‘Is this what you do when you’re on a project?’
He grinned. ‘Hey, it’s healthy. At least I wasn’t suggesting what some of my colleagues used to do—doughnuts and coffee with four sugars. Carb overload.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘See you when you get back. Have a good time.’
‘Thanks, Alex. And, um, about last night …’ She swallowed hard. ‘I wanted to say thank you. For understanding.’
He laid his palm against her cheek. ‘Stop worrying. This is me you’re talking to. There are no pedestals for either of us to fall off. Go and find yourself a nice frock.’ His lips twitched. ‘And a flame-coloured veil.’
Isobel met their mothers and Saskia as planned at the railway station, albeit slightly late. And although she tried to get some information out of them about the wedding, none of them would tell her a single thing about Alex’s plans.
‘He’d have our guts for garters,’ Marcia said. ‘No can do.’
‘But I promise you’ll love it,’ Saskia added.
Anna nodded agreement. ‘And I know now just how much Alex loves you—because he’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it the perfect day.’
He didn’t love her, Isobel thought. Not in the way her mother believed he did. But that was something she didn’t want to explain, so she allowed herself to be distracted by dresses.
‘This,’ Anna said, holding out a cream silk shift dress, ‘is perfect.’ She made Isobel try it on and come and pirouette for the three of them. ‘That’s the one,’ she said.
Meanwhile, Marcia found the perfect pair of high-heeled cream court shoes to go with the dress. And they had them in Isobel’s size.
‘That’s the difficult bit done, then.’ Saskia smiled. ‘And I need a coffee break after all that hard work.’
Next were the dresses for the mums. And after the fourth shop, Isobel rubbed the base of her spine. ‘Time out. We’ve been walking for ages. Coffee.’
Marcia looked at her and then at Saskia. ‘I’ve known you two all your lives—and I know full well you can shop all day without a break. Are you doing this because of me?’
‘Of course not,’ Isobel fibbed, but she couldn’t look Marcia in the eye.
‘You arranged this between you,’ Marcia said suspiciously. ‘Breaks practically on the hour. Look, I’m fine. I’m not ill.’
Isobel exchanged a look with her best friend. ‘OK. I admit it. We’re worried about you, Marcia. You’re not an invalid, but you’ve had a rough time with your health. We don’t want to push you too hard.’
‘You want to stay well for the wedding, don’t you?’ Saskia added.
Marcia scowled. ‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘But they’re right,’ Anna cut in gently. ‘They’re worried about you, Marcia.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m ten years older than you, so I vote for a rest, too.’
‘I give in,’ Marcia said ruefully.
‘So are you going to humour Alex about the flame-coloured veil?’ Saskia asked over coffee.
‘So he is planning a Roman wedding,’ Isobel said.
‘No, no, no, no, no!’ Saskia, looking panicky, crossed her hands rapidly in front of her. ‘But he was going on about it last weekend. You could call his bluff and do it.’
‘I’m not sure an orange veil would look right with that dress, love,’ Marcia said.
‘But if it was made of crystal organza and you wore it more like a stole—actually, that would look stunning.’ Anna looked thoughtful. ‘Especially if your hair’s up and you wear finger-less elbow-length gloves and your bouquet’s a simple sheaf of lilies. If you choose the material today, I can hem it for you.’
Isobel spread her hands. ‘Well, as none of you will tell me anything, I’ll just have to let you decide for me.’
Saskia grinned. ‘And don’t you just hate not being in charge?’
Isobel scowled. ‘Alex called me a control freak, too.’
‘You are,’ Saskia said, laughing. ‘You like everything just so.’
‘It’s called doing your research properly.’ Isobel sighed. ‘My colleagues all have invitations to the reception, but he’s sworn them all to secrecy as well. Nobody will even give me a hint. It’s driving me insane.’
‘He’s not going to tell you, so there’s no point in stressing about it,’ Saskia told her.
‘So you’ve got everything now, apart from the gloves and the veil?’ Marcia asked. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue?’
‘I’ve got a new dress,’ Isobel said. ‘So that’s one of them.’
‘And you can borrow my gold bracelet—the one my parents gave me for my twenty-first,’ Anna said. ‘That takes care of old and borrowed. I’ll bring it to you on your wedding morning.’
‘And I’ll deal with the blue,’ Saskia said with a smile. ‘Something tasteful, Bel, I promise.’
‘Thank you. You’ve all gone to a lot of trouble over this.’ There was a huge lump in Isobel’s throat.
‘That’s because we love you,’ Anna said, hugging her daughter. ‘And we all want you to have the happiness you deserve. With Alex.’
Alex.
Her husband-to-be.
Who was equally convinced that everything would work out just fine.
She knew Alex was nothing like Gary. And, as Alex had pointed out, they were going into the marriage with their eyes wide open. Practical. Sensible. So why was the fear—the horrible feeling that everything was going to go pear-shaped—still dragging along behind her like a shadow?
Isobel managed to keep it away for the rest of the afternoon—just—while they went shopping for more shoes and the gloves to match her dress. Their last stop was to choose a length of shimmering flame-coloured crystal organza.
‘Don’t tell Alex about this,’ she said. ‘As he’s keeping me in suspense about everything, I want this to be a surprise.’
‘We won’t let him see the dress, either,’ Marcia promised.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll take these,’ Anna said, scooping up the bags containing Isobel’s dress, the shoes and the material for the wrap. ‘I’ll be helping you get ready, so I’ll bring them with me—that way Alex won’t see them before the big day.’
Isobel shivered. ‘Mum, I …’
‘Shh.’ Anna kissed her gently. ‘Of course you’ve got butterflies in your stomach. It’s only natural.’
They weren’t butterflies. They were elephants, doing the cancan.
‘But Alex is the right man for you,’ Anna said softly. ‘You love each other, so everything’s going to be fine.’
Was it?
Isobel wasn’t so sure—because they didn’t love each other. Not in the way their family seemed to think they did.
But she forced herself to smile. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
Over the weekend, Isobel found the perfect wedding present for Alex on the internet—a watch made of black ceramic, with no markers on the dial except for a diamond on the twelve. She discovered there was a stockist