For Dot with love and gratitude

‘You want to know how it’s done? I can’t tell you that. Shh, or you’ll spoil the magic.’

Freddie Puck: The Art of Illusion

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

1982: Tatiana

Halloween

Part One: There May I Marry Thee

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

1983: Tatiana

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

1986: Tatiana

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

1988: Tatiana

Part Two: Ill Met by Moonlight

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

1992: Bron

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

1995: Bron

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

1998: Bron

Part Three: The Course of True Love

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

2002: Tatiana

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

2007: Tatiana

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

2012: Tatiana

Part Four: And All is Mended

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Now: Bron

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Now: Bron

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Now: Bron and Tatiana

Epilogue: Three years later

Acknowledgements

Afterword

About the Author

By the same author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

‘Thou speakest aright:

I am that merry wanderer of the night.

I jest to Oberon and make him smile’

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Act II, Scene 1

‘“Lord what fools these mortals be …” You could say that’s my mantra. It’s easy to hypnotise the gullible, but I’ve managed to hypnotise sceptics too. I like to think Shakespeare knew a thing or two about hypnotism.’

Freddie Puck interviewed in The Sun, June 1982

1982: Tatiana

‘You’re late,’ Freddie Puck was standing languidly by the stage door, as Tatiana came flying down the street straight from dinner with her agent, Susan Peasebottom, where she’d both eaten and drunk more then she should have. He was smoking a cigarette, and as usual, looked calm and in control. She hated the way he always did that; she always felt ill at ease around Freddie, as if he knew a secret about her that she did not. But then that was part of what he did, play mind games on people to screw them up.

‘You’re lucky I’m here at all,’ she muttered. After the offer Susan had put to her this evening, she had been very tempted not to turn up.

Freddie looked her up and down quizzically – honestly, sometimes she felt like she was just a lump of meat to him.

‘You done something to your hair?’

Tatiana blushed. She wasn’t sure about her new haircut, a drastic departure from the Farrah look she’d been sporting for the last couple of years. Her hairdresser, Julie, had produced an article from an American mag which pronounced that long flickbacks were out, short was in, and hair for some reason should be red. So Tatiana had been persuaded to have it dyed, trimmed and hacked, so now she had a longish piece at the back, but the hair at the top was cut short and swept back in waves – or it had done when she’d come out of the salon this afternoon. After a couple of hours in a smoky dive with Susan Peasebottom, followed by an undignified race up the road, Tatiana felt sure her hair wasn’t quite the crowning glory the article had promised.

‘Yes,’ she mumbled, almost wishing he hadn’t noticed.

‘Nice,’ said Freddie, nonchalantly flicking out his ash as she walked past him into the theatre, and as usual she had no way of knowing whether he really meant it, or whether he was just kidding her.

‘Tati, darling, love the hair!’ Damn. Bron came out of his dressing room (it still irked her that he had his own dressing room, while she had to share) and gave her a hug. ‘How was dinner?’

‘Great,’ said Tati, hoping he hadn’t noticed the slight flinch as he touched her. It was still the same between them. It was. She kept telling herself that. She had to believe it.

‘Any news?’ he said lightly. She’d let slip there might be something, now she wished she hadn’t. She wanted time to work out what she was going to do.

‘There might be a part in a soap coming up,’ she said.

‘A soap?’ Bron’s face was almost comic in his dismay. ‘You can’t do a soap, darling, Tati, you can’t. It’s selling out.’

The frustration spilled out of her.

‘And this? This isn’t selling out?’ she said. ‘Freddie bloody Puck’s promises won’t pay the rent.’

‘He’s in talks with a TV production company,’ said Bron, ‘it’s only a matter of time …’

Tati put her hands up, ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she said. ‘Freddie’s always in sodding talks with a TV company. This is real, Bron. I want you to be happy for me.’

Bron slumped, and gave her the sad look she’d seen too much of late. ‘But what about us?’ he said. ‘What about our plans?’

‘I know, we’ll have our own theatre company,’ she said. She’d heard it too many times before. ‘Perhaps I had plans too, but we all know what happened to them.’

She couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice.

‘Tati,’ said Bron, there were tears in his eyes, ‘You know I’m sorry –’

‘Don’t.’ Tati looked at him sadly. ‘It’s too late for all that. I have to think about the future now.’

‘We both do,’ said Bron, reaching out and holding her hands. ‘Come on, Tati, we’re still young, I still want to do Shakespeare with you. One day …’

‘Maybe I can’t wait for one day anymore.’

She’d said it. Words that she’d never wanted to say, and when she saw how Bron slumped even more, she wished them back. ‘Look,’ she said, letting go of his hands gently, ‘I’m late, we’ve got a show to do. We’ll talk about this later.’

Giving him a swift kiss and a hug, she left him in the corridor and went to get ready, her thoughts churning. Susan’s offer was tempting, but was it the right thing to do?

As usual, it was squashed in the girls’ dressing room. Bron didn’t have this problem in his single dressing room, thought Tatiana bitterly as she found her dressing table in the corner. Naturally the male star of the show couldn’t slum it like she did. She was so mixed up. She loved Bron, she really did, but she hated this, and it wasn’t fair. Someone had laughingly written ‘Star’ in lipstick on her mirror. Ha, bloody ha. The joke was certainly on her, she thought sourly as she sat herself down, and with the practice of an old hand started to apply her stage make-up.

The room was hot and crowded, and full of the noise of women’s chatter. Like so many cheeping hens, Tatiana thought bitchily. She was more of a man’s woman. Women and their idle talk bored her. Which didn’t make for popularity among her peer group, but Tatiana didn’t really care. This batch of hens was even duller than most, so she didn’t feel she was missing out. They were the backstage chorus dancing to Freddie Puck’s tune, as all of them were on this Illusions tour. As she was. As Bron was.

She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. Pushing twenty-five and was this all there was to offer? She thought again about the deal on the table, and felt her stomach churn. It was all very well for Bron to tell her to be patient, that Freddie’s incessant talks with production companies about a TV series of Illusions would eventually come to fruition, but she couldn’t see it herself.

