I knew that my outfit was risky, the plunging black bra exposing large breasts and cleavage. White sheer dress with black embroidery. The patterned hat, sharp, long painted fingernails and matching blood red lipstick may have looked good in a lounge bar but my fiance's grandmother was not impressed. Her husband was though. He couldn't keep his eyes off my chest and received a withering glance from his wife and got told to make the drinks in another room.

I never guessed that Bob's family were so rich. The white remote gates gave it away. I imagined they would live in a trailer like mine. He always looked scruffy, hardly showered and swore every other word.

I decided we had to marry. Always refused him before.