when the famous-and sometimes the infamous-ha-ha!-team up with you to win fabulous prizes…’

Sitting backstage, Angel prayed for the burbling introduction to be over soon. In fact, she thought, please let the whole mindless business be over. Just as her marriage was over, and only awaited a decent burial.

The presenter was getting into his stride.

‘On my right, Mr and Mrs Barker, and their famous team member-’He named the star of a minor soap opera. Watching the backstage screen, Angel saw him enter, flashing his teeth and grandstanding to the audience.

Nina, her personal assistant, surveyed her with critical approval.

‘You look perfect,’ she said.

Of course she did. Angel always looked perfect. That was her function. Long blonde hair, large, dark-blue eyes, slender figure encased in a tight gold dress, cut teasingly low. Masses of glittering, tasteless jewellery. Bling, bling!

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