Tatiana scrutinised her face. Still pretty, she judged – pretty enough to do what she had to do in Bron’s show, at any rate. But for how long? This was a cruel business for a woman. Twenty-five wasn’t far from thirty. Then what would happen to her? When she and Bron had started out, he’d promised her an equal part in the act; equal shares in the profits, and then, when they could afford it, their own theatre company, Shakespeare, proper acting. So how come it was still her looking decorative and pretty, Bron taking all the credit, the gasps and plaudits from the crowd, as he performed yet another incredible trick? If she hadn’t been so damned in thrall to Bron …

They’d met as extras in rep, doing Shakespeare in dreary towns to uninterested punters. It had been a far cry from her drama school ambition to play Juliet at Stratford, and the only bright spot had been Bron, with his lean handsome look and sardonic manner. They had laughed their way through most of the misery of the tour, and he’d taught her card tricks and outlined his twin obsessions of magic and owning his own theatre company. When, after the tour was over, he rang her to say he and his friend Freddie had got a gig doing a magic show in Brighton, it had seemed like a lifeline. Regular money, regular work. After months of scrabbling to pay the rent, it was an easy option. It had always been meant to be temporary – Bron was never going to give up on his theatre plans, but as time went on, they seemed to recede into the distance. And now Tati often found herself wondering if he still wanted it as much as he said he did.

Tatiana formed a cupid’s bow, and painted her lips bright red in a fury. With her green and blue sparkly eye shadow, over-blushed cheeks, and the new haircut (which despite her best efforts didn’t look anything like the photo Julie had shown her), she looked like a painted doll. Which is all she was. Being pretty and decorative was all she was good for. Unless …

Unless she took the offer. She hadn’t been quite straight with Bron. It wasn’t just any old soap: she’d been offered the leading role in a new soap opera the Beeb had just commissioned. Susan thought she should; couldn’t understand her hesitation. ‘You don’t want to be doing this forever do you?’ she’d said with uncharacteristic honesty. Tatiana knew she was right. So why was she still hesitating? Misguided loyalty to Bron was what Susan had called it. But, Bron and her … a future without him was unthinkable, even after what had happened. She pulled on her spandex bodysuit, wincing as she realised how tight it was getting. She still hadn’t managed to shed all her excess weight. Even Bron had noticed and Freddie had made sarky comments too. All the time she was getting older and fatter and there were any amount of silly hens in this hen coop desperate to take her place.

So why don’t you let them?

As Tatiana stood waiting in the wings for the fanfare which heralded her arrival on stage, the thought came to her more strongly than ever. As she let Bron tie her up, throw knives at her, try to cut her in two, and pull hankies out of her ear, while she span and danced like a pretty doll around him, with the same fixed grin on her face, she felt her strongest urge yet to leave. What was there for her here now? She and Bron were growing apart, she could feel it. She knew Bron was hurting too, but what had happened was forming an insurmountable barrier between them. And Freddie was too much of an influence not to suggest she was replaced when she got too fat, too wrinkly, too old.

At the climax of Bron’s act, he produced doves out of a hat, which flew onto Tatiana. As she paraded round the stage (hating what she did with a passion) the bird that had landed on her head shat on her.

In that instant her decision was made. Susan was right. She could do much better than this.

‘Sorry babes, about Henrietta,’ Bron said as they came off the stage. Bron had the absurd habit of naming all his birds. ‘Hope your new hairdo can stand it.’ He laughed, and Freddie, who was standing with him, laughed too. Tati was enraged, it was as if their earlier conversation had never taken place.

‘My hair, yes,’ said Tatiana. ‘Me, no.’

‘Sorry?’ Bron looked confused.

‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘It’s the last straw. Tomorrow I sign up for Sail for the Sun. I’m going to be on the TV.’

‘What about the act?’ said Bron, aghast.

‘What about it?’ said Tatiana. ‘You don’t need me. You just need a pretty face. Well Auberon Fanshawe, I’m tired of being your Debbie McGee. I’m better than that.’

With that, she turned and left the theatre, without even taking her make-up off.

She’d done it. She was free. And a shining future beckoned.

Halloween

‘Combining your moving-in party with a Halloween one was a brilliant idea,’ declared Diana. She looked gorgeous as ever, in a little black dress which accentuated her curves, her auburn hair piled high on her head, with some fetching curls escaping, as she bustled round Josie’s kitchen. From the lounge – which they’d spent the afternoon decorating with wispy bits of cobweb, spiders dangling from the ceiling, flashing skull-shaped lights and pumpkin-shaped candles – came a loud set of expletives, as Harry tried to plug in various bits of electrical equipment to make a sound system any nightclub would have been proud of, but which Josie was somewhat doubtful was needed in a small London flat on a Saturday night.

‘I seem to remember it was more your idea,’ laughed Josie, as she got out plastic cups and put them on the kitchen drainer with the copious amounts of wine and beer that Harry had cheerily brought back from Sainsburys. ‘Josie, it’s so fab that you and Harry are moving in together, why don’t you have a party?’ she mimicked. ‘Josie, Halloween’s coming up, you can combine them, wouldn’t that be amazing!’

‘Well if I left it up to you, you’d have just snuck in here like a pair of sneak thieves, as if you were embarrassed about the whole thing, rather than celebrating the wonderfulness of you two becoming a proper partnership,’ declared Diana. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what you’d do without me.’

‘Er, get on with my life without being bossed about?’ said Josie, and ducked as Diana chucked some peanuts in her direction.

‘I can only hope Harry’s more domesticated than you are,’ said Diana. ‘I don’t know how you’ll manage to keep this place clean without my help.’

Until recently Diana had been renting Josie’s spare room, but when it became clear that Harry was becoming a permanent fixture, she’d tactfully moved out to live with friends down the road. ‘Three is definitely a crowd,’ she’d said, ‘and I don’t fancy being a gooseberry to you two lovebirds.’

‘I miss this,’ said Josie, ‘are you sure you’re okay about leaving?’

