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Jemma put down the receiver and looked at Tess, her mouth open.
‘Leonard,’ she whispered. ‘It was Leonard.’
Tess nodded. ‘I knew.’
*
The rehearsal dinner at the Pelicano hotel was beautiful. Alessandro had worked his magic, transforming the hotel’s orangery into a sophisticated yet intimate space. The eight round tables were simply covered with French brocade linens, and each had a centrepieces of pale yellow and white blooms cascading from a large cream vase. It was as understated as you could get considering the occasion. The seventy–five guests – family and close friends plus a smattering of celebrities and political dignitaries – had been served the finest wines from cut–glass crystal, and the menu offered the state’s finest produce: braised artichokes with fennel and lemon, fresh lobster and miniature key lime pies from Joe Stone Crab. When the coffee had been served, Wendell Billington stood to give a surprisingly heartfelt speech welcoming Brooke to the family, then Sean brought the house down with a story about the time Brooke, aged seven, had written a letter to Prince Charles proposing marriage. Ignoring his sister’s blushes, Sean revealed that the palace had been good enough to write back to politely decline on the grounds that HRH was already married to Princess Diana.
After the speeches, the French windows were opened and the party spilled out onto the hotel’s terrace and down into the tropical gardens. Excusing herself from Rose Billington, Brooke quietly slipped down the stairs and into the tropical gardens, finding a hidden nook surrounded by mango trees. She sat down on a cold stone bench and breathed in the warm evening air, enjoying a little time out, and pretending for just one minute she was plain old Brooke Asgill again. All evening she had enjoyed having people tell her she looked beautiful, fielding the wide–eyed enquiries about Nicholas’s long biscuit silk dress, but right now she needed a moment to sit and be still, to listen to the sea, smell the blossoms, to think for herself. Her heart sank a little as she heard footsteps on the path. She looked up, expecting to see David; he had been so wonderful all day, so solicitous, so kind, as if he understood that the wedding, however perfect, would be difficult for her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had come to check she was okay. But it wasn’t David, it was Tess.
‘Oh hi Tess,’ she said, forcing a smile as Tess came to sit beside her.
‘Was everything okay in there?’ she asked.
Brooke sighed, knowing she couldn’t lie to her friend. Besides, she was the only one who knew the whole story about her and Matt. Well, most of it, anyway.
‘I’m just trying to convince myself certain things didn’t happen,’ said Brooke quietly. ‘So far it’s working.’
‘So the thing with Matt–’
‘It’s definitely all over,’ said Brooke quietly.
Tess nodded. ‘You made the right decision.’
Brooke looked down at her hands. She hadn’t told Tess why she had no plans to see Matt Palmer ever again. Why not let her assume it had been a decision based on her love of David? Hell, it might even be true.
‘The right decision … yes,’ said Brooke. ‘In fact, I’m off on a date with my fiancé right now. David should be here any minute to take me for a last romantic interlude as a single person.’
‘Ah, well in that case I’d better go.’
‘Back to Sean?’ said Brooke, looking up with a smile.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Tess wryly.
‘I saw that kiss by the rest rooms after Sean’s speech.’
‘You did?’ Tess shook her head laughing. ‘I suppose I should have told you earlier – not that there was anything to tell. We had a little thing in Hawaii but I thought he was trouble.’
Brooke raised her brow.
Tess shrugged. ‘But, even if he is, I like him a lot. One thing this year has taught me is that you can be with someone for the longest time, the person who you think is right for you, but it can still be wrong. And that person that you think is wrong for you can be so, so right.’ Tess giggled. ‘If any of that gibberish made any sense?’
Brooke nodded. ‘Perfect sense.’
Just then, David appeared from the darkness. In a midnight blue suit, his hair cropped close to his head, Tess thought he looked like James Bond.
‘Well, I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,’ said Tess, heading back towards the hotel as David took Brooke’s hand. He led her down into the gardens, down a torchlit path, until they reached a dock, where a small boat was waiting for them.
‘Oh honey,’ said Brooke, her eyes sparkling, ‘it’s perfect.’
David climbed on board, helping Brooke in her long dress across the rickety gangplank.
He started the engine and the boat carved through the water, which was still and black with ribbons of silver dancing across its surface. In just a few minutes they had arrived at another small island, just a circle of sand and scrub barely two hundred metres wide. David pulled a torch and a small backpack from behind the wheel and threw them onto the beach then, with an ‘allez–oop!’, he hoisted a laughing Brooke over his shoulder and splashed to the shore. It was deliciously deserted and romantic on the beach, the sand cold beneath their bare feet, the full moon and stars providing a shimmering light. David spread a blanket on the sand, popped a bottle of fizzing champagne and poured out two paper cups.
‘To tomorrow,’ he said, tapping his cup against hers. In the distance they could hear music and laughter drifting from the hotel, and Brooke laughed, hiking up her dress and crossing her legs, thinking that – despite the million–dollars’ worth of jewels she was wearing: long chandelier Harry Winston earrings and a rope of diamonds borrowed from Rose Billington – she still felt like Robinson Crusoe.
‘Oh, why don’t we do this more often, honey?’ she asked happily.
