Читать книгу Diamonds are for Deception: The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds - Julia James - Страница 10

‘I TAKE it that, like me, you’d prefer a traditional church wedding to the register office?’ Simon’s voice broke into her thoughts.

‘Yes, I would,’ she agreed unhesitatingly.

‘Good.’ Putting their empty plates on the tray, he went on, ‘It shouldn’t take long to get everything organised. We’ll need a special licence. But my godfather, as well as being an old friend of the family, happens to be an archbishop, which ought to facilitate matters. If I talk to him as soon as we get back, we should be able to get married in a few days’ time.’

‘A few days!’ She was staggered. ‘Oh, but I—’

‘Grandfather doesn’t have much longer, and I’d like him to live to see us married.’

‘But there’s the shop and—’

‘Couldn’t you ask your assistant—Margaret, did you say her name was—to take care of things for the moment?’

‘I suppose so, but—’

‘Then surely there’s no problem? With regard to your flat you can just leave everything where it is until the wedding’s over. Then, when you’ve moved your personal possessions, give your landlord notice and return the keys.’

‘I don’t think I’ll need to do that. I’m sure Sojo will want to stay on,’ she said.

‘Sojo?’

‘Sojo Macfadyen. My flatmate.’

Looking momentarily startled, he said, ‘I didn’t know you had a flatmate.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Male or female?’

‘Female, of course.’

He grinned briefly. ‘It’s hard to tell with a name like Sojo.’

‘Her name’s Sojourner. Though she’s liable to get violent if anyone calls her that.’

‘How long has she been with you?’

‘Almost two years.’

‘What does she do?’

‘She works for a travel company.’

‘I see. Presumably you get along well?’

‘Very well.’

‘In that case, despite the short notice, perhaps she’ll be your bridesmaid?’ he suggested.

Recalling Sojo’s words, Charlotte was about to say, I’m sure she will, when, bearing in mind the traditions accompanying weddings, she suggested, ‘Shouldn’t we ask your sister first?’

Brusquely, he said, ‘Earlier this year Lucy was badly injured in a car crash. Part of her spine was crushed. Since then she’s been bedridden and in considerable pain.’

Charlotte was shocked. ‘I—I’m so sorry. How dreadful for you all.’ Even as she spoke she was aware of how inadequate the words were.

As he saw her stricken face, his own face softened. ‘It’s been a trying time, particularly for Grandfather, who’s always been very fond of her. He was extremely upset when the hospital warned us she might never walk again. However, Lucy’s got plenty of courage, and she’s a fighter. Now, after a couple of operations, she’s back home and starting to make some positive progress. But to return to the question of a bridesmaid…’

‘I’m sure Sojo will be thrilled to bits,’ Charlotte assured him. ‘As luck will have it, she’ll have no problem getting time off work. When I get back to the flat I’ll—’

‘When were you thinking of going back?’ he questioned sharply.

‘Later today.’

‘Not a chance,’ he told her decidedly. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’re well and truly married.’

She felt a little thrill of excitement at this show of male possessiveness.

Still, common sense insisted that she should make a stand. Shaking her head, she said, ‘I’ll need to go back to get some clothes, and I must—’

‘I’ve a better idea. As Miss Macfadyen has some time off work, when we get home we’ll ring her up and invite her to stay with us. If you ask her to bring whatever clothes you need to tide you over, I’ll send a car for her.’

The thought of inviting Sojo to Farringdon Hall was a welcome one, but there were other considerations. ‘I have to talk to Margaret about the shop…’

He leaned forward to brush his lips down the side of her neck, making her shiver with delight. ‘My heart’s darling, couldn’t you do that by phone?’

Seduced by the caress and the endearment, she admitted, ‘I suppose I could.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he said jubilantly, and planted a series of soft baby kisses along her jawline, before his mouth covered hers.

Gladly she abandoned herself to his kiss. Simon loved her. He didn’t want to be parted from her for even a short time. If she had harboured any faint doubts as to his feelings, that fact alone should have been reassuring.

Having kissed her into a state of mindless bliss, he queried, ‘Then everything’s settled?’

She nodded.

‘And you’re happy?’

‘Yes.’ The sober answer reflected hardly anything of the joy that filled her and made her cup of happiness overflow.