Di had been incredibly positive and supportive since Josie had first broached the awkward subject of Harry moving in, but Josie knew how good she was at covering up her emotions. Di didn’t have a huge social network, didn’t get on immensely well with her family, and for all her playing the ‘I love being single’ card, Josie had the sneaking suspicion that she was secretly yearning to settle down herself.

‘Of course I am,’ said Diana, ‘I mean, it is bloody annoying being best friends with someone as pretty, rich and successful as you are, who’s managed to nab a gorgeous man to boot, but I’ll survive.’

‘Oh, Diana, now I feel terrible,’ said Josie, giving her friend a hug.

‘It was a joke, Josie,’ said Diana affectionately. ‘You are so gullible.’

‘Still,’ said Josie wistfully, ‘it’s not going to be the same now, is it?’

Josie had met Di five years earlier, through a mutual friend, Carrie, who worked with Josie and had been to school with Di. They both quickly decided they didn’t like Carrie as much as they did each other. They’d started meeting once a week for drinks, and soon it had turned into regular weekends on the pull – Diana’s confidence taking Josie places she would never have been alone. Without Diana pushing her, Josie doubted she would have followed up Harry’s tentative calls when they’d first met up again. It was no good, happy as she was, Josie was going to miss sparky, lively Diana, who called a spade a spade and always let you know when you were in the wrong, but was also an incredibly loyal, fun friend.

‘No, it won’t,’ said Diana, ‘but it will be different. And that’s good too.’

She was being so positive about it, Josie hoped she wasn’t protesting too much.

‘And you really don’t mind?’

‘Don’t be daft, of course I don’t,’ said Diana, ‘I’m happy for you. You and Harry are made for each other. Now what else do we need to do? How’s the punch?’

Josie looked at the punch into which Harry had cheerfully flung a bottle of vodka, copious amounts of red wine, and not nearly enough orange juice, in Josie’s opinion. It seemed to be a bit lacking in the fruit department, and they’d run out of oranges. ‘What do you think about this punch? Does it need more fruit?’

‘Haven’t you got any more apples?’ said Diana. ‘It’s Halloween, you have to have apples. It’s the law.’

‘I think I might still have some left in the cupboard,’ said Josie.

She rummaged around, and then produced a couple of rather wrinkled-looking apples.

‘Great,’ said Diana, ‘here, let me peel them.’

‘Why?’ said Josie.

‘Because …’ said Diana. ‘It’s Halloween and you need to see the name of the man you’re going to marry … which will begin with H, obviously.’

Despite her straight talking and often cynical nature, Diana was extremely superstitious, always walking round a ladder, and freaking out if a black cat strolled across her path.

She grabbed one of the apples from Josie and peeled it with a flourish.

‘Now,’ she instructed, ‘you have to fling it over your shoulder, and it should fall in the shape of the letter that begins the name of your future husband.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Josie.

‘Famous Halloween tradition, young maids did it all the time in olden days, don’t you know anything?’ Diana was a force to be reckoned with so, feeling incredibly foolish, Josie threw the apple peel over her shoulder. It landed with a plop on the floor, and despite herself Josie turned round to see what the result was.

‘Knew it was stupid,’ she said, ‘look, it’s formed the letter A. I don’t know anyone whose name begins with A, apart from Harry’s mate Ant, and I’m hardly going to marry him.’

‘Oh,’ said Diana, looking a bit despondent. ‘I can’t believe it hasn’t worked.’

‘Come on, Di, you can’t believe all that mumbo jumbo,’ said Josie, laughing. She could never get over how gullible Di could be.

‘Well, you never know, Halloween is a strange time of year,’ said Diana. ‘I just think there are things out there we know nothing about.’

‘Go on then, you have a go,’ said Josie indulgently.

Diana peeled the other apple and with a great sense of drama, slowly threw it behind her shoulder. This time the apple peel landed with a more definite thud, and split into three pieces which, if you were being very imaginative, may just have formed the letter H.

‘Well that’s not right, either,’ said Diana, ‘the only H I know is Harry.’

‘There you go,’ said Josie, ‘I knew it was daft. Besides, I’m not marrying Harry just yet. Without your help I’d never have persuaded him to move in here. I might just get him convinced about marrying me in the next decade.’

‘Get me convinced of what?’ Harry came into the kitchen holding a pair of leads and looking a bit bemused. Josie’s heart did the little leap it always did when she saw him. Lovely dependable Harry, with his brilliant blue eyes, curly black hair and cute smile. It made her feel warm all over thinking they were now a proper item again. They had first met at university, although Josie might never have paid much attention to the quiet studious boy on her course if he hadn’t tagged along on a group weekend away at her parents’ home in Cornwall. When he was the only person who was prepared to go and watch Shakespeare with her on a rainy summer’s night at the local open air theatre she knew he was special. And for a while there it looked like they might go the distance, then time and space and work intervened and somehow they lost touch. It still seemed such luck not only to have met Harry again at Amy’s wedding, but for him to have still remembered, and (apparently) thought about her, just as she’d thought about him over the years. In one way their relationship had been a whirlwind, they’d only been ‘together’ properly for a few months, but in other ways it felt like she was coming home. Harry in her mind had always been the one who got away.

‘I think I’m going to have to head out to B&Q to find another lead,’ he said, ‘there’s a connection I’m missing.’

‘Nothing,’ said Josie, digging Diana in the ribs and glaring at her to stop her spilling the beans. But as usual it did no good.

‘Josie’s been doing an old Halloween trick of seeing the name of the man she’ll marry,’ said Diana. ‘She threw a piece of apple peel over her shoulder, and look, it fell down in the shape of the letter H. I wonder what that could mean?’

Josie felt herself blush deeply. Marriage was something she wanted with Harry, of course it was, but given how fast they’d moved so far, she thought marriage might be rushing things a bit. She wanted him to ask her in his own way, at the right time.

Harry peered at the floor, ‘Are you sure that’s an H?’ he said. ‘What about that one?’

‘Oh, that was my turn,’ lied Diana glibly. ‘I got an A.’

‘Ah, shame Ant’s still in Oz, otherwise I’d introduce you,’ said Harry with a grin.

