Читать книгу Summer At Villa Rosa Collection - Kate Hardy, Jessica Gilmore - Страница 20
ОглавлениеIMMI HAD A LIST. The first item on it was ‘The Dress’.
‘What are you going to wear?’
Andie showed her the kimono. Immi sighed, shook her head. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking simple, elegant.’
‘If you were ten centimetres taller and model-girl thin, maybe. You are lovely, darling, but you are not Sofia. This is not a dress for a woman with any kind of a bust.’ She opened the trunk and began to lift out dresses. ‘Oh! Do you remember this?’ She held up a pleated dress in green ombre-dye chiffon. She held it against herself. ‘I swanned around in this one imagining I looked like Sophia Loren.’
‘Flat chest, mousy brown hair? I don’t think so!’ They burst out laughing, hugged one another, then turned back to the chest, remembering lovely days, the parties, shedding a tear for Sofia who, older, wiser, they knew must have been lonely in her pink villa by the sea. Who had died far too young.
‘She had a dress that would be perfect,’ Immi said. ‘It was very delicate and must have meant something to Sofia because she wouldn’t let Portia wear it.’
‘What did it look like?’
She shook her head. ‘Wait until you see it. In the meantime,’ she said, holding up a jewel-bright gown, ‘this is what I’ll be wearing.’ She looked around. ‘Sofia had fabulous costume jewellery to go with these clothes. She had an old safe under the stairs where she kept it.’
Andie opened the box beneath her mirror and held up the key. ‘If you are prepared to brave the spiders I think this might be the key.’
‘Oh, boy. This is going to be so much fun,’ she said. ‘Of course, I will need shoes. And underwear. Shopping tomorrow?’
‘Is it compulsory?’
‘Absolutely, but today we’ll lie back and soak up the sun.’
‘Shouldn’t we be organising food? Doing something practical?’
‘It’s all taken care of.’
‘How?’
‘You might be cut off up here but the rest of the island is hooked up to the phone system and the World Wide Web. Dad gave me carte blanche with his credit card along with a few pointed comments about how thoughtful daughters ran away to get married.’
‘He didn’t mean it. He’ll burst with pride when he walks you down the aisle.’
‘I know. Come on, let’s go down to the beach.’
They swam, lazed in the hot pool, went down to the village for supper and sat well into the 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 one of her sisters to appear, then crept downstairs. Cleve was waiting on the doorstep but before she could berate him he’d caught her around the waist and was kissing her senseless.
He tasted of old brandy, delicious, warming, melting 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 up to your window in the middle of the night.’ Immi sighed. ‘How romantic is that?’
Posy giggled. ‘Oh, bless, she’s blushing.’
They left, all of them giggling like schoolgirls. So much for being discreet!
A moment later there was a tap on the door and her father put his head around it. ‘I’m told it’s safe to come in.’
‘I warn you, if you say something nice I’m going to cry all over you.’
‘Your mother warned me. I came prepared,’ he said, taking a mini pack of tissues from his pocket.
She laughed. ‘They’ve got hearts on them.’
‘Immi ordered a box of them for her own wedding.’ He took her hands. ‘You look beautiful, my dear. Cleve’s a lucky man.’
‘We’re both lucky,’ she said.
‘Yes. I’m afraid I badly misjudged him.’
‘Misjudged him?’ She frowned. ‘When?’
‘Oh, years ago. He had a bit of a reputation back then.’
‘A girl at every airfield?’
‘You knew?’
‘I was eighteen, Dad. Old enough to know that any man who looked like him would be beating girls off with a stick.’
‘There was that,’ he admitted, ‘but when he came to buy his first aircraft I was sure he’d be broke within a year.’
‘Cleve?’ She frowned. ‘No one works harder, is more respected in the business.’
‘Not then.’ He shrugged. ‘He was young and it was all a game.’
‘Not like you and Mum giving up all your dreams to save Marlowe Aviation.’
‘Maybe that influenced me. Envy... But I could see how taken you were with him and I knew he’d break your heart.’
‘Dad?’ She tightened her grip on his hands. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I did what I thought was right for you, Andie. What I still think was right.’
‘You warned him off?’ For a moment she couldn’t be sure which would be worse. Her father’s interference or Cleve’s capitulation. She let go of her father’s hands, took a step back. ‘What did you do?’
‘It’s not important. I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you finally found one another.’
‘I’m about to marry him, Dad. I’ve a right to know what it took to make him walk away the first time.’
‘He wouldn’t...’ He lifted a hand in a gesture of surrender. ‘Very well. Cleve had signed a contract to courier goods for a big electronics company, the bank had agreed to loan him the money for a Hornet.’
She knew all that. She’d been at uni then, but he’d always texted her to let her know when he’d be there so that they could snatch a few minutes. The last time they’d met he’d promised to let her know when he was going to pick up the Hornet and they would go out and celebrate the new contract that established Goldfinch as a serious contender in the business, and his new aircraft. A proper date with all that promised.
In the event there had been no text, no date and no more kisses.
She’d assumed that he’d met someone closer to hand. She’d wept on Immi’s shoulder, soaked her pillow for a week and then she’d got on with her life because what else was there to do?
Her mouth was dry but she had to know. ‘What happened, Dad?’
‘Two weeks before the delivery date the banks went into meltdown and they pulled the plug on hundreds of small companies.’
‘But...’
‘Without the Hornet Cleve wouldn’t be able to fulfil the contract. Staring ruin in the face, he came to see me. His parents were prepared to lend him some money to cover his working overdraft but he needed me to accept staged payments for the aircraft.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I offered him a deal on the understanding that he would stay away from you.’
‘Me or the Hornet?’
‘You were at university, Andie, doing well. I wanted you in the company, designing for me. I didn’t want him tempting you away, not just to his bed, but giving you a chance to fly.’
‘He took the deal.’
Of course he did. He might have had a tendresse for her but Goldfinch was his life.
‘I gave him an hour to decide and to give him his due he took every second of that hour but we both knew that he had no choice. He’d signed the contract on the bank’s word. If he was unable to deliver he would have gone under.’
‘Did you make him sign an agreement?’ she asked. ‘Or did you shake hands like gentlemen?’
‘Andie...’
‘Didn’t you call him on it when he broke his word and gave me a job?’
‘He was married by then. Settled.’ Her father walked to the open French doors and looked out over the bay. ‘I watched you sending off application after application, Andie. I saw a light go out of you when no one would even give you an interview.’
It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in.
‘Are you saying that you asked Cleve to give me a job?’ No, it was worse than that. There hadn’t been a job. There had been precious little for her to do for the first couple of months... ‘You didn’t just ask him to take me on, you paid him...’
She didn’t wait for his answer. She tore the circlet of daisies from her head and walked out through the open French doors.
She needed to be alone to process what she’d just heard but the garden was full of people who all turned to look at her and, kicking off the ridiculously high heels, she picked up her skirt and ran for the beach.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Immi make a move to follow her, saw Portia catch her arm and hold her back.
Andie didn’t stop until she was at the edge of the water and it was only Sofia’s precious dress that stopped her from wading in so that the sea could wash her clean.
It felt as if her entire life had been a lie. The one thing that she’d clung to, that was hers alone, had been a conspiracy between the two men she loved.
