It Started at a Wedding...

The taxi driver loaded their luggage into the car. Claire and Sean were sitting together in the back seat. She was very aware of his nearness, and it made her twitchy. She didn’t want to be this aware of Sean. And how did you make small talk with someone who had nothing in common with you?

She looked out of the window. ‘Oh, there’s Vesuvius.’ Looming over the skyline, a brooding hulk of a mountain with a hidden, dangerous core.

‘You went there with Ashleigh, didn’t you?’ he asked.

‘And Sammy. Three years ago. It was amazing—like nothing any of us had ever seen before. It was what I imagine a lunar landscape would look like, and we squeaked like schoolkids when we saw steam coming out of the vents.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘I think that’s why Ash chose to get married in Capri, because she fell in love with the island when we came here and had a day trip there.’

They both knew the other reason why Ashleigh hadn’t planned to get married in the church where she and Sean had been christened and their parents had got married—because their parents were buried in the churchyard and it had been too much for Ashleigh to bear, the idea of getting married inside the church while her parents were outside.

‘It’s a nice part of the world,’ Sean said.

‘Very,’ Claire replied. She ran out of small talk at that point and spent the rest of the journey looking out of the window at the coastline, marvelling at the houses perched so precariously on the cliffsides and the incredible blueness of the sea. At the same time, all her senses seemed to be concentrating on Sean. Which was insane.

Finally the taxi dropped them at the marina in Sorrento. Claire waited with their luggage while Sean collected their tickets—and then at last they boarded the hydrofoil and were on their way to Capri.

There were large yachts moored at the marina. As they drew closer she could see the buildings lining the marina, painted in brilliant white or ice cream shades. There were more houses on the terraces banking up behind them, then the white stone peak of the island.

Once they’d docked, they took the funicular railway up to the Piazzetta, then caught a taxi from the square; she noticed that the cars were all open-topped with a stripy awning above them to shade the passengers. So much more exotic than the average convertible.

The taxi took them past more of the brilliant white buildings, in such sharp contrast to the sea and the sky. There were bougainvillea and rhododendrons everywhere, and terracotta pots full of red geraniums. Claire had always loved the richness and depth of the colours on the south European coast.

At last, they reached the hotel.

‘Thank you for arranging this,’ she said as they collected their keys. ‘And you said you’d give me your friend’s details?’ She grabbed a pen and paper, ready to take them down as Sean gave them to her. ‘Thanks. Last thing—milk, white or dark chocolate?’

‘I have no idea. You’re sending her chocolate?’

‘You’ve already sent flowers.’ She smiled. ‘I guess you can’t really send anyone confectionery, with your business being in that line.’ Admittedly Farrell’s specialised in toffee rather than chocolates, but it would still be a bit of a fauxpas. ‘I’ll play it safe and send a mixture.’

‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘See you later.’

He’d made it clear that he didn’t plan to spend much time with her. Which suited Claire just fine—the less time they were in each other’s company, the less likelihood there was of another fight.

She let the bellboy help her carry her luggage to her room. She’d barely set the dress boxes on the bed in her room when there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ she called with a smile, having a very good idea who it would be.

Ashleigh walked in—physically so like Sean, with the same dark eyes and dark hair, but a million times easier to be with and one of Claire’s favourite people in the whole world. Claire hugged her fiercely. ‘Hey, you beautiful bride-to-be. How are you?’

Ashleigh hugged her back. ‘I’m so glad to see you! I can’t believe you’ve been flying back and forth between England and Italy all day. That’s insane, Claire, even for you.’

Claire shrugged. ‘You’re worth it. Anyway, I’m here now.’ She held her friend at arm’s length. ‘You look gorgeous. Radiant. Just as you should be.’

‘And you look shattered,’ Ashleigh said, eyeing her closely. ‘You were up before dawn to get your first flight here.’

‘I’m fine. I, um, had a bit of a nap on the plane,’ Claire admitted.

‘Good—and you must be in dire need of something to eat and a cold drink.’

‘A cold drink would be nice—but, before we do anything else, I need you to try on these dresses so I can get the alterations started.’ Claire hugged her again. ‘I’m so sorry that it’s all gone so wrong.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Ashleigh said loyally.

That wasn’t how Sean saw it, but Claire kept that thought to herself.

