Page 222 of Private Lives

Sophie rolled her eyes.

‘Mum told me, of course. So where is he?’

‘Oh, he’s filming,’ said Anna vaguely. ‘Anyway, he’s just a friend.’

‘I assumed so,’ said Sophie with a touch of bitchiness. ‘Especially now that he’s back with Jessica.’

Anna was surprised that she could already think of Sam and Jessica with detachment; as if they were characters in a glossy soap opera, which she supposed, now that they were out of her life, they actually were.

‘Still, you have brought a rather good-looking date with you,’ said Sophie. ‘Almost Sam Charles handsome, if you like that Mr Darcy broody thing.’

‘Matt? He’s just a friend too,’ Anna said honestly.

‘My, you have been busy, haven’t you?’ said Sophie, slipping her arm through her sister’s and taking her to one side. ‘I’m so glad we’ve put all this behind us,’ she said, ‘because I want you to be the first person to know my news.’

Anna’s hand flew to her mouth.

‘You’re pregnant?’ she gasped.

‘God, no,’ said Sophie with distaste. ‘Much better than that. I spoke to my agent this morning, and Dorset Kitchen has been green-lit for a CBS pilot in the States – isn’t that brilliant? Obviously they don’t want it to be called Dorset Kitchen; maybe Sophie’s Choice or something like that, because I really need to start extending my brand Stateside, don’t you think? My agent says I can be the new Martha Stewart.’

‘So you’ll move to the States?’

Sophie nodded, the little-girl excitement back.

‘New York. Isn’t it fabulous?’

Sophie took a sip of champagne and pointed her finger in the direction of the crowd, where she could just see Matthew talking animatedly to her father.

‘I think you should go out with him,’ she said, with the slight slur of someone on her fifth cocktail.

‘Matthew?’ Anna smiled.

‘He’s gorgeous. If I wasn’t an about-to-be-married woman, I might be interested in him myself.’

Anna felt her back suddenly stiffen.

‘I told you he’s just a friend.’

‘You like him,’ purred Sophie theatrically, as if she was licking butterscotch sauce off a spoon.

Matt had moved on from Brian Kennedy and was now sitting on a low stone wall beneath a cypress tree. Anna had to admit her sister was right: he was pretty handsome. Bloody handsome, in fact. Perhaps not as beautiful as Sam, of course, more rugged, less perfect. But then maybe that was a good thing; perfection hadn’t exactly worked out for her, had it? Somewhere inside her she felt a flutter, which she dismissed as alcohol. Their eyes connected through the crowd, and as he smiled at her, she knew it was too late to turn away. But she didn’t want to turn away.

She grabbed a flute of champagne and took a long swig to fortify herself as she weaved through the sea of people towards him.

‘And what’s so funny?’ she asked, perching on the wall next to him.

‘Oh, nothing. I was just watching the joyful reconciliation of two sisters. How was it?’

Anna shrugged lightly.

‘Sophie is Sophie. She’s not going to change.’

They sat silently for a moment, watching the blue-green ripples on the swimming pool opposite them. Anna liked this, just sitting, being together. Some people could make you feel happy and comfortable just being in their company. With Matt, she didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to try and impress him. He seemed to like her just as she was.

‘So what have you been telling everyone about us?’ he asked after a while.

She glanced at him.