WraithBerenger hovers on the edge of the hard mattress, but makes no dent in it. 'I was, like, cursed,' she says. 'Oh, come on,' I scoff. 'I saw how much you suffered. Trunks of couture gowns and Concorde everywhere and Spanish playboys following you in packs.' 'You don't understand.' She raises her arm and scrutinises it, as if she were seeing it for the first time. It looks like a jagged arrangement of chicken bones wrapped in translucent egg noodle. And