Ashley tried on the dresses and looked critically at herself in the mirror. Finally, she made her decision. ‘I think this one.’

‘Good choice,’ Claire said.

Thankfully, the dress didn’t need much altering. Claire took the dressmaking kit from her luggage and pinned the dress so it was the perfect fit.

‘You’re not doing any more work on that tonight,’ Ashleigh said firmly. ‘It’s another day and a half until the wedding, and you’ve been travelling all day, so right now I want you to chill out and relax.’

‘I promise you, I plan to have an early night,’ Claire said. ‘But I still need to check the waistcoats on the men. And I would kill for a shower.’ All the travelling had made her feel tired, as well as sticky; running some cool water over her head might just help to keep her awake a bit longer.

‘Sort the men’s fitting tomorrow after breakfast,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Just have your shower, then come and meet us on the terrace when you’re done. I’ll have a long, cold drink waiting for you. With lots and lots of ice.’

‘That sounds like heaven,’ Claire said gratefully.

When Ashleigh had gone, Claire hung up all the dresses and waistcoats, and had a shower. Then she joined her best friend, her husband-to-be and their best man on the terrace. To her relief, Sean wasn’t there.

‘He had some phone calls to make,’ Ashleigh explained. ‘You know Sean. He always works crazy hours.’

Probably, Claire thought, because he’d been thrown in at the deep end when he’d had to take over the family business at the age of twenty-four after their parents had been killed in a car crash. Working crazy hours had got him through the first year, and it was a habit that had clearly stuck. ‘Well—cheers,’ she said, and raised her glass as the others echoed her toast.

* * *

Somehow Claire managed to avoid Sean for most of the next day; their only contact was just after breakfast, when she did the final fitting of the waistcoats and checked that they went perfectly with the suits and shirts. She was busy for most of the day making the last-minute alterations to Ashleigh’s dress, and when she was finished Sean was still busy making phone calls and analysing reports.

Then again, the sheer romance of the island of Capri would be wasted on a man like Sean, Claire thought. He was too focused on his work to notice the gorgeous flowers or the blueness of the sea. So much so that she’d half expected him not to join them for the surprise that she and Luke had organised for Ashleigh that evening; when he joined them in the taxi, she had to hide her amazement.

‘So where are we going?’ Ashleigh asked.

‘You’ll see. Patience, Miss Farrell,’ Claire said with a grin. Actually, it was something that she was looking forward to and dreading in equal measure, but she knew that it was something her best friend would love, so she’d force herself to get over her fears. It was just a shame that Sammy wasn’t there to join them as her flight from New York had been delayed. Which meant that, instead of being able to let Sammy defuse the awkwardness between herself and Sean, Claire was going to have to make small talk with him—because she could hardly talk only to the best man and the groom-to-be and ignore Sean completely.

Finally they arrived at the chairlift.

‘Oh, fabulous!’ Ashleigh hugged Claire and then her husband-to-be. ‘I love this place. I didn’t think we’d get time to do this.’

‘It was Claire’s idea,’ Luke said with a smile. ‘She said sunset at the top of Monte Solaro would be incredibly romantic.’

‘Especially because it’s outside the usual tourist hours and we’ll have the place all to ourselves. I can’t believe you arranged all this.’ Ashleigh looked thrilled. ‘Thank you so much, both of you.’

Twelve minutes, Claire reminded herself as she was helped onto the chair. It would only take twelve minutes to get from the bottom of the chairlift to the very top of the island. She wasn’t going to fall off. It was perfectly safe. She’d done this before. Thousands and thousands of tourists had done this before. The chairs were on a continuous loop, so all she had to do was let them help her jump off at the top. It would be fine.

Even so, her palms felt slightly damp and she clung on to the green central pole of her chair for dear life. Thankfully, her bag had a cross-body strap, so she didn’t have to worry about holding on to that, too. Her hands ached by the time she reached the top, but she managed to get off the chair without falling flat on her face.

Just as she and Luke had arranged, there was a table at the panoramic viewpoint overlooking the faraglioni, the three famous vertical columns of rock rising out of the sea. There was a beautiful arrangement of white flowers in the centre of the table, and white ribbons on the wicker chairs. When they sat down, the waiter brought over a bottle of chilled Prosecco and canapés.