‘Ant? You want to inflict Ant on my best friend?’ said Josie as she swept the peel away. ‘It’s all foolish nonsense anyway. As if an apple peel can tell you who you’re going to marry.’

‘As if indeed,’ said Harry, but he looked thoughtful as he picked up the car keys and left the room.

‘There, he’s going to ask you now,’ Diana teased her, ‘sure as eggs is eggs. Did you see the look on his face?’

‘Don’t you ever stop interfering?’ said Josie, blushing. ‘He’ll ask me if and when he’s good and ready.’

‘Well, there’s no harm in pushing him along a bit,’ said Diana. ‘You know you two are made for each other. You just need a little help from Cupid’s arrow, that’s all.’

‘What was all that about?’ Harry muttered to himself as he got in the car and drove the short distance to B&Q. One of the most restful things about being with Josie was that she had never ever mentioned the ‘M’ word. Not that Harry was against the idea, but things had already moved faster then he’d anticipated, and he wasn’t in a hurry to get married. Indeed, his best friend, Ant, had laughed like a drain when he found out that Harry was even contemplating moving in with Josie.

‘You are joking?’ he’d said over the phone, when Harry had tracked him down to a bar in Australia to tell him the good news. ‘Before you know it, you’ll have his ‘n’ hers slippers and she’ll be walking you down the aisle. And then it will be only a matter of time before she starts mentioning babies, and your life will effectively be over. Don’t do it, mate. You’ll really live to regret it.’

Knowing that he really wouldn’t regret it, or at least regret taking the first step of sharing a home with Josie, allowed Harry to pass off Ant’s teasing in a good-humoured fashion. ‘You’re only saying that because you’re a jealous saddo who doesn’t have a clue how to attract, let alone keep a beautiful woman,’ he joshed back. ‘Women, beware, Ant’s here.’

Ant had always had plenty of women, but no one serious, apart from one mysterious relationship after uni, which he rarely mentioned, but had clearly left a scar.

‘Your funeral, mate,’ said Ant. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Ant, who was currently taking the gap year he’d been threatening ever since before he and Harry had been students, had sent him a very rude Facebook message when he found out that Harry actually had gone the whole hog and was going ‘all domesticated’, as he put it.

Harry didn’t happen to think Ant was right. Sure, when they were young guns straight out of college there had been a certain cachet in seeing who got the most women – getting any women at all had been Harry’s main aim when he’d arrived at university, in the autumn of the millennium – but once Harry met Josie again at a mutual friend’s wedding, nights on the pull had definitely lost their charm. It hadn’t taken long for Harry to realise he’d fallen swiftly, deeply, irrevocably in love. He and Josie had got together at the end of university, and he’d always regretted letting her get away. He’d never been quite sure how it had happened, but he and Josie had been together such a briefly short time, and once they went to work – him to a small local newspaper in Newcastle, her to be a marketing assistant in a factory in Swindon – things had fizzled out. He had always thought he should have fought harder to keep her. So now they had found each other again, nothing was going to keep them apart. However much Ant might bitch about it, no amount of teasing would change his mind.

But … marriage? Harry thought about it as he scanned the electrical shelves in B&Q for the right scart lead, wishing, not for the first time, that manufacturers would just make a universal lead which adapted to fit every bit of electronic equipment it seemed necessary for a modern man to have in his possession. Were he and Josie ready for that? He had to admit to a certain amount of relief and pleasure when they’d made the decision to move in together. No longer the need to be out there in the savage forest of dating; time to hang up his spurs, sit by the fire, and sip wine with his one true love. Simples, as the meerkats would say, but true.

Eventually buying two leads, certain that one of them would fit, Harry made his way back home, where he found Josie and Diana already giggly, having tried out his punch to ‘see that it was strong enough’, according to Diana, although Josie was worried it had too much vodka. ‘Nonsense!’ said Diana, ‘you can never have too much vodka!’ and promptly poured the remaining half of the bottle Harry had resisted pouring in before. Diana was a whirlwind. One he quite liked, he thought, but so different from Josie, Harry sometimes wondered how they could be friends. She was vivacious, lively, pretty and incredibly flirty: like a female version of Ant, a good-time girl out on the pull. She often gave off a tough vibe, but underneath it all Harry suspected she hid a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared to let most people see. And she liked him and seemed genuinely happy for them both. Harry had a huge soft spot for her.

Josie poured some more orange juice into the punch, while Diana answered the door to their first guests. Once Harry had sorted out the music, the next few hours went by in a blur of congratulations, drinking and laughter. By midnight, Harry was feeling distinctly the worse for wear, and sitting happily ensconced on the sofa, watching Josie dance to the dulcet tones of Lady Gaga. He could sit and watch her dance for hours, she moved so gracefully, it was mesmerising. He was so lucky to have her. Josie was so beautiful, and kind, and wonderful. And she was his … sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it.

Maybe it was time to make things more permanent between them.

Someone had put something slower on, and a few of their friends were cosying up together – Diana, he noticed with amusement, was smooching with Josie’s boss – ‘Come on, lover boy,’ Josie came swaying towards him, as drunk, he realised, as he was, ‘time to dance.’

‘Always time to dance with you,’ he smiled, and pulled her close. She leant against his shoulder, and he felt her softness, and smelt her perfume. He was suddenly overcome with a dizzying sense of what could only be described as joy. He wanted to hold her and keep her and never let her go. ‘You are so perfect,’ he said, kissing her softly on the lips, ‘how did I get this lucky?’

Josie blushed, and said, ‘I’m the lucky one,’ as she kissed him back, and he was overcome with a happiness he could never remember feeling before. With her small trim figure, her gorgeous fair pre-Raphaelite curls, and her stunning blue eyes, Josie was perfect in every way. She was kind, sweet, funny, loyal and he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. So why not make it formal? What was wrong with marriage, after all? A perfectly sensible institution which had been round for centuries.

‘Josie,’ he said, feeling his heart hammering with happiness, ‘will you marry me?’

