Page 56 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘I’ve told you to call me Karen, Jaelee.’

‘Okay, Karen, are you doing that on purpose?’

‘Doing what?’ From her tone, Mum?who is now stretched out on the lounger?is playing with us. ‘All I said was that Roberto’s massage was excellent. He has great hands?very skilled.’

Sarah throws her head back and laughs and we all join in, even Mum. ‘What’s so funny?’ asks Lindsey who’s just returned from her massage.

‘How was it?’ I ask.

‘Great. Maria?she has strong hands.’

‘Oh, my god,’ says Sarah, barely able to get the words out.

‘Why’s that funny?’ Lindsey looks between us, clearly baffled. ‘Oh, never mind. I’m going to get us another round. Sarah, Cat, you’re up.’ She wanders away towards the poolside bar.

‘I get Roberto,’ we both say at the same time.

I leap up. ‘It’s my wedding.’

‘It’s my fortieth,’ she retorts.

I have an idea. ‘Lou, want my spot with Maria?’

‘Sure.’ She gets up and slips into her flipflops.

‘You’re still gonna have to fight me for him,’ says Jae from behind me.

I turn. ‘What? That’s not fair.’

She grins at me. ‘All good?have the hot Italian man with the good hands. As you said, you’re the bride.’

Just then, a rotund, balding, middle-aged man exits the cabana and walks alongside the pool towards the bar. ‘Oh, look,’ says Mum, ‘there’s Roberto.’

‘Your turn, Sarah,’ I say.

I stand at the partly ajar door to Sarah and Josh’s room and tap lightly. ‘Sez?’

‘Come in. Just getting changed.’

When I enter, she’s slipping into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top. We’re dining in this evening, just the four of us, and ‘dining in’ at the apartment means eating outside on the balcony with the mosquitoes.

‘Today was fun, hey?’ she asks, stepping into her ballet flats.

‘It was. Thank you again. Best hen party ever.’ She grins but her smile fades the moment she sees me.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘You look a little … off.’

‘Oh, I’m all right. Too much sun, maybe. I’m not used to it.’ That’s sort of the truth. It was 24°C today?practically a heatwave in England?and it’s October.

She sits on the edge of the bed. ‘Bullshit. Come sit.’ I do, slumping onto the bed heavily. I stare at my hands, then hold out the left one, my eyes riveted to the ring on my third finger, Grand-mère Ellie’s ring.

‘Did you know that Vanessa used to wear this ring?’ I ask.

‘What? No. You said it was his grandmother’s.’

‘It was. Ellie, her name was. They were very close.’

‘Who? Ellie and Vanessa?’