night reminiscing about their holidays at the villa.
The next morning Portia flew in from the States and hugged her half to death. ‘You finally hooked the bad boy?’ She shook her head, grinning from ear to ear as she exclaimed over the ring. ‘You would never settle for second best.’ Then she turned to Immi. ‘Have you fixed everything for tomorrow?’
Andie looked from one to the other. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘We decided that instead of a boring wedding present we’re going to take everyone to a spa for a pampering day.’
‘Oh...’
Portia grinned. ‘It’s not as if you’ll need a toaster. You’ve already got two of everything. Have you decided where you’ll live?’
She shook her head but Cleve’s flat was bigger. And filled with stuff chosen, used by Rachel...
‘It hardly matters,’ Immi cut in, pointedly. ‘You’ll be looking for a house, I imagine. Children need a garden.’
‘It’s all happened so fast,’ Andie said, helplessly.
Immi touched her arm, a gesture of reassurance, then swiftly reverted to the wedding details. ‘We’ve decided that we’re all going to wear Sofia’s dresses,’ she said, turning to Portia. ‘A kind of tribute to her. You need to choose one.’
‘Vintage?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Fabulous. What are you wearing, Andie?’
‘We haven’t decided,’ Immi said. ‘I’ve been looking for that dress Sofia wouldn’t let you wear. Do you remember? You sulked for hours.’
‘I never sulked!’ Portia rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, I sulked but it was a dream dress.’
‘Exactly.’
She sighed. ‘You’re right. It would be perfect.’
‘It’s not in any of the trunks we’ve found.’
‘When she rescued it from me she took it into her bedroom.’ Portia led the way, then turned at the doorway. ‘You’re not sleeping in here?’ she asked, surprised.
Andie shook her head. ‘It didn’t feel right.’ She saw Immi and Portia exchange a glance and quickly said, ‘All I found in Sofia’s wardrobe were day clothes.’
Portia crossed to a chest of drawers, sighing as she opened each one, lifting out a scarf, something in oyster satin that slithered through her fingers, lace... ‘Posy is going to make a fortune selling this stuff.’ Then, as she opened the bottom drawer she reached in and lifted out something wrapped in tissue paper.
‘Is that it?’ Immi asked.
Portia placed it on the bed, unfolded the tissue, removed satin lavender bags and then shook out an ethereal shimmer of a dress. The simplest long-sleeved shift created from sheer lace into which flowers had been worked and from which tiny beads glistened. At first sight it looked transparent, but beneath the lace there was a nude slip.
For a moment none of them said anything then Andie gathered herself. It was too much... Too bridal. Exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.
‘It will be too long,’ she objected. ‘There’s no way to shorten it.’
‘Let’s see.’
They had her out of her T-shirt and trousers before she could argue and dropped the dress over her head.
It slithered over her body and crumpled gently at her feet but before she could say a word Portia and Immi spoke as one.
‘High heels!’
They did a high five, then burst out laughing. ‘Come on. Let’s go shopping.’
* * *
Next morning they picked up Gloria and all four of them made their way to a hotel overlooking San Rocco that had a luxurious spa. By the time they’d ordered coffee and cake her mother, grandmother, Laura Finch and Posy had arrived.
There were a few tears, exclamations over the ring, an unexpectedly heartfelt hug from Laura, a whispered thank-you and then it was time for facials, massages. They had lunch. The afternoon was all about hair and nails, the bliss of pedicures followed by champagne in the hot tub for everyone but Andie and then afternoon tea.
But all the time, amidst the laughter, there was a little nagging voice that kept repeating Portia’s words.
‘You would never settle for second best...’
‘Andie...’
Portia caught her as they were leaving.
Her sister had been full of life all day but just once or twice she’d caught a look, as if Portia were somewhere else.
‘Are you okay, Portia?’
‘Fine,’ she said, too quickly. ‘A bit stressed. Work... I was wondering, are you and Cleve staying on here after tomorrow?’
She shook her head. ‘We’ve been here too long already. We’ll be home on Monday.’
‘Oh...’ She looked surprised, then grinned. ‘Honeymoon before the event...’ Then, ‘If I’m not going to be playing gooseberry I thought I’d ask Posy if I can stay on for a while. Decompress.’
* * *
By the time they arrived home Andie was desperate to be alone and, making the excuse that she was tired, went up to her room.
For a while there were the familiar sounds of her sisters squabbling over the bathroom, the murmurs and giggles as they picked over the day and then gradually everything grew quiet with only the now familiar sounds of the old house as it settled and cooled.
Silent but for a tap on her window.
The first time she heard it Andie thought it was a moth, tricked by the light of the moon shining on the glass. The second time it was accompanied by her name whispered softly.
‘Miranda...’
Only one person ever called her that.
‘Cleve?’ She scrambled out of bed and found him leaning on the windowsill. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Standing on a ladder, talking to the woman I’m going to marry tomorrow. It’s damned uncomfortable. Can I come in?’
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘A glass or two of wine. A brandy...’
‘How did you get here?’ she demanded. ‘You’d better not be driving.’
‘It’s a lovely night for a walk and I have something important to tell you.’
‘Idiot. Get down now, before you fall. No, wait. I’ll come and hold the ladder.’
She pulled on a wrap, held her breath on the landing half expecting