‘Oh my God, Oh my God!’ An overexcited and slightly pissed Josie dragged Diana away from a rather interesting situation with Josie’s to-die-for good-looking boss, Philip (trust Josie to nab a lovely guy and have a good-looking boss) into the kitchen. ‘It worked, I can’t believe it, but it worked.’

‘What worked?’ Josie wasn’t the only one who’d drunk too much, Diana realised, as the walls came crashing in on her suddenly. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your Halloween thing,’ said Josie, ‘you know, the apple peel.’

Diana dragged herself away from the delicious prospect of a night in a penthouse with Philip, to focus on a faint memory of the early evening. ‘But you got an A!’

‘No I didn’t,’ said Josie, ‘I got an H, remember? Ta-da!’

She waved her ring finger in front of Diana’s bleary eyes. There was a platinum-looking ring on it.

‘What? He didn’t?’

‘Yup, Harry just proposed!’ said Josie triumphantly. ‘Of course we need to get a proper ring, but this will do for now.’

On closer inspection, Diana realised Josie was wearing the ring pull from a Coke can on her finger.

‘That’s, that’s – words fail me,’ Diana suddenly felt the urgent need to sit down, and slumped against the wall and slid down it. She wanted to say something more effusive, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.

‘I know,’ said Josie, sliding down to join her, ‘and it’s all down to you. You are going to be my bridesmaid, aren’t you?’

Diana screamed in delight.

‘You’re getting married!’ she whooped, ‘and I’m going to be bridesmaid. That is fabulous!’ Fabulous. That was the word she’d been searching for.

‘I know!’ said Josie, ‘isn’t it great?’

Diana suddenly felt a sudden, sober chill. It was great, of course it was great, but drunken misery set in, ‘What about u-u-uss?’ she wailed. ‘You’re going off to get married and you’ll be shacked up and happy and I’ll be on my own and single for ever!’

Great sloppy tears were running down her cheeks. Damn, that punch had been a serious mistake.

‘Oh, Di, don’t say that,’ said Josie, clutching her in panic, ‘you’re my best friend, I couldn’t live without you.’

She was crying too.

‘You couldn’t?’ Diana paused and blew her nose, not very attractively. She hoped Philip didn’t choose that particular moment to look for her.

‘Of course not,’ said Josie, sobbing nearly as loudly as Di was, ‘you’re always going to be my best friend. What would I do without you?’

‘But it’s not going to be the sa-aa-me,’ hiccoughed Diana.

‘It will, it will,’ said Josie, ‘pinkie promise.’

She linked her little finger in Diana’s, setting off a fresh round of wailing, ‘Oh, that’s so lovely,’ she wept, ‘I love you so much.’

‘And I love you too,’ howled Josie, hugging her tightly.

‘But you love Harry more,’ said Diana.

‘I do,’ said Josie, her eyes shining through her tears, ‘I really do.’

Diana looked around her, suddenly surprised that they were sitting on the floor.

‘Then what are we doing sitting here?’ she said. ‘You’re getting married. That is so fantastic. C’me on, let’s dance!’

She staggered up, dragging Josie after her, and went to find Harry who was sitting looking slightly dazed in the corner, ‘Woohoo, you two getting married, that is so brilliant! Listen up, everyone, Harry and Josie have just got engaged!’

‘This calls for champagne!’ someone shouted.

‘We don’t have any,’ laughed Josie, ‘we’ll have to make do with vodka.’

‘Vodka it is!’ said Diana. She busied herself filling people’s glasses, and then declared a toast, ‘To Harry and Josie!’ she said. ‘Harry and Josie!’ everyone said, raising their glasses and cheering, and the next half hour disappeared in a flurry of congratulations and back slapping. It was only as the party began to die to down that Diana remembered Philip. She looked round for him and couldn’t see him anywhere. Sneaky bastard. A bleep from her phone confirmed it. Sorry, had to dash. Catch you soon? This year, next year, sometime, never. She looked over at Josie caught in a romantic clinch with her future husband, and tried not to feel that she was getting left behind.

In a bar in Australia, Anthony Lambert, known to his friends as Ant, opened his laptop and checked his emails. He’d sent a rude message to his best friend, Harry, the previous day in response to the dire (in Ant’s mind at least) news that he was settling down and moving in with his girlfriend, Josie, after a ridiculously whirlwind romance lasting a few short months. Ant had been horrified, not least because at twenty-eight the notion of settling down seemed as far removed as it had when he’d first met Harry at uni ten years ago, but also because Harry had already dated Josie back then, and they’d lost touch. If she was so great, why hadn’t they stuck together before? Hmm? Ant’s motto was always look forward, never look back. He felt sure that Harry was making a big mistake, and had told him so in so many words. Well. Very few words actually. It had been more along the lines of What are you doing you stupid bastard? I thought Josie was all in the past?

It seemed Harry had been remarkably swift in his reply. Their correspondence while Ant had been away had been in the main, short and sweet, and they’d often been known to go weeks without hearing from one another. It was only the imperative need to tell his best friend not make a complete dickhead of himself which had impelled Ant to write yesterday.

From: Harry@gmail.com

To: Antonhistravels@gmail.com

Hi mate,

1 I hope you’re sitting down …

2 And I hope you are in a bar …

3 And I also hope you have a drink in your hand …

What the …? Ant had a sip of his beer, and scrolled down to the bottom of the email where he read words which caused him to nearly spill his drink. He had to reread in case he’d got it wrong, but no, there it was in black and white.

I know you’re not going to like this, mate, but it’s my life.

So … the big news is Josie and I are getting married. Next year, September, we think.

I know, I know. It’s sudden. And I’m going to have to put off travelling for a bit. But … I let her get away once. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Try to be happy for us.

Harry.

P.S. We’d like you to be best man.

Best man. Harry wanted him to be best man? Could it get any worse?

‘Fuck me sideways,’ said Ant out loud. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’

Part One
There May I Marry Thee

‘Four days will quickly steep themselves in night

Four nights will quickly dream away the time …’

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Act I, Scene 1

‘Magic tricks are all about dissembling. Distract the punter with your voice, or a bit of stage business, and they miss the actual trick itself. It’s easy when you know how.’

