‘Oh, I do hope it’s glorious.’ Annie grinned.
‘I’ll let Sennen show you the barn,’ Rita added. ‘Where is Michael, by the way?’
‘Oh, some of us, including the delicious Mr Stone, are staying at that fancy hotel in Polheron,’ Annie gushed. ‘First thing, make-up artist, hairdresser, the works. I don’t care about not seeing him before the wedding. At our age, death will probably get us before bad luck.’ She shrugged. ‘I just wanted to settle the die-hard yurters in first. Show them how gorgeous it all is here.’
She clapped her hands suddenly. ‘Giovanni!’ She waved to a sharply dressed man who lifted his arm back. ‘My beautiful friend, also ex cabin crew. He’s walking me down the aisle. Not sure I mentioned that, Sennen.’
Sennen laughed and waved. ‘You didn’t, but lucky you, he’s hot to trot,’ Sennen added, without thinking.
‘Sadly, not in the direction of a vagina,’ Annie said, deadpan. ‘Marrying Clive, a fellow trolley dolly in Sicily, next year.’ She turned back to Sennen. ‘I read that dreadful article. What a bitch of a woman, that writer was.’ Then she smiled serenely. ‘As long as the wheels stay on my wagon, the rings aren’t lost, the champagne’s cold, and my man is hot, I don’t much care what happens outside of that. So, Foxtrot Oscar to her, I say.’
‘Tell her Imogen’s staying here, just in case,’ Rita murmured to Sennen, as Annie checked her phone at a newly arrived ping.
Rita watched them head towards the barn, heart full. Marriage at sixty. It was unexpected, yes, but somehow for these two, perfect timing and entirely wonderful.
FORTY-SIX
Rita woke just after six, the pale morning light slipping through the curtains like it was trying not to disturb her. Her first instinct was automatic. She reached for her phone. Nothing.
No messages. No emojis. No badly cropped Facebook memories from people she hadn’t seen since 1998. Not even a rogue ‘HBD’ from someone half asleep. She frowned, refreshed her messages, then told herself not to be stupid. It was early. People were busy. Today of all days, everyone would be running around like headless chickens.
Still… it did bother her. She showered, put on her old clothes to go and feed the animals, checked again. She told herself it was fine. They’d all probably decided to do itproperlytomorrow when everyone had more time.
Jago did message, eventually.
Happy birthday, beautiful. Hope today’s not too manic. See you later x.
No call, though.
Rita stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary: no Sen, no Thomas either. She slipped the phone into her pocket and made her way up the meadow.
On her way back down, she stuck her head in the barn. Sennen was briefing the caterers.
She ran over to Rita and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Happy birthday, Mum. Love you but must get on.’
‘Where’s that brother of yours?’
‘Oh… err… he’s busy, I can’t remember what he said he was doing.’
Rita had no time to question further before Michael spotted her. He was already dressed in his wedding attire: the most beautiful tailored navy suit with a crisp white shirt and crazy patterned tie. He looked really well, Rita thought, younger even than when he had first arrived at the retreat. He crossed the space in three long strides and pulled her into a hug so fierce it knocked the breath from her. ‘I’m not very clean,’ Rita wheezed.
‘And also, not alone in there, clearly.’ He laughed, pointing to her tummy.
Rita raised her eyebrows. ‘Very much not alone, another set of twins!’
‘Bloody hell, you don’t do things by halves, do you?’ he boomed in his posh southern accent.
Rita checked her watch. ‘What are you doing here so early, anyway?’
‘I cannot be doing with the future Mrs Stone fannying around getting ready; I’ve left her with her trusty bridesmaids. I needed the peace of lovely Rita and her lovely retreat. It’s good to see you.’ He was truly sincere. ‘I also have to say thank you,’ he added, his voice now rough with emotion. ‘Because of you, Rita, I didn’t just find myself… I found a diamond in Annie.’ Rita smiled, blinking hard. ‘I’m sober now. I know, I know, crazy, eh?’He looked almost sheepish. ‘And I’m living life how I’ve always wanted to.’
She squeezed his hands. ‘Happiness is what counts, isn’t it? At whatever age.’
Michael searched her face. ‘It really is. And areyouhappy, Rita?’
The answer came instantly. ‘Yes. Yes, I am. Happy and very busy to make sure everything is perfect for your big day. Let me show you to the Nook. Zenya will be sorting breakfast for the guests shortly.’
‘I’m right behind you.’ Zenya fell into line. ‘It’s just eggs, toast and pastries this morning. So poached, boiled or fried?’
