all her doubts. ‘You do know that if you’re here after midnight you’ll turn into a pumpkin?’ she said, when he finally eased away so that they could breathe.
‘I won’t stay,’ he promised, ‘but on the subject of superstitions, I wanted you to know that I’ve sorted out the troublesome “something blue”. You’ll have it tomorrow.’
‘You walked all the way from San Rocco to tell me that?’
‘There isn’t a phone but I cannot tell a lie. I had a lift in Matt’s taxi. I only walked up from the village.’
She shook her head. ‘Come on, I’ll drive you back.’
‘The walk will clear my head.’
‘If you don’t put your foot in a rabbit hole and break your ankle,’ she said, pulling away in the direction of the garage.
‘Wait. It wasn’t just the something blue,’ he said. ‘There’s something else.’ Now he was serious and her heart, beating much too fast, seemed to stop. ‘While I was home I realised that everywhere I turned in my flat there was a reminder of Rachel—the colour of the walls, the sofa, pretty much everything in the kitchen. I want us to have a fresh start so I’ve put it on the market, fully furnished.’
His flat was so much bigger than hers, it was the obvious place to live but she’d been dreading it. She leaned against his chest and let him hold her while she gathered the breath to whisper, ‘Thank you.’
‘You might not be so happy when we’re squeezed into your little flat while we look for a house.’
‘We’ll manage.’
‘It’s nearly twelve. I’d better go.’ He kissed her again. ‘Until tomorrow.’
* * *
The next morning Immi produced boxes of tiny white solar lights and yards of heart-shaped bunting that she’d brought with her. While she and Posy threaded them through the garden, along the wall and over the terrace, Portia disappeared on some mysterious errand of her own.
Boxes of flowers arrived from a smart florist in San Rocco.
‘Immi!’
Imogen held up her hands. ‘Not me,’ she said. ‘All I did was pass on Cleve’s instructions.’
Andie took the lid off one of the boxes to reveal a circlet of white daisies with soft yellow centres and a bouquet made of the same flowers with a sprinkling of pale blue osteospermum.
In the other were buttonhole flowers. White daisies for everyone except the groom, whose buttonhole matched her bouquet.
‘African Daisies...’ She touched one of them lightly with a fingertip. ‘I was struggling to think of “something blue”,’ she said. But Cleve had come up with something very special.
‘I’m not surprised with the green in that kimono dress,’ Immi said. ‘I suppose with the osteospermum surrounded by the white and yellow you could have just about got away with this, but thankfully that’s no longer a problem. You do know it’s unlucky to get married in green?’
‘Is it?’ Andie shook her head. ‘I seem to have missed that one.’
‘Lucky you. Gran knows dozens of wedding superstitions and she’s shared every single one of them, bless her. She’s bringing her pearls for you to wear, by the way.’
‘That’s everything, then. Borrowed dress, new shoes, old pearls and blue daisies.’ She looked at Immi. ‘How are your wedding arrangements going?’
‘Endless. And you’ve just added the letting out of a bridesmaid’s dress to the list.’ Immi rolled her eyes. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d opted for running away.’
‘I don’t think that’s quite Stephen’s style.’
‘No. I think he’s making more fuss about this wedding than I am. He sends his apologies that he can’t be here, by the way. Things are hectic at the factory and we’ll both be taking time off after the wedding.’
She nodded. ‘You’re here, that’s all that matters.’
‘Are you okay, Andie?’
‘Fine,’ she said. She didn’t care about not having a lush wedding in a country house, but Cleve would be back at his desk on Monday and she would, presumably, be doing the rounds of the estate agents.
It didn’t matter. He’d thought about the flat, remembered that she loved daisies. He’d even found blue ones for her. And last night he’d climbed up to her window like a midnight lover...
‘That’s better,’ Immi said.
‘What?’
‘You’re smiling.’
‘Of course I’m smiling. It’s my wedding day. Come on, we’d better get these inside where it’s cool.’
Crates of champagne arrived and the caterers with the cold buffet packed into cold boxes and then, when it was time to go and get ready, she discovered what Portia had been up to.
Sofia’s suite had been transformed. The furniture gleamed, the bed had been made up with fine lace-edged sheets and pillowcases, the bed frame hung with gauzy drapes. There were candles tucked into tall glass holders in the bedroom and bathroom, and a luscious selection of toiletries arranged on the glass shelves.
‘Portia...’
‘The clock is ticking. Take a shower or a bath and then we’re going to turn you into a princess.’
Posy was on make-up, giving them all the benefit of her theatrical experience. Portia did something complicated with her hair, pinning it up, creating wisps of curls with curling tongs.
They all stepped into the vintage dresses they’d chosen, each a jewel colour and style that perfectly complemented their personalities.
The last thing they did was help her into her dress, dealing with tiny hooks, draping it so that it trailed a little behind, supporting her as she stepped into the highest heels she’d ever worn that just lifted the hem clear of the floor at the front.
Her grandmother arrived with her pearls, exclaiming at how beautiful all the girls looked in Sofia’s dresses before turning to Andie.
‘Sofia was wearing this dress the night she met Ludo,’ she said as she fastened the pearls around her neck. ‘She would be so happy that you’re wearing it today, my darling.’ She handed her the earrings and, once she’d fitted them to her ears, Immi placed the circlet of daisies on her head, pinned it in place, then handed her the bouquet.
There was a round of photograph taking and then Portia said, ‘Come on, girls, Dad wants a little father/daughter time with Andie before he surrenders her to Cleve.’
‘Is he here?’
‘He’s just arrived. Were you worried he might have overslept after his late-night outing?’ Portia shook her head.
‘Climbing