Freddie Puck: The Art of Illusion

Chapter One

‘Is that the lot?’ said Harry as he paused to take a breather. Though early in the morning, the June sun was already hot and he was already working up a sweat. He looked on in horror as Josie, still somehow looking cool and collected in a strappy summer dress and sandals, came down the flat steps, with the second large holdall she had apparently packed for a simple weekend away. ‘How long are we planning to be away again?’

‘This one isn’t mine, it’s Di’s,’ said Josie. Di had come to stay the night before, terrified of oversleeping on her own. ‘And before you start bitching about how Diana always takes advantage of me, she’s bringing her bigger one.’

‘She’s got a bigger bag than this?’ Harry said as he took the bag from Josie, and tried to squeeze a space for it in the not-too-huge boot of his Honda Civic. A car that, not unnaturally, Ant had sneered at very loudly, as being ‘a girl’s car.’ Sometimes Harry wished Ant would keep his opinions to himself. But there was no chance of that. Ant, back from his travels, was louder and more opinionated than ever since his time away. It hadn’t taken him long to be employed by a flash advertising company (‘Recession, what recession?’ he’d queried) with more cash than sense and was driving down alone in his brand new top of the range Merc. He was planning to meet them at a motorway service station en route, as, hilariously for Ant who was always overconfident, he appeared to have had an attack of nerves at the thought of arriving before them and meeting Josie’s parents on his own.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit this all in,’ said Harry, looking despairing as Diana, her ginger curls escaping from a straggly bun, tottered down the steps in high wedges, skinny jeans which accentuated every curve and a skimpy top which left nothing to the imagination, dragging an even bigger and more cumbersome bag behind her.

‘Di, you’re going to have to have your bag in the back with you,’ said Josie when she realised that there really was no more room in the boot. ‘Either that, or we’ll ring Ant up to see if he can take you in his car.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ said Diana as she squashed herself into the back, complete with the offending bag. ‘Ant’s an unusual name.’

‘It’s short for Anthony,’ said Harry, ‘though sometimes he goes by the name of Tony.’

‘I knew a Tony once, he was a total wanker. What’s yours like?’

‘A total wanker,’ said Josie, and Harry dug her in the ribs. ‘Well, he is,’ she protested, ‘as far as women are concerned. He’s charming and witty and funny of course, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.’

‘He’s not that bad,’ protested Harry half-heartedly as he started up the car.

‘He so is,’ said Josie. ‘Don’t you remember Suzie at uni? Poor cow was so in love with Ant, and I lost count of the number of girls he cheated on her with. And still she came back for more.’

‘I’d forgotten about her,’ said Harry.

‘Then there was the time we were out for my birthday and he started the evening with one girl and went home with another.’

‘Oh, God, and the time we met him at the cinema and he pretended not to see us because he was with the wife of the local landlord,’ said Harry. ‘I’d forgotten all that. But you never know. Maybe he’s changed since he’s been away.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Josie. ‘He hasn’t stopped sulking since you asked him to be best man. Anyone would think you were committing suicide the way he goes on about the fact that you’re getting married.’

‘Well, to Ant, marriage is a form of suicide,’ said Harry, as he turned left out of their road and headed for the main road which led to the motorway. ‘I can’t see him ever getting hitched. He’ll be trying to pull birds when he’s old and grey.’

‘Birds,’ groaned Diana. ‘Does he really use the word birds?’

‘Afraid so,’ said Josie, ‘but it’s all right, he doesn’t bite, honest.’

‘To be fair to him,’ said Harry, ‘I think there was someone after uni he was quite serious about, and she ditched him. He’s always been really cagey about it, but I think she really hurt him.’

‘Well then, maybe it’s time he got over it,’ said Diana.

‘Perhaps you can help,’ said Josie slyly.

‘Don’t look at me,’ said Di firmly, ‘he really doesn’t sound like my type.’

Within half an hour they were on the motorway and heading down to Cornwall, to Josie’s parents, where Josie’s mum was indulging in a spot of pre-wedding hysteria. After much dithering, Harry and Josie had only recently fixed the date for next June. They’d talked vaguely about September when they first got engaged, but it turned out getting married was like planning a military operation and no one in their right minds would attempt to organise a wedding in such a short space of time. Harry, who’d been hoping for something small and quiet, was beginning to realise his wishes were unlikely to be met. Josie’s mum, Nicola, had firmly taken charge since Christmas, and now most of their spare time seemed to be taken up with wedding plans. Harry was beginning to find it a little wearing.

Nicola had insisted on having a long weekend with Josie, Harry, the best man (Ant, naturally) and bridesmaid (Diana, of course), to plan things. Quite why he and Ant were needed was a mystery to Harry. So far his input into preparations was to have been told things, like what he had to wear (morning suit, top hat, and pink ties – Josie was very insistent on the pink) – who he was inviting (‘we get twenty-five friends each and twenty-five family, or in my case, forty family and twenty friends, as I have more family’), and where the event was going to take place (‘St Cuthbert’s of course,’ Josie’s mum opined, ‘it’s where we got married, and Josie was christened, and Reverend Paul has known her since she was little, so it’s perfect’).

Just recently, the tone of the long phone conversations Josie was having with her mum seemed to have ratcheted up a notch. Having read in a magazine that it was all the rage to have live entertainment in the evening, Josie had got a bee in her bonnet about having not only fireworks, but possibly hiring jugglers and magicians for the night. Harry’s protests about the money had been ignored – he was beginning to appreciate his fiancée had a steely side of which he’d been hitherto unaware – ‘Dad won’t mind,’ Josie had assured him, which was true. Josie’s dad Peter doted on his daughter and would spend any amount of money to keep her happy.