Touching her cheek with a single finger, he said, ‘Though I’m very tempted to stay and make love to you all morning, I’d better fetch my coat and get moving. Otherwise Grandfather will be wondering what’s happened to us.’

‘Is there any chance of getting the car started?’ she asked when he returned almost immediately, shrugging into his coat.

‘A faint one, possibly, but if I have no joy I’ll start walking back.’

‘If you wait until I’m dressed I’ll come with you.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s a long way, and, though the weather looks to be reasonable this morning. it’s bound to be bad underfoot.’

Remembering the previous night, and how difficult even a comparatively short distance had seemed in high heels, she gave in gracefully.

‘While I’m gone, you can get a shower of sorts, and there are plenty of books.’

‘I’ll find something to do.’ She looked at the tray and the rumpled bed.

Following her glance, he said, ‘Don’t worry about the dishes or the bed; I’ll get one of the servants to come in and set the place to rights.’

He tossed another couple of logs on the fire, and a moment later the door closed behind him.

Struggling against the sense of loss his departure caused, she went along to the bathroom and, discarding the shirt, stepped into the bath, pulled the plastic curtain into place and turned on the shower unit.

The water was a comfortable temperature and the shower gel fresh and tangy, but instead of enjoying it she found herself thinking of Simon, wishing he had kissed her again before he’d left.

Perhaps he didn’t really love her?

Her father had always kissed her mother before he went out, even if he was only going to the local shop to buy a paper.

But she was just being silly, she scolded herself. Simon did love her. He’d said so.

All at once, in spite of the hot water, she went cold inside. He hadn’t actually said he loved her. He had said his heart stood still, that she was exquisite, that he wanted her, but he had never mentioned the word love.

Though why would he be rushing her into marriage if he didn’t love her? If it was only because of the risk of her being pregnant, it would have done no harm to wait and see, before he proposed.

Perhaps, when the chance arose, she would ask him exactly how he felt about her.

No, she would do nothing of the kind. The last thing she wanted was to become one of those insecure women who needed so much reassurance that they became pathetic, a burden to the man in their life.

After all, he hadn’t asked if she loved him. So either he took it for granted, or he didn’t care.

Neither was ideal, she thought as she towelled herself dry. But though she didn’t want her feelings taken for granted, it had to be better than him simply not caring.

After the steamy heat of the shower the air struck chill, and, shivering a little, she reluctantly donned yesterday’s undies, skirt and top and, her jacket over her arm, returned to the warmth of the fire.

She had combed the tangles out of her hair and was just knotting it loosely in the nape of her neck, when the door opened and Simon walked in.

Her spirits rising with a bound, she queried hopefully, ‘How did you get on?’

‘Started first time. I’ve left it just across the bridge with the engine running, so if you’re about ready to go…?’

‘All ready.’ She pulled on her jacket, slid her feet into shoes that felt a little stiff, picked up her bag and followed him outside.

It was a fine, bright morning with not a breath of wind. Sun glinted through the trees, turning a million droplets of water into diamonds and making the saturated ground steam slightly.

When he’d locked the door behind them, they made their way out of the small garden and over the old humpbacked bridge.

A noisy brown torrent was surging through the single arch, carrying branches and loose boulders that battered at the stone foundations. The force seemed to make the whole structure shake, and she was glad to reach the other side.

As Simon helped her into the car she glanced back at Owl Cottage. So much had happened there, it would always be special to her. Though if it hadn’t been for the storm, the cottage wouldn’t have come into the equation, and events would almost certainly have moved at a much slower pace.

But would she have wanted them to?

Before she could answer the question, following the direction of her gaze, Simon asked, ‘No regrets?’

After a moment she replied steadily, ‘No regrets,’ and knew it was the truth.

The road through the woods was littered with storm debris and several times he had to stop the car and get out to move the bigger branches. On one occasion they were forced to leave the track altogether to find a way around a fallen tree. Once they had left the woods, however, and were into smoothly rolling parkland, they made much better time.

When they reached Farringdon Hall, Mrs Reynolds came hurrying to meet them. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said to Simon. ‘Sir Nigel’s been anxious since he asked for you and discovered you weren’t back.’

‘Thanks, Ann. Perhaps you’ll let him know we’re home safely and we’ll be in to see him as soon as we’ve changed.’

