by Liz Fielding
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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ANDIE HEARD THE SQUEAK of the sand against his shoes as Cleve crossed the beach but didn’t turn around, not because she couldn’t bear to look at him, but because she was afraid that if she did she would cry.
He’d said there would be tears after bedtime but she wasn’t the girl who’d had her heart broken and cried enough tears to flood China. There would be tears but not here, not in front of the man who’d lied to her.
She was a grown woman and she would handle this with dignity. She would send away all the people who loved her, who’d come to see them married. She would forget about the fantasy happy ever after. Because it was a fantasy. Even when she was telling herself that she was marrying to give her baby a father, a proper home, that it was for Cleve, she’d been fooling herself. This wedding was for that eighteen-year-old girl who’d fallen hopelessly in love with a bad-boy flyer…
She’d just needed a few minutes to gather herself, to come to terms with that, but it wasn’t going to happen.
‘I’m guessing this is more than last-minute cold feet,’ he said, making no move to touch her as he reached her side.
‘Give the man a coconut.’
‘Can we talk about it?’
‘Talk?’ She heard the sarcasm coming out of her mouth but this wasn’t her hormones reacting. This was visceral, gut deep… ‘Now you want to talk?’
He sighed. ‘I’m guessing your father has said something.’
She turned on him. ‘Don’t you dare blame him!’
It was a mistake. He’d relaxed in the days they’d spent together, lost the grey, gaunt look as he’d worked in the sun and his eyes were no longer the colour of wet slate but had taken on a little of the blue in the sky, the sea. While, in her head, she wanted to scream at him, her body responded to the memory of his touch, the closeness they’d built between them, sharing not just their bodies but their innermost thoughts.
At least that was what she’d been doing. He’d been selective with what he’d revealed.
‘We were just having one of those father and daughter chats,’ she said, when she could force down the lump in her throat. ‘The kind you see in old movies when he’s about to give his daughter away to a man he thought wasn’t good enough for her but who, when the chips are down, turned out to be a hero.’ She sniffed, blinked. She would not cry. ‘Except you’re no hero.’
‘Miranda—’
‘Why do you call me Miranda?’ she demanded. ‘No one else does that.’
‘The first time I saw you, you offered me your hand and said, “I’m Miranda Marlowe, it’s my eighteenth birthday and I’m a pilot.”’
She swallowed, turned away to hide the sting of tears that would not be denied. The moment was imprinted on her memory.
‘You took my hand, kissed my cheek and said, “Happy birthday, Miranda. Great landing. Come and see me when you’ve got your CPL and I’ll give you a job.”’
And then she’d been looking into his eyes and the only flying either of them had been thinking about hadn’t involved an aircraft.
Cleve turned to look at her. ‘If anyone had told me that I’d fall in love at first sight I would have told them they were off their head, but everything changed for me that day.’
‘And then Dad made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Me or the Hornet.’
He didn’t deny it.
‘He was looking out for you, Miranda. I hope to be as good a father to our little girl—’
‘And if it’s a boy? What will you do then?’ she snapped. ‘Make sure he knows which side his bread is buttered?’
‘If it’s a boy we’ll call him George and keep Daisy in the bank for next time.’
‘Next time? You lied to me, Cleve!’
‘Lied?’
‘I came to you for a job and you acted as if you remembered your promise which, to be honest, I was sure you’d forgotten ten minutes after you had your hand up my skirt,’ she said. ‘Or was it ten minutes after you forgot about our first proper date?’ She didn’t give him time to reply. ‘That’s the one when you were going to take me out to celebrate buying the Hornet.’
‘I didn’t forget,’ he said. ‘I had it all planned. I’d booked the restaurant. I was going to pick you up at your home, bring flowers for your mother, be glowered at by your father, giggled at by your sisters.’
‘I didn’t want…’ She stopped. ‘I didn’t need any of that.’ She shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Cleve? I would have understood. I would have waited.’
There was a moment of silence while they both absorbed that betraying ‘waited’. A moment in which his hand reached for hers and, without thinking, she took it.
‘I couldn’t tell you. That was the deal I made with your father. He knew that if I’d told you why I’d walked away you wouldn’t have accepted it.’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to take a step back? Your dress is about to…’
She used her free hand to lift her hem clear as the sea swirled around her feet.
‘What happened to the green and yellow dress?’
‘Immi vetoed it. Apparently, I’m not tall enough or skinny enough to carry it off. When my grandmother brought me her pearls she told me that this was the dress Sofia was wearing when King Ludano fell in love with her.’
‘I’m not surprised. If I hadn’t fallen in love with you six years, eight months and fifteen days ago, I would certainly fall in love with you now.’
‘Don’t…’ She shook her head, pulled a
way. ‘Don’t say something you don’t mean. We both know you only took me on because Dad offered to pay you.’
‘He offered but I didn’t take his money.’
She met his gaze head-on.
‘Ask him if you don’t believe me. Ask Lucy. She’ll show you the books.’
‘But…’ She shook her head. ‘There wasn’t a job for me, Cleve. It was weeks before I was flying more than a couple of times a week. At the time I was too thrilled to give it any thought but you couldn’t possibly have afforded to employ me under those conditions.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten my promise and I would have kept it even if I’d had to pay you out of my own pocket.’
‘That’s crazy. If you’d said come back in three months I would have been over the moon…’ She moved back a step as the sea began to creep up her ankles. ‘How did you explain it to Rachel?’
‘I told her the truth. That your father had bailed me out when I was in trouble and I owed him.’
‘And she accepted that?’
‘Probably not, but she was clever enough not to make a fuss.’
‘That’s why you bought the new Mayfly, isn’t it? Because Dad bailed you out.’
‘He was in trouble, but it was more than that. Not only had he given me his trust but despite what he wanted, all the plans he had for you, he had shown how much he loved you by giving you what you wanted most in the world. Your wings.’
Now there were tears…
‘Oh, damn!’ She sniffed. ‘Immi bought a load of special tissues but I left mine behind.’
He produced a freshly ironed linen handkerchief from his pocket and, cradling her face in his hand, wiped away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek, giving her no choice but to look at him.
‘I’m going to tell you something now and it’s the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. You asked me why I married Rachel.’
‘No…’ She pulled away from the drugging touch of his hand and began to walk away. She didn’t want to hear any of this but he was beside her, blocking her escape, and there was nowhere to go but the sea.
‘Your father was right about me, Miranda. I was about as solid as a marshmallow. It wasn’t just the girls. I was literally winging it. I still don’t know why the bank loaned me the money for that first Mayfly except, as it turns out, they were winging it too. Then I met you.’