‘Brooooke!’ a voice wailed from the en suite bathroom in their Venice hotel. Brooke sighed as she twisted Cara’s hair into waves with the straighteners.
‘What is it, Darce?’ she called back.
‘This bridesmaid’s dress is rubbish! You can see my knickers! I’ll have VPL in all the photos.’
‘Did you put those no-snag tights on that I packed for you?’
‘What?’
‘They’re in your case, you banana. Go look.’
A little white hurricane came hurtling in and dived head-first into her suitcase.
Brooke rubbed a bit of mousse into Cara’s hair to finish it off. ‘There we are. You’re gorgeous, Car.’
Cara went to admire herself in the mirror.
‘Ooh, I love it!’ she said, patting the sophisticated waves. ‘Brooke, you’re the best at doing hair.’
‘Well, I learnt from the best.’
‘Who?’
‘My mum,’ Brooke said, smiling. ‘She’s the queen of hair.’
Cara twisted round to admire herself from a different angle. ‘I look hot. Hey, are any boys coming to Janey’s wedding?’
‘Just Max. Oh, and Martin’s grandson, but he’s only three.’
Cara shrugged. ‘Well, Max’ll do, I guess.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Are you girls decent?’ Hayden’s voice called.
‘You ought to know by now,’ Brooke yelled back. ‘You can come in, though.’
He came in and whistled as Brooke stood up and twirled to let him admire her hot-pink cocktail dress.
‘Wow,’ he said, looking her up and down. ‘I mean… wow.’
‘Thanks.’ She nodded to his suit. ‘Looking pretty sexy yourself.’
He wrapped his arms around her and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Cara put her fingers down her throat and gagged.
‘Brooke, I can’t wear these!’ Darcie said, holding a pair of tights aloft. ‘They’re elephant-leg size.’
‘Oh. Those are mine. Sorry, I must have yours in my case.’ Brooke extricated herself from Hayden’s embrace and went to take them from her. ‘Elephant-leg size. Cheeky madam.’
‘Not what you signed up for that first night in the beer cellar, eh?’ Hayden whispered.
‘No.’ She kissed him again. ‘But I love it.’
He offered her his arm. ‘Well, shall we go?’
‘Hang on. Me and Darce still need to put our tights on.’
When everyone was wearing all the undergarments they needed, the group headed to the lobby to wait for a taxi. It deposited them in front of a lavish, cushioned gondola moored by an arched bridge.
A gondolier and violinist in white and gold livery stood one at each end of the boat, while a celebrant in the middle waited for the bride and groom to arrive. On the canal bank some chairs had been set up for the guests. Rhianna and the children were already there, along with Richard, Rhianna’s boyfriend and fellow postgraduate law student, who looked thrilled to have been invited as her plus-one. On the other side of the aisle sat the groom’s family: Martin’s son and daughter with their partners and children.
Livvy clapped her hands when she saw Cara and Darcie dressed in bridesmaids’ dresses identical to her own, and ran over to be made a fuss of by them. Max, too, sidled over to the girls, but far more hesitantly. The sight of his friends in their posh dresses seemed to bring out his shy side.
Rhianna stood up when she saw her sister. She plucked her elbow, and they drew a little to one side while Hayden sat down next to Richard.
‘How do you feel then?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know.’ Brooke’s eyes drifted to the family group awaiting the bride and groom. ‘Happy. Sad. Thoughtful. Wistful. Lots of things. I’m feeling everything today.’
‘I know what you mean. It feels like… everything’s starting afresh.’
‘Yes. It does feel like that.’
‘I brought you a wedding present.’
Brooke laughed. ‘I’m not getting married, Rhia.’
Rhianna cast an arch look at Hayden. ‘Well, not yet.’
‘Oh, don’t tease me today. I’m liable to laugh and then promptly burst into tears, with the emotional rollercoaster I’m on. What’s this present, then?’
‘It’s really for both of us.’ Rhianna reached into her clutch and handed something to her.
Brooke looked at the plaque, which was engraved with the words:
Brooke and Rhianna Padgett. Licensed to sell all intoxicating liquors for consumption on or off these premises.
‘Always a Padgett over the door, right?’ Rhianna said, smiling.
‘God, Rhia.’ Brooke dashed away a tear, laughing. ‘I told you I was primed to go off, didn’t I?’
‘I know. It feels more real when you see it in writing.’
‘I bet we’ll be the only pub in the area with a Cambridge graduate for a landlady. We should put that on the chalkboard instead of Dick Turpin.’
Rhianna laughed. ‘You’ll have to let me be quizmaster, then.’
‘Deal.’ Brooke looked at her watch. ‘They’re due any time. We’d better take our seats.’ She gave her sister a quick hug. ‘Thanks for the sign, Rhia. It’s perfect.’
They shepherded the children into their chairs and sat down. A few minutes later the violinist started to play, and everyone turned to watch the bride and groom walking down the aisle.
Janey looked radiantly happy, beaming at them all in a figure-hugging pale blue dress that Martin struggled to keep his eyes off. The groom was in a suit of pure white, and looked so happy and proud that Brooke decided to spare him the Saturday Night Fever gag she’d been planning to unleash on him later.
All eyes were on the couple as they murmured their vows, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, while the beautiful Italian violin music played softly in the background. When the service ended, Martin planted a soft kiss on his new wife’s lips and they stepped hand in hand onto the gondola. Brooke smiled as she watched it float away, not caring a jot about the tears pouring down her cheeks.
‘You soppy mare,’ Hayden muttered.
She snorted. ‘Says you.’
He took out a tissue and dabbed his eyes. ‘A lady would’ve pretended she hadn’t noticed.’
‘A gentleman wouldn’t have had his hand on my thigh throughout the service.’
‘Well, what do you think?’ he said, nodding to the gondola disappearing into the horizon.
‘About what?’
‘You know.’
She smiled. ‘You asking, are you?’
‘I might be. You answering?’
‘I might be.’
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘And, er, how exactly would you be answering?’
‘I’d be answering… I’ll think about it.’
‘That’s the best I’m getting, is it? I mean, I’m here in bloody Venice, asking you to marry me on the banks of a canal as we watch a gondola full of blissful newlyweds float off into the distance, gorgeous violin music all around us, and the best you can manage is—’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, all right. Yes, then, if it’ll stop you going on.’
‘My God, you’re romantic. I might just swoon.’
‘You’re a lucky man.’ She slapped his leg. ‘Come on. Let me buy you a drink.’