A little while later when Charlotte emerged from her room dressed in fresh undies, her oatmeal trousers and mulberry-coloured sweater, Simon was waiting.

After an appreciative glance at her slim trimness, he queried, ‘All set? Then we’ll go and tell Grandfather the good news, shall we?’

She went reluctantly. Though Simon seemed to think his grandfather would be pleased, she seriously doubted it. Why should Sir Nigel welcome a working-class girl into his aristocratic family?

And the whole thing had happened far too quickly. He would probably think that in so short a time she couldn’t possibly have come to love his grandson. He might even think that she was just after his money…

Glancing at her face as they made their way along the corridor to the old man’s room, Simon asked, ‘Feeling nervous?’

‘Scared stiff,’ she admitted.

‘You’ve no need to be,’ he reassured her.

‘But suppose he doesn’t accept me?’

‘He will,’ Simon said with certainty. ‘He took you to his heart the moment he saw you.’

As they reached the sickroom door it was opened by the nurse, who sighed with relief. ‘Thank the good lord you’re back. Sir Nigel’s been on edge since breakfast time waiting for you—’

‘Simon, my boy,’ her patient’s voice cut across the discreet whisper, ‘is everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Not too long, now,’ the nurse cautioned, and slipped quietly away.

‘We had some trouble with the car,’ Simon explained, ‘and because of the weather conditions we decided to stay the night at Owl Cottage.’

‘Very sensible,’ Sir Nigel approved.

Taking Charlotte’s hand, Simon drew her to the bed. ‘We have some good news, haven’t we, darling?’

Looking even more gaunt and fragile, the old man was sitting propped up by pillows. His dark eyes moving from face to face, he waited.

‘We’re going to be married.’

Any worries Charlotte might have entertained about Sir Nigel’s reception of the news were instantly set at rest. His approval was evident.

Eyes alight with joy, he said, ‘Following the family tradition, eh? I can’t tell you how delighted I am… Charlotte, my dear…’ He held out both hands, long, thin, almost transparent hands, blotched with liver spots.

She took them gently in her strong young hands, and bent to kiss his cheek. His parchment-like skin smelled faintly of eau-de-Cologne.

Shaking hands with his grandson, he queried with undisguised eagerness, ‘How soon?’

‘As soon as possible,’ Simon assured him. ‘We would both prefer a church wedding, so I’m going to give Matthew a ring and see about an Archbishop’s Licence. Hopefully, we can arrange things for Wednesday or Thursday.’

‘You’ll be married at St Peter’s?’

‘I’d like to, though I haven’t yet had time to discuss this with my bride-to-be.’

Turning to Charlotte, he went on, ‘Our family have been tying the knot at the village church for generations. Grandfather was married there, so were my parents.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ she agreed.

Obviously relieved, the old man asked, ‘What about bridesmaids and a best man?’

‘Charlotte is going to ask her friend and flatmate, Miss Macfadyen, to be her bridesmaid, and, as neither of us have got a brother to act as best man, I thought I might ask—’

Sir Nigel looked up, his jaw tight. ‘Not—’

‘No, no…’ Simon said quickly. ‘I was thinking of Matthew’s son, James.’

‘Good choice,’ Sir Nigel approved.

‘If he can get the time off work, of course.’

‘What about Miss Macfadyen? Presumably she works?’

‘Yes, but as luck will have it, she has some holiday due, so I’ve suggested that we invite her down for a few days,’ Simon said.

‘An excellent idea!’

‘Now all we need is someone to give the bride away. It’s a great pity you’re not well enough.’

‘Who says I’m not? I’ll be only too happy to give Charlotte away if she has no objection, and doesn’t mind a wheelchair at her wedding.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ she told Sir Nigel truthfully. ‘So long as it won’t be too tiring for you.’

‘My dear, this news has given me a new lease of life, so I may as well use it to do something that will ensure me an enormous amount of pleasure.’

‘In that case it’s settled,’ Simon said.

Sir Nigel looked as pleased as Punch. ‘You’re having a honeymoon, of course?’

‘Eventually.’ Simon’s manner was deliberately casual. ‘But we’re in no hurry.’

‘Every new bride and groom should have a honeymoon. It’s part of the tradition.’

‘In the circumstances—’ Simon began.

