holding a tennis racket in one hand and an iPhone in the other. He didn’t bother taking his earplugs out to talk to her.
‘I hope you have a really nice day. I bet you’ll both do really well.’
‘What about food?’ Maria asked, looking alarmed all over again. ‘If it is all day, I must make more than the drinks and snacks I pack.’
Yann glanced at his watch. ‘Please don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. We should go …’
‘Are you sure? Really?’ Maria asked.
‘Maria, they will be fine,’ Elena said a little sternly. ‘Boys, have a great time. We’ll see you later.’
‘This is so cool,’ Petrov said as he stepped out of the front door behind Yann and his big brother. ‘I get to play in a tournament – and I’m not even any good!’
Chapter Thirteen
Milan
Svetlana at ease:
Navy and gold swimsuit (Melissa Odabash)
Gold mules (Manolo Blahnik)
White towelling robe (hotel property)
White towel round head (same)
Black and gold shades (Chanel)
Gold and sapphire earrings (Harry Winston – jeweller)
Marquise-shaped solitaire diamond ring
(Harry Roscoff – husband)
Total est. cost: £36,000
FINALLY IT WAS lunchtime on day two of Annie’s spa stay. She had staggered to the dining room feeling barely alive.
Somehow she had survived yesterday: a lunch of vile slimy green vegetable juice, an afternoon of brutal lymphatic drainage massage, and dinner, a measly bowl of vegetable broth. She’d escaped the enema action too – so far.
Her stomach sloshing with the huge jug of water she’d drunk before bed in an attempt to feel slightly fuller, she’d managed to sleep for six hours or so before violent hunger pangs and a pressing need to wee had woken her up early.
From 5.30 a.m. till 7 a.m., she’d made an exhaustive search of her room, trying to find something – anything – to eat. She’d even considered shredding some of the bedding and chewing it down.
She’d made it through the two cups of water with lemon juice labelled ‘breakfast’ then a torturous two-hour yoga class. Then she’d practically had to crawl half delirious with fatigue and hunger into the dining room where she knew that only an evil vegetable juice awaited her.
She was now halfway down the glass of dismal green goo – she suspected both celery and raw courgette were lurking in there – and was honestly contemplating eating the starched white napkin when Svetlana swanned in, swathed in white towelling, bling jewels and glowing with unbearable smug happiness.
‘Look at my stomach,’ were Svetlana’s words of greeting as a waiter moved forward to pull up a chair for her at Annie’s table.
‘Your stomach is always as flat as a washboard,’ Annie said, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice. Extreme dieting always made her feel like this: vicious, wounded and malevolent.
‘I’ve had two enemas already today. This is the secret,’ Svetlana confided. ‘This is how to get your colon moving, cleansing, shedding all your debris. I already lose four kilos!’
More than eight pounds. It wasn’t possible. How could Svetlana have already lost more than eight pounds?
‘Have you had enema yet?’ Svetlana asked.
Annie put her lips to her juice straw and avoided eye contact.
‘Annah,’ Svetlana’s tone was stern, ‘you cannot come for the programme and not have the enemas. This is the most important part. Everyone is nervous the first time. But after one, is easy.’
‘But—’
‘No but. The people here are so professional and so caring. You will find it relaxing: the water draining in, the toxins draining out.’
‘But—’
‘Shhh!’ Svetlana shook her head. ‘Is no problem. I promise you.’
‘I can’t! I just can’t do it,’ Annie blurted out.
‘They help you to put everything in place, then they leave you to relax for about forty minutes.’
‘Forty minutes!’
It sounded worse than she’d imagined.
‘Some litres of coffee need to go up. It takes
‘I hope you have a really nice day. I bet you’ll both do really well.’
‘What about food?’ Maria asked, looking alarmed all over again. ‘If it is all day, I must make more than the drinks and snacks I pack.’
Yann glanced at his watch. ‘Please don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. We should go …’
‘Are you sure? Really?’ Maria asked.
‘Maria, they will be fine,’ Elena said a little sternly. ‘Boys, have a great time. We’ll see you later.’
‘This is so cool,’ Petrov said as he stepped out of the front door behind Yann and his big brother. ‘I get to play in a tournament – and I’m not even any good!’
Chapter Thirteen
Milan
Svetlana at ease:
Navy and gold swimsuit (Melissa Odabash)
Gold mules (Manolo Blahnik)
White towelling robe (hotel property)
White towel round head (same)
Black and gold shades (Chanel)
Gold and sapphire earrings (Harry Winston – jeweller)
Marquise-shaped solitaire diamond ring
(Harry Roscoff – husband)
Total est. cost: £36,000
FINALLY IT WAS lunchtime on day two of Annie’s spa stay. She had staggered to the dining room feeling barely alive.
Somehow she had survived yesterday: a lunch of vile slimy green vegetable juice, an afternoon of brutal lymphatic drainage massage, and dinner, a measly bowl of vegetable broth. She’d escaped the enema action too – so far.
Her stomach sloshing with the huge jug of water she’d drunk before bed in an attempt to feel slightly fuller, she’d managed to sleep for six hours or so before violent hunger pangs and a pressing need to wee had woken her up early.
From 5.30 a.m. till 7 a.m., she’d made an exhaustive search of her room, trying to find something – anything – to eat. She’d even considered shredding some of the bedding and chewing it down.
She’d made it through the two cups of water with lemon juice labelled ‘breakfast’ then a torturous two-hour yoga class. Then she’d practically had to crawl half delirious with fatigue and hunger into the dining room where she knew that only an evil vegetable juice awaited her.
She was now halfway down the glass of dismal green goo – she suspected both celery and raw courgette were lurking in there – and was honestly contemplating eating the starched white napkin when Svetlana swanned in, swathed in white towelling, bling jewels and glowing with unbearable smug happiness.
‘Look at my stomach,’ were Svetlana’s words of greeting as a waiter moved forward to pull up a chair for her at Annie’s table.
‘Your stomach is always as flat as a washboard,’ Annie said, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice. Extreme dieting always made her feel like this: vicious, wounded and malevolent.
‘I’ve had two enemas already today. This is the secret,’ Svetlana confided. ‘This is how to get your colon moving, cleansing, shedding all your debris. I already lose four kilos!’
More than eight pounds. It wasn’t possible. How could Svetlana have already lost more than eight pounds?
‘Have you had enema yet?’ Svetlana asked.
Annie put her lips to her juice straw and avoided eye contact.
‘Annah,’ Svetlana’s tone was stern, ‘you cannot come for the programme and not have the enemas. This is the most important part. Everyone is nervous the first time. But after one, is easy.’
‘But—’
‘No but. The people here are so professional and so caring. You will find it relaxing: the water draining in, the toxins draining out.’
‘But—’
‘Shhh!’ Svetlana shook her head. ‘Is no problem. I promise you.’
‘I can’t! I just can’t do it,’ Annie blurted out.
‘They help you to put everything in place, then they leave you to relax for about forty minutes.’
‘Forty minutes!’
It sounded worse than she’d imagined.
‘Some litres of coffee need to go up. It takes
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