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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

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