But Harry minded. Peter was always polite to him, but he had the distinct impression that his future father-in-law was disappointed that his daughter had come home not with a City magnate, but a lowly paid journalist without much ambition. Harry would much rather have had a smaller affair, to which he and Josie could contribute financially, without him feeling so indebted to Josie’s parents. Harry still felt his career had time to get going. He’d always wanted to get into travel journalism, and had been planning to join Ant out in Australia when he met up with Josie again. Since then, everything had happened so fast that Harry had laid aside his ambitions to see something of the world. And when he’d tried to talk about it to Josie, she’d laughed and said, ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ But the further the wedding preparations went on, the more he could feel that particular ambition receding, particularly as he had the sneaking suspicion that Nicola was already laying plans for them to move down to the neighbouring village as soon as they were able. She was a very forceful woman, and sometimes, he worried what Josie might be like in middle age – whether behind that mild-mannered image was a female tiger, just waiting to pounce on him. Harry sighed; he was beginning to wonder if he’d rushed into this marriage thing. He felt he was on a roller coaster and couldn’t get off.

‘Why the heavy sigh?’ said Josie. ‘Is anything wrong?’

The lightness of her touch on his arm, and her quick and ready sympathy were enough to bring him to his senses. He was marrying Josie, who was gorgeous, and everything he wanted in a woman. Of course it would be all right.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all. In fact, nothing could be more right.’

Diana was regretting the amount of packing she’d done for a weekend away. But she was nervous. She’d only met Josie’s parents once or twice when they’d come up to London to see Josie and they were so posh, they’d turned her into a gibbering wreck. She wasn’t often ashamed of her council house upbringing, but a few days with Josie’s mum and dad had managed to make her feel inadequate. Josie hid her privileged upbringing well, and because she was so kind, went out of her way to put people at ease, so most people who met her in London would have had no idea of the luxury awaiting her at home. Of course, she took that for granted too, and was often puzzled when Diana mentioned that she couldn’t afford something, giving a delicate little frown and a perplexed smile. With anyone else, Diana might have felt envious, particularly since she’d bagged such a great prize in Harry, but Josie was such a joy to be around, envy just seemed like the wrong emotion.

Harry was the kind of man any girl would be happy to have. Lovely, solid dependable Harry – a bit dull maybe for her tastes, but Diana had a soft spot for him. He was always kind and welcoming to her; she could do worse than have a Harry of her own. But men like Harry never came Diana’s way, which was partly her own fault of course. Diana had had to fight to get where she was – opposing her parents’ plans for her to go into law, to take advantage of the opportunities they never had, and choosing travel as a career instead (and the way that was going at the moment, she was going to have to admit to her dad soon it might have been a big mistake) – and learning the hard way that people let you down, especially in love. Josie had never had those kinds of experiences. Things had a habit of going her way, and sometimes that was an annoying trait in a best friend. But Josie was the kind of person it was impossible not to love, so Diana put such thoughts behind her as unworthy. She was the unkind one, Josie was not, and didn’t deserve anyone to be bitter and nasty about her.

‘So where are we meeting this friend of yours?’ Diana said, from her uncomfortable position in the back of the car, squashed up as she was against her big suitcase. She knew taking it had been a mistake, but she’d wanted to make sure she had something to wear for any occasion.

‘There’s a service station not far from Honiton,’ said Josie, ‘we thought we’d catch up with him there.’

‘And how soon will we be there?’ said Diana, looking at her watch. They seemed to have been in the car for hours, and she felt hot, cramped and awkward. Diana didn’t drive herself. Although she’d miraculously passed her test, after having a car in the first few months she’d lived in London she’d decided the stress of driving the mean city streets was far too much to be going along with. Besides, after three prangs in as many weeks, she couldn’t afford the insurance any more. As a result, most of her travelling was done by train, and she really hadn’t a clue how long this journey would take.

‘Not for another half an hour at least,’ said Josie. ‘Honestly, it’s like having a small child in the back. That’s the fourth time you’ve asked since we set off.’

‘Well, you two are like my surrogate mum and dad,’ grinned Diana. ‘Okay, I’m going to have a kip. Wake me when we get there.’

Josie was a bundle of nerves. It was only the second time she and Harry had visited her parents since their engagement, and this time she was bringing Diana and Ant. Her mother could be a terrible snob, and Josie knew that while she was too polite to say so, she thoroughly disapproved of Diana, whom she thought rather common. What she was going to make of Ant, the Lord only knew. Josie just hoped he could manage to keep his mouth shut and behave himself. Knowing Ant, that was highly unlikely.

She was also nervous about how Harry was going to get on with her parents. They seemed to like him, but she suspected they were slightly disappointed in her choice. They’d wanted her to marry someone in the City, not an impoverished journalist – her dad’s clumsy jokes about them starving in garrets making it clear what he really thought. It didn’t matter either that Josie had a good career in marketing and was earning enough for both of them, and that more importantly she loved Harry to pieces and had never been happier than the last few months when they’d been living together; her parents were desperately old-fashioned about life. As soon as Josie was married, she would be expected to stay at home and raise a family, which was why marrying someone rich was so important.

They couldn’t see that that was what appealed to Josie about Harry. That he wasn’t rich, didn’t set much store by all of that. He was kind and compassionate, and the loveliest person Josie knew. They’d originally met and had a brief fling on their English course at university years before, but the physical distance between them afterwards had meant they’d drifted away from one another. Meeting Harry again at Amy’s wedding, after years of dating unsuitable and complicated men and seeing how straightforward and uncomplicated he was, had made him instantly attractive. The fact that he didn’t earn much money didn’t matter. She earned enough for the pair of them.

It was a pity Mum and Dad didn’t see it like that. No doubt Dad at least, would be more impressed with Ant. He had the flash job and car, and was annoyingly good at charming the birds off the trees. Josie hoped Dad wouldn’t compare Harry unfavourably to his friend.

‘You all right, hon?’ she said to Harry, squeezing his knee hard. He was very quiet, and she had a feeling he was even more nervous than she was. It was going to be a long weekend.

‘Yeah, fine,’ he said. ‘Just hope I can get through the weekend without making too much of an idiot of myself.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Josie assured him, ‘Mum and Dad love you.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back while she said this. Perhaps if she wanted it to be true enough, it would be …

She looked at her watch, they’d been on the road for nearly three hours and they weren’t too far from Honiton now. Josie turned back to Diana who was snoring in the back.

