to dress her up for the wedding and take a photo and send it. Even if we can’t be there today, know that we’re thinking of you.’
‘I know.’
‘And I’m not your sister, but I do think of you as one.’
‘Thank you,’ Estelle said, her eyes welling up. ‘I think of you as a sister too.’
They weren’t idle words; many hours had been spent in hospital waiting rooms this past year.
‘Is that the door?’ Amanda asked.
‘Yes. Don’t worry, someone else will get it.’
‘Do you have a butler?’
‘No!’ Estelle laughed, swallowing down her tears. ‘Just Raúl’s housekeeper. Though it’s going to start to get busy soon, with the hairdresser…’ She turned around as she heard her name being called, and Estelle’s jaw dropped as she saw her brother coming through the door.
‘Andrew!’
‘Is that where he’s got to?’ Amanda laughed, and then she was serious. ‘I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be with you today—I’d have given anything. But with Cecelia…’
‘Thank you,’ Estelle said, and promptly burst into tears, all her pent-up nerves released.
‘I think she’s pleased to see me,’ Andrew said, taking the phone and chatting to Amanda briefly before hanging up.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Estelle admitted.
‘Raúl said he thought you might need someone today, and of course I wanted to give you away. If anything happens with Cecelia he’s assured me I’ll be able to get straight back.’
She couldn’t believe that Raúl would do this for her. Until now she hadn’t fully realised how terrifying today was, how real it felt.
Raúl had.
‘When did you get in?’
‘Last night,’ Andrew said. ‘We went to Sol’s.’
‘You were out with Raúl?’
‘He certainly knows how to party.’ Andrew smiled. ‘I’d forgotten how.’
Even if she was doing all this for her brother and his wife, of the many benefits of marrying Raúl, this was one Estelle had not even considered—that her brother, who was still having trouble accepting the diagnosis that he would never walk again, who had, apart from job interviews and hospital appointments, become almost reclusive, would fly not just to Spain but so far out of his comfort zone.
It was a huge and important step, and it was thanks to Raúl that he was here.
‘I’ve got something for you.’
Estelle bit her lip, hoping they hadn’t spent money they didn’t have on a gift for a wedding that wasn’t real.
‘Remember these?’ Andrew said as she opened the box. ‘These’ were small diamond studs that had belonged to her mother. ‘Dad bought them for her for their wedding day.’
She had never felt more of a fraud.
‘Enough tears,’ Andrew said. ‘Let’s get this wedding underway.’
* * *
Raúl was rarely nervous, but as he stood at the altar and waited for Estelle, to his own surprise, he was.
His father had almost bought their story, and Raul’s future with the company was secure, but instead of a gloating satisfaction that his plans were falling into place today he thought only of the reasons he had had to go to these lengths.
His head turned briefly and he caught a glimpse of Angela in the middle of the church. She was seated with his father, as ever-present PA. His mother’s family were still unaware of the real role she played in his father’s life—and the role she had played in his mother’s death.
He stared ahead, anger churning in his gut that Angela had the gall to be here. He wouldn’t put it past her to bring her bastard son.
Then he heard the murmur of the congregation and Raúl turned around. The churning faded. Just one thought was now in his mind.
She looked beautiful.
He had wondered how Estelle might look—had worried that, left to her own devices, a powder-puff ball would be wobbling towards him on glittery platform shoes, smiling from ruby-red lips.
He had not—could not have—imagined this.
Her dress was cream and made of intricate Spanish lace. It was fitted, and showing her curves, but in the most elegant of ways. The neckline was a simple halter neck. She carried orange blossom, as was the tradition for Spanish brides, and her lipstick was a pale coral.
‘Te ves bella.’ He told her that she looked beautiful as she joined him, and he meant every word. Not one thing would he change, from her black hair, piled high up on her head, to the simple diamond earrings and elegant cream shoes. She was visibly shaking, and he made a small joke to relax her. ‘Your sewing is terrible.’
She glanced at his shirt and they shared a smile. With so little history, still they found a piece now, at the altar—as per tradition, the bride-to-be must embroider her groom’s shirt.
‘I’m not marrying a billionaire to sit sewing!’ she had said teasingly, and Raúl had laughed, explaining that most women did not embroider all of the front of the shirt these days. Only a small area would be left for her, and Estelle could put on it whatever she wanted.
He had half expected a € but had frowned this morning when he had put on his shirt to find a small pineapple. Raúl still couldn’t work out what it meant, but it was nice to see her relax and smile as the service started.
They knelt together, and as the service moved along he explained things in his low, deep voice, heard only by her.
‘El lazo,’ he said as a loop of satin decorated with orange blossom was placed over his shoulders and then another loop from the same piece was placed over hers. The priest spoke then for a moment, in broken English, and Estelle’s cheeks burnt red as he told them that the rope that bound them showed that they shared the responsibility for this marriage. It would remain for the rest of the ceremony.
But not for life.
She felt like a fraud. She was a fraud, Estelle thought, panic starting to build. But Raúl took her hand and she looked into his black eyes. He seemed to sense that she was suddenly struggling.
‘He asks now that you hand him the Arras,’ Raúl said and she handed over the small purse he had given her on arrival. It contained thirteen coins, he had explained, and it showed his financial commitment to her.
It was the only honest part of the service, Estelle thought as the priest blessed them and handed it back to her.
Except it felt real.
‘It’s