‘I don’t want you to stay at home because of me,’ Sir Nigel broke in. ‘Couldn’t you have a short honeymoon now and a longer one when I’ve gone?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ the old man said firmly.

‘Then we’ll fly to Paris or Rome for two or three nights. But obviously, before I can book anything, I’ll need to get the wedding arrangements in place. So if I go and phone Matthew now…’

Taking Charlotte’s hand, the old man asked, ‘Would you be kind enough to keep me company for a little while? I’d like to talk to you.’

A warning note in his voice, Simon queried, ‘Are you sure that’s wise at the moment?’

The two men exchanged glances.

‘Maybe I am being impatient,’ Sir Nigel agreed with a sigh.

‘You’re looking very tired,’ Simon pointed out gently, ‘and there’s no point in knocking yourself up before the wedding.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. God willing, there’ll be time for Charlotte and I to get to know one another after the pair of you are married. Now, give my warmest regards to Matthew, and do invite Miss Macfadyen to stay at the Hall…’

The nurse, who had just returned, said with frosty disapproval, ‘I really must insist, Sir Nigel, that you get some rest now.’

He raised his eyes to heaven, before agreeing with suspicious meekness. ‘Very well, Nurse.’

Releasing Charlotte’s hand, he told her, ‘You’ve made me very happy, my dear.’

Then to Simon, ‘Perhaps you’ll come up later and let me know how things are going?’

‘I’ll be up after lunch,’ Simon promised.

As they descended the stairs, reaction setting in, Charlotte said shakily, ‘He was so pleased. I thought at the very least he would be upset by the suddenness, the speed… After all, we’ve only known each other two days.’

‘Falling in love at first sight seems to run in the Farringdon family,’ Simon remarked.

So he did love her…

Her heart singing, she asked, ‘Is that what your grandfather meant when he talked about following the family tradition?’

‘Yes. My great-grandparents were married within a few weeks of getting to know each other—though Sophia, my great-grandmother, was Italian and spoke very little English—and Grandfather asked Grandmother to marry him less than six hours after meeting her.’

‘What about your parents?’

‘My father proposed to my mother three days after they met. He had to propose twice more before she accepted him, but the circumstances were different. She was a young widow and still in mourning for her husband, who had been killed by a terrorist bomb. Though my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ marriages were long ones, and my parents’ marriage tragically short, they were all very happy.’

It seemed a good omen, and, her gladness overflowing, Charlotte slipped her hand into his.

Just for an instant, as if his mind was elsewhere, he failed to respond, then his fingers closed around hers and gave them a squeeze.

When they reached the sunny living-room, he suggested, ‘If you give me the phone number of your flat, I’ll have a quick word with Miss Macfadyen. Then you can fill her in on all the details while I talk to Matthew.’

She told him the number, and he tapped it in.

On the second ring the receiver was lifted and Sojo’s voice said laconically, ‘Hello?’

‘Miss Macfadyen, this is Simon Farringdon…’

‘Simon Farringdon…’ she echoed. Then sharply, ‘Is there something wrong? Where’s Charlotte?’

‘There’s nothing wrong; in fact everything’s fine, and Charlotte is here with me now. She tells me that you’re on holiday, so I’m ringing to invite you down to Farringdon Hall for a few days.’

‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Sojo demanded.

With a rueful glance at his companion, Simon denied, ‘Not at all. Charlotte and I would very much like your company.’

After a pause, Sojo said cautiously, ‘Well, if you really mean it, I suppose I could get a train down. When do you want me to come?’

‘If you have no plans for this afternoon?’

‘No.’

‘Then I’ll send a car for you. Say three o’clock… Now Charlotte has something to ask you, so I’ll leave her to explain.’

He handed over the receiver and went into the library, which also served as his office-cum-study.

Doing her utmost to curb her excitement, Charlotte said, ‘Sojo?’

‘What’s going on? Why do you want me to come down?’

‘Nothing’s going on, but quite a lot’s happened.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like Simon and I are going to be married.’

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, then Sojo laughed. ‘You’re kidding, of course.’

‘I’ve never been more serious.’

‘Honestly?’ Her voice squeaked a little.

‘Honestly.’

‘That ghost must have been quite something.’

‘It had less to do with the ghost than being stranded overnight.’

