‘You, too. And oh, my God. How amazing is that dress? You’ve really surpassed yourself this time, Claire.’
Claire smiled in acknowledgement. ‘I’m just glad we got it back.’
The hotel’s hairdresser and make-up artist cooed over the dress, too, and then Claire submitted to being prettied up before putting on her own dress and then helping Ashleigh with hers.
Sammy posed them both for photographs on the balcony. ‘Righty. I need to do the boys, now,’ she said when she’d finished. ‘See you at the town hall.’
‘OK?’ Claire asked when Sammy had gone.
Ashleigh gulped. ‘Yes. Just thinking.’
‘I know.’ It would be similar for Claire, if she ever got married: she’d be missing her mum, though her dad would be there—if he approved of Claire’s choice of man—and her mum’s family would be there, with Ashleigh and Sammy to support her.
Not that Claire thought she’d ever get married. All the men she’d ever been involved with had turned out to be Mr Wrong. Men she’d thought would share her dreams, but who just couldn’t commit. Men who’d been so casual with her emotions that she’d lost trust in her judgement.
‘But I think they’re here in spirit,’ Claire said softly. ‘They loved you so much, Ash. And Luke can’t wait to make you his bride. You’ve got a good guy, there.’
‘I know. I’m lucky.’ Ashleigh swallowed hard.
‘Hey. If you cry and your make-up runs, Sean will have my guts for garters,’ Claire said. She went into a dramatic pose. ‘Help! Help! Save me from your scary big brother!’
To her relief, it worked, and Ashleigh laughed; she was still smiling when Sean knocked on her door to say they needed to go.
SEAN HAD ALREADY seen the dress—albeit not at its best—but seeing his little sister wearing it just blew him away. The ivory dress emphasised Ashleigh’s perfect hour-glass shape by skimming in at the waist, then falling to the floor in soft folds. Her dark hair was drawn back from her face and pinned at the back as a base for her veil, and then flowed down in soft curls. She wore a discreet and very pretty tiara with sparkling stones and pearls to reflect the pearls in the bodice. And finally she was carrying a simple posy of dusky lavender roses, the same colour as Claire’s dress; the stems were tightly bound with ivory ribbon.
‘You look amazing, Ashleigh,’ he said. ‘Really amazing.’
Then he glanced at Claire. Again, he was shocked. He hadn’t seen the bridesmaid’s dress before, though he’d had a fair idea that it would be dusky lavender, the same colour as his waistcoat and the rose in his buttonhole. Although it, too, was strapless and had a sweetheart neckline, it was much plainer than Ashleigh’s dress and ended at the knee. Claire’s hair was dressed in a similar style to his sister’s, though without a veil and with a discreet jewelled headband rather than a tiara. Her roses were ivory rather than lavender, as a counterpoint to the bride’s bouquet, and her satin high heels were dyed to match her dress.
If he’d seen her across a crowded room as a complete stranger, he would’ve been drawn to her immediately. Approached her. Asked her out.
He pushed the thought away. This was Claire. He did know her. And, if they hadn’t made a truce for Ashleigh’s sake, they would’ve been sniping at each other within the next five minutes. She was absolutely not date material.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Ready,’ they chorused.
The official civil ceremony was held at the town hall in Anacapri. Only the main people from the wedding party were there: Ashleigh and Luke, with Luke’s best friend, Tom, as the best man, Claire as the bridesmaid and one of the witnesses, and himself as the other witness. Sammy was there, too, to take photographs.
After everything had been signed, the two open-topped cars took them to the private villa where the symbolic ceremony was being held and the rest of their family and friends were waiting to celebrate with them.
Luke and Tom went ahead to wait at the bridal arch, which was covered with gorgeous white flowers.
Then Ashleigh stood at the edge of the red carpet, her arm linked through Sean’s. He could feel her trembling slightly. Nervous, excited and a little sad all at the same time, he guessed. ‘Ashleigh, you’re such a beautiful bride,’ he said softly. ‘Our parents would be so proud of you right now.’
Ashleigh nodded, clearly too overcome to speak, and squeezed his arm as if to say, ‘You, too.’
‘Come on. Let’s get the party started,’ he said, and gave the signal to the traditional Neapolitan guitar and mandolin duo.
Their version of Pachelbel’s ‘Canon’ was perfect. And Sean was smiling as he walked his little sister down the aisle to marry the man she loved.
* * *
Claire had seen the photographs and knew that the garden where Ashleigh and Luke were getting married was spectacular, but the photographs really hadn’t done the place justice. The garden was breathtaking, overlooking the sea; lemon trees grew around the edge of the garden, their boughs heavy with fruit, and the deep borders were filled with rhododendrons and bougainvillea. There seemed to be butterflies everywhere. A symbol of good luck and eternal love, she thought.
She took the bouquet from Ashleigh and held it safely during the ceremony, and she had to blink back the tears as Ashleigh and Luke exchanged their vows, this time in front of everyone. She glanced at Sean, who was standing beside her, and was pleased to see that for once he was misty-eyed, too. And so he should be, on Ashleigh’s wedding day, she thought, and she looked away before he caught her staring at him.
Everyone cheered when the celebrant said, ‘You may now kiss the bride,’ and Luke bent Ashleigh back over his arm to give her a show-stopping kiss.
‘Let them have it, guys,’ Sammy called as Ashleigh and Luke started to walk back down the aisle, and the confetti made from white dried flower petals flew everywhere.
Once the formal photographs had been taken, waiters came round carrying trays filled with glasses of Prosecco. Ashleigh and Luke headed the line-up to welcome their guests; and then, finally, it was time for the meal. Ashleigh had chosen a semi-traditional top table layout, so Claire as the chief bridesmaid was at one end, next to Luke’s father. As Sean was standing in for the bride’s father, he was at the other end, between Ashleigh and Luke’s mother. And there were enough people between them, Claire thought, for them to be able to smile and hide their relief at not having to make small talk.
It was an amazing table, under a pergola draped with white wisteria. Woven in between the flowers were glass baubles, which caught the light from the tea-light candles set in similar glass globes on the table, and reflected again in the mirrored finish of the table. The sun was already beginning to set, and Claire had never seen anything so romantic in her life. And the whole thing was topped off by the traditional Neapolitan guitar and mandolin duo who played and sang softly during the meal.
If she ever got married, Claire thought, this was just the kind of wedding she’d want, full of love and happiness and so much warmth.
Finally, after the excellent coffee and tiny rich Italian desserts, it was time for the speeches. Luke’s was sweet and heartfelt, Tom’s made everyone laugh, but Sean’s made her blink back the tears.
He really did love Ashleigh. And, for that, Claire could forgive the rest.
The cake—a spectacular four-tier confection, which Claire knew held four different flavours of sponge—was cut, and then it was time for the dancing.
Ashleigh and Luke had chosen