Page 42 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘Mmm, that does sound good,’ I say, though I am also eyeing up the pork with Chianti sauce.

Cat frowns. ‘I guess I’ll just have soup?and no bread.’

The waiter returns and Jaelee rattles off her order, along with Mum’s and Cat’s, then adds a carafe of white wine. She points at me. ‘Did you decide?’

‘The pork.’

‘El puerco,’ she says to the waiter. He looks confused.

‘Il maiale, per favore,’ says Mum. Wow, her Italian really is good. Go, Mum!

‘Ahh, sì, the pork.’ He collects the menus and disappears inside.

‘Jae, you’ve got to stop speaking Spanish to the Italians,’ says Cat.

‘Why? He understood the other three dishes I ordered?and the wine.’

‘You hope. If I end up with tripe because of you …’ Jaelee rolls her eyes. A carafe and four glasses are deposited on the table and our waiter disappears again. I swear he’s doing the job of four people.

‘So, Catherine,’ says Mum. ‘You still haven’t told us where you and Jean-Luc are going to live after you’re married.’

Hah!You and Dad can get in line with the rest of us, I think, but I don’t laugh because Mum’s justified query has sent Cat into a tailspin. She looks like a goldfish who’s been unceremoniously dumped onto the cobblestones.

I start pouring wine?generous filled-to-the-brim glasses of it. Jaelee accepts hers with a raised eyebrow, indicating that she’s asked Cat the same question and is also none the wiser. We raise our glasses in a toast of solidarity and take big slugs while Cat flounders through a reply.

‘Uh … we’re still working out the details,’ she says cryptically.

‘Oh.’ There are dozens of different ‘Oh’s that our mum emits, each with its distinctive flavour and this one says, ‘I am judging you harshly’. Come to think of it, there are quite a few sub-varieties of the judgey ‘Oh’ too. Today’s comes with a sizeable dose of incredulity.

‘Well, you must know what will happen with Jane and the London flat?’ asks Mum. A basket of plain white crusty bread appears on the table and despite her earlier declaration that bread was to be avoided at all costs because it induces food babies, Cat grabs a large piece, drizzles it with olive oil, and takes a generous bite.

‘Mmm,’ she says, her mouth full of bread. This is a risky move as Mum abhors poor table manners. ‘We’re still working that out too. For now, I will stay in London and …’ she trails off, adding a shrug. Now it’s Mum’s turn to chug wine. At this rate, we’ll need another carafe before the food arrives. Speaking of …

‘More wine?’ asks the waiter.

‘Yes,’ say four women at once. I make a promise to myself?when we get back to the castle, I will seek out my future brother-in-law and get the low-down on their living situation.

‘Oh, Catherine. You look stunning.’

We’re in the fifth and final bridal shop in Siena, having struck out again at the fourth. This is the tenth dress she’s tried on and?thank god?it’s perfect. I mean, perfect. She looks like a sexy Disney princess from the 1930s. The dress is in cream satin, cut on the bias so it skims over her curves. The off-the-shoulder cowl neckline makes her decolletage look amazing, but my favourite part is the fishtail train?so sexy.

‘That’s the one, Cat. It’s gorgeous,’ I say, relieved that she’s (finally) found a replacement dress.

‘And it’ll go with your Jimmy Choos,’ adds Jaelee.

‘Oh, good point, Jaelee,’ I say.

Cat swings from side to side, gazing at herself in the mirror.

‘It is beautiful,’ she says.

‘What?’ I ask, sensing her reticence. She eyes the hand-written tag that sits on a damask pouffe, its figures blaring, ‘really expensive!’ in Italian. Oh, right. It’s way out of her price range. For some reason, Mum had insisted Cat try it on as soon as she found it on the rack. ‘To get a sense of what we’re looking for,’ she’d said. But this is just cruel. It fits perfectly, it’s a stunning design, and now Cat has to take it off and leave it behind.

Mum stands behind Cat and places her hands gently on her shoulders. ‘Catherine, your father and I want to buy this for you?as a gift.’ Oh, so Mum is not intent on torturing my sister?thank god!

‘What? Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.’

Mum smiles at Cat in the mirror. ‘Darling, I wasn’t there to help you choose your first dress, and you haven’t let your father and me pay for one iota of this wedding. Please. We want to do this for you.’