‘Stranded overnight! Hang on a minute… OK, now I’m sitting comfortably, so tell me everything before I die of curiosity.’

As succinctly as possible, Charlotte explained about the storm and the car breaking down. ‘But luckily we were close to one of the estate cottages, so Simon suggested that we spend the night there.’

‘Ooh, the devil! Were you alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Share a bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘No regrets?’

‘None. Even before he proposed.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Sojo said slowly.

‘But?’

‘I can’t help but worry in case this is just on the rebound from Wudolf. Because if it is—’

‘It isn’t,’ Charlotte broke in decisively. ‘As you yourself said, Rudy’s very Byronic, and I was on the verge of being infatuated, but that’s all…’

‘So it won’t rock the boat if I let on that he rang this morning wanting to speak to you?’ Sojo revealed.

‘No, it won’t. What did you tell him?’

‘That you were away for the weekend, but just in case he had the nerve to ring Farringdon Hall, I didn’t say where.’

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I hope I did the right thing?’ her flatmate asked.

‘Yes. I wouldn’t have wanted him to ring here.’

‘Knowing how painfully honest you are, I suppose you’ll want to put him in the picture. What will you do? Ring him up, or write to him?’

‘I can’t do either,’ Charlotte said. ‘I don’t know his home address or his phone number, or where to contact him in New York.’

‘Well, if he hasn’t got fed up and stopped ringing before I get back, I’ll be pleased to tell him that you’re going to marry someone far nicer. Incidentally, I’d love to see his face,’ Sojo said naughtily.

‘I hope he won’t be hurt,’ Charlotte remarked a shade anxiously.

‘Don’t start feeling guilty. The only thing likely to be hurt is his pride. I know his sort. That’s why I’m glad you’re not still hankering after him… You aren’t, are you?’

‘No, not in the slightest. In retrospect I can see that I wasn’t in love with him. I’m not sure I even liked him.’

‘What about Simon? Are you in love with him? Or is that a question I shouldn’t ask?’

‘Ask it by all means. The answer is madly. I was lost the moment I saw him. A coup de foudre.’

‘And it was mutual, I take it?’

‘Yes.

Sojo sighed. ‘How romantic. But to get to the nitty-gritty, does Sir Nigel know?’

‘Yes, we told him almost as soon as we got back.’

‘What did he say?’

‘For some reason he seems to have taken a fancy to me, and he was genuinely pleased. He’s going to give me away.’

‘I thought he was very ill,’ Sojo commented.

‘He is. That’s why Simon would like us to get married as soon as possible. He’s going to apply for a special licence so we can arrange the wedding for Wednesday or Thursday.’

‘You don’t mean this Wednesday or Thursday?’ Sojo asked faintly.

‘Yes…’

‘Well, he certainly doesn’t waste any time.’

‘And I’d like you to be my bridesmaid.’

‘I was only joking, you know,’ Sojo protested laughingly.

‘I’m not.’

‘What does Simon think of the idea?’

‘He suggested it.’

‘Then I’d love to! I’ll dig out my best frock.’

‘Speaking of frocks, I’d be grateful if you could pack my clothes and shoes et cetera and bring them down with you.’

‘All of them?’

‘I suppose so. I won’t be coming back.’

‘Of course you won’t.’ Just for a moment she sounded lost. ‘I’m afraid it hasn’t sunk in yet. Do you mind if I keep the flat on? It’s become home.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. I was hoping you would.’

‘What about the shop?’

‘I’m going to ask Margaret if she’ll manage it, at least for the time being,’ Charlotte said.

‘She once told me she felt far too young to retire, so it’s my bet she would be happy to manage it on a permanent basis. I don’t suppose you’re planning to work after you’re married?’

‘I haven’t even thought that far ahead. But I can’t imagine Simon would want me to.’

‘Aah…’

‘What do you mean, aah…?’

‘You used to be so cool and self-sufficient. Now, I’m delighted to say, your voice goes all soppy every time you say Simon.’

‘It does no such thing,’ Charlotte protested.

Taking the denial for what it was worth, Sojo added, ‘I can’t wait to meet the man who’s had such a devastating effect on you, so I’ll grab a sandwich and get cracking with the packing. See ya!’

The line went dead.

Smiling to herself, Charlotte pressed end call and tapped in Margaret’s number.

