Free The Jenny Wilson Show (featuring Henry VIII and his six wives) by Louise Birkett

Chapter One
    “OK Alice, get ready to go,” said the voice in my ear.
    “It’s not Alice, it’s Jenny,” said the other voice in my ear.
    The production assistant started counting backwards from ten, I arranged my face into what I hoped was a good smile rather than an inane grin.
    “It might be The Jenny Wilson Show,” said the producer Ruth, alias voice number one, “but the presenter’s real name is Alice.”
    “Well, I just think that’s confusing, I don’t remember that kind of thing happening before,” said the first voice, alias director Julian.
    “That’s because they were known by their real or stage names,” Ruth pointed out, “and their shows were named after them. Besides, this was your decision.”
    “Cue Alice,” said the production assistant.
    “Hello and welcome to The Jenny Wilson Show, PL-TV’s first chat show.” I beamed towards the audience. They’d taken longer than we had anticipated to get settled. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; some of them had egos the size of stadia. The guests had the potential to be worse. Hence Julian and Ruth debating strenuously in my ear: one of the reasons anyway.
    “I still say it’s confusing.”
    “It was you who wanted to call it The Jenny Wilson Show,” snapped Ruth.
    “Well, the Alice Frobisher Show doesn’t sound right,” said Julian. “Why didn’t we find a Jenny Wilson to front it?”
    “Today the question we’re asking is whether a five-times married man is a good bet for the future,” my beam was becoming fixed. If I could have gagged them...
    “We found eight Jenny Wilsons to front it,” fumed Ruth, “but you didn’t like any of them. The only one you liked was Alice. So you made her use the name or were you thinking she’d change her name?”
    It was true. I think having a show where the presenter’s first name began with a J was some sort of homage to Jeremy and Jerry. Or maybe it was just because Julian liked names that began with a J. In any event, he’d thrown enough hissy fits on the subject to convince everyone to go along with him.
    “Especially,” I continued, “when some of his previous wives have met what we might call dubious ends. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together and welcome Katherine Parr and get ready to help her answer the biggest dilemma of her life.”
    The audience dutifully applauded. The voices in my ear had gone silent, I glanced towards the control room. I could see Julian and Ruth standing and waving their arms at each other. Clearly they were still arguing so I could expect little help there. Why the sound wasn’t coming through my earpiece was a mystery but most things about PL-TV were a mystery to me. I hadn’t been involved in TV before I became what you might call life-challenged.
    It was odd. While full-scale arguments complete with anger, bitterness and a swathe of negative emotions had pocketed my earlier life, here it hadn’t – so far. But, before I could complete the thought, the sliding doors had opened and Katherine Parr was walking towards me, wearing a long red dress with panels of gold and a jaunty little cap with a feather in it. My first thought was how tall she was: impossible to tell whether she was wearing heels under her long skirts. My second impression, as I shook her hand was how kind her eyes were. Perhaps we could somehow wing it without the director’s or producer’s help.
    “So Katherine,” I said, when she’d seated herself. “You’re here today to talk to PL-TV’s viewers about the biggest dilemma of your life.”
    “That’s right, Jenny,” she said. “The most powerful man in the realm has asked me to marry him but I’m in love with another younger, more vigorous man and he’s already had five wives. The one who’s asked me to marry him, that is. Not the one who I’m in love with who is his brother-in-law.”
    Some in the audience gave loud gasps, getting into the spirit of the thing, as it were.
    “So, tell me a bit