When the older woman had heard the news, after a flurry of oohs and aahs and excited congratulations, she expressed her willingness to manage the shop for as long as Charlotte wanted her to.

‘It’s all happened so quickly,’ she added, ‘I can hardly believe it.’

Charlotte felt very much the same.

‘Fancy being swept off your feet like that!’ She sighed gustily. ‘Isn’t it wonderfully romantic? I hope you’ll both live happily ever after, just like they do in fairy tales…’

But were fairy tales bound to have happy endings? Charlotte wondered as she replaced the receiver.

Not necessarily. She recalled a poetic version of Spellbound that ended, ‘glass coffin, no prince.’

Despite the warmth of the room, a sudden cold chill, a premonition, drained the colour from her face and made a shiver run through her.

‘Is there a problem?’ Simon’s voice asked.

Feeling silly, she said, ‘No… No, everything’s fine. Sojo seems highly delighted, and Margaret is quite willing to manage the shop for as long as I want her to.’

‘Then why are you looking so upset?’

She managed a smile. ‘I’m not.’

Plainly dissatisfied, he was about to probe further when there was a tap at the door and Mrs Reynolds appeared, to say, ‘Lunch is ready when you are. It being Sunday, I’ve asked Milly to set it in the dining-room. I hope that’s all right?’

‘Yes, fine. Thank you, Ann.’

A hand at Charlotte’s waist, he ushered her through to the panelled dining-room, where a table that would have held a dozen or more was set for two.

‘So what’s wrong?’ he pursued, when they were seated and the soup had been served.

‘Nothing’s wrong, really.’

Seeing a frown draw his well-marked brows together, she added awkwardly, ‘It was just that Margaret said she hoped we would both live happily ever after, ‘‘like they do in fairy tales’’. I was just wondering if fairy tales always ended happily, when a goose walked over my grave…’

He looked oddly relieved.

Eager to change the subject, she asked, ‘How did you get on?’

‘I had a word with both Matthew and James. They were pleased to hear the news. James is quite willing to be best man, and Matthew said he could see no reason why, if the vicar of our chosen church was agreeable, we shouldn’t start planning the wedding for Wednesday. Unfortunately he’s away at a conference and won’t be able to attend, but, bearing in mind Grandfather’s state of health, he agreed that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible. As luck would have it, I was able to catch the Reverend David Moss, the vicar of St Peter’s, between his morning service and lunch. He had nothing scheduled for Wednesday, so I’ve arranged for an eleven o’clock wedding, if that’s all right by you?’

‘Fine.’

‘Then that’s the most important thing settled,’ he said with satisfaction.

An odd little shiver ran though her, leaving her shaken and uncertain. She wanted to marry Simon, wanted to be his wife, so why, instead of feeling joyful and happy, did she feel uneasy, as if some sixth sense was warning that all was not well?

‘Which leaves just a few odd ends to tie in,’ he went on. ‘The most important of which is a decision on where you’d like to spend your first honeymoon. I suggested Paris or Rome as being reasonably close—we can always go further afield at a later date—but if there’s anywhere else you prefer… Amsterdam? Venice? Vienna?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m quite happy with either Paris or Rome.’

‘It’s for you to choose.’

‘Then Rome. Along with some student friends I spent a weekend in Paris, which I loved, but I’ve never been to Rome.’

‘Rather than staying in the city itself, which can be extremely noisy, I suggest that we find somewhere in the hills just outside Rome. There are some delightful little villages…’

While they discussed the various options, she made a determined effort to dismiss the feeling of uneasiness. But a faint niggle persisted until lunch was over.

As they left the dining-room, he asked, ‘Are you planning to let your mother and stepfather know about the wedding?’

‘I’m afraid I hadn’t thought about it,’ she admitted. ‘Though I will, of course.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to phone them now?’

Well aware that the suddenness would come as a shock to her conservative mother, Charlotte hesitated. Then realising they had to know, and it would be as well to get it over with, she said, ‘If you don’t mind?’

‘Of course not. By the way, what’s your mother’s name now she’s remarried?’

‘Harris. Joan Harris. Her husband’s called Steve.’

Simon glanced at his watch. ‘Do they stay up late?’

‘I don’t really know.’

‘Well, it will be getting on for midnight in Sydney. Do you want to see if you can catch them?’

‘Please.’