‘Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead. We’re nearly there. Time to meet up with the man of your dreams.’

‘Wha-a?’ Diana jerked herself awake.

‘Just saying, we’re nearly at Honiton. And finally you get to meet Ant. It could be a match made in heaven.’

‘From everything you’ve said, I doubt it,’ snorted Diana.

‘You never know,’ said Josie, ‘he might surprise you.’

‘Hmm, we’ll see,’ said Diana, but Josie was amused to see she’d got out her compact and was anxiously checking to see her make-up hadn’t smudged.

‘The best man and bridesmaid have to get together,’ declared Josie. ‘It’s the law.’

‘In your dreams, pal,’ said Diana, chucking an empty crisp packet at her friend. ‘I’m happily single, and however good-looking the best man is, that’s how I plan to stay.’

Ant sat leaning on his convertible, sipping a coffee, and smoking a cigarette. The sun was very bright and the sky a clear blue, so the sunglasses he had put on, part affectation, part a means of deflecting the hangover from the night before, had turned out useful. His head was pounding and he could have done with a couple of hours more kip. God, he wished he hadn’t been persuaded to go to Cornwall for the weekend to meet Harry’s new in-laws. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d even agreed to do it, but Harry was his best mate. And despite being certain that he was making a huge mistake, Ant felt duty bound to support him, and even he had to concede, certain as he was that it would all go pearshaped, Josie was pretty gorgeous and a lovely person to boot. If Harry hadn’t got in there first … In fact, thinking about it, how had Harry got in there first? From memory it was Ant who had introduced them at some party or other. And then she’d invited them all down to her place one summer. Ant felt sure he’d gone down with the express intention of nabbing Josie, but it hadn’t happened. Unbelievable that Josie could have possibly chosen dull old Harry over him.

He looked at his watch. Harry had thought they’d be arriving around midday, but there was no sign of them, yet. Ant had been at a sales conference in Salisbury (hence the hangover) and come straight on from there. He checked his BlackBerry and dealt with a few outstanding work issues, before ringing up Harry to see where he’d got to.

‘Harry, where are you, mate? I’m feeling like a right idiot standing here in this car park on my own.’

‘It’s Josie,’ said a crisp clear voice on the other end. Josie’s voice sparkled like a babbling brook, he’d forgotten what a lovely sound it was. ‘And we’ll be with you in about five minutes. Don’t be so impatient.’

Delicious. Josie even sounded lovely when she was telling him off. Harry was a lucky man. No doubt about that.

Five minutes later, true to Josie’s word, Harry’s poxy little Honda Civic drove into the car park. It really was a girl’s car.

Putting out his cigarette, Ant unrolled himself from his position and strode over to say hello.

‘Harry, great to see you, mate!’ he said giving him a thump on the back and feeling absurdly affectionate towards his oldest friend.

‘You, too!’ said Harry punching him in the ribs.

‘Josie, you look lovely as ever,’ he said, giving her a hug and a huge kiss on the lips.

‘Flatterer,’ said Josie, neatly escaping from his grasp.

‘And who have we here?’ Ant noted with pleasure a very fetching pair of legs encased in a pair of skinny jeans, emerging from the back of the Civic.

‘Ant, meet my friend, Diana,’ said Josie with a smile. ‘Diana, this is Ant.’

Ant nearly dropped his coffee in shock, as he followed the legs up (via the jeans and busty top) to a ginger (she said auburn) head of hair and pretty face, with those emerald-green eyes he remembered with clarity even though they’d last met eight years ago.

‘You!’ they said simultaneously.

Chapter Two

Diana was shaking as she got back into the car. She’d have recognised him anywhere, the arrogant tilt of his chin, the fair hair swept back off his face, revealing deep brown eyes that had once been tender, but then cruel. Teflon Tone? Harry’s mysterious best friend Ant and best-man-to-be. Teflon Tone? How could they be the same person? How was that even possible? Since Josie and Harry had been together, Ant had been mentioned frequently, but he had only recently returned from his travels. Of late, she’d seen less of Josie then she would have liked, so she’d been aware that Ant was back on the scene, but had never met him. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Teflon Tone. The guy who’d ruined her life. And she had to spend a whole weekend with him.

‘So what’s the deal with you and Ant, then?’ Josie turned round in the car to face her friend. ‘How do you know each other?’

‘We don’t,’ mumbled Diana. ‘Not anymore.’

‘Come on,’ teased Josie, ‘I saw that reaction. There must be a story there.’

‘Well, there isn’t,’ said Diana shortly. ‘Can we just drop it now, please.’

‘Oh,’ said Josie, in surprise. ‘Okay.’

She settled back into the front and started making small talk with Harry, while Diana stared out of the window and remembered …

She’d been twenty-two when she met Tony eight years earlier, and happily whiling away a winter working as a chalet rep in Switzerland. At a loose end after university, Ant had taken a temporary job working for her firm, while he worked out what to do with his life. She’d noticed him the first time he’d walked into the bar, it was impossible not to: good-looking, tall, fair, charming as he was. Her instant reaction had been that he wasn’t for her, particularly as he seemed such a flirt, but there’d been something about him from the start. And then she’d fallen in so deep, she couldn’t get out easily, and it was too late to escape the broken heart that had ensued. Eight years she’d spent trying to forget him. Eight years, and now she had to spend the whole weekend with him.

Diana sighed. That was the past, this was the present. She was here for Josie and Harry, she’d just have to try and ignore Tony/Ant/whatever his name was. Because this was Josie and Harry’s weekend and she didn’t want to ruin it for them.

Diana had envied their relationship from the start. A couple truly suited to one another, truly at ease, truly in love. She could never imagine that happening to her. She was far too difficult and spiky, as all the boyfriends she’d ever had had told her. There were reasons for that of course. Having once given her heart irrevocably, and been hurt so badly she thought she might never recover, Diana had sworn never to let herself be so vulnerable again. So she cultivated her tough exterior, sought out short-term relationships she knew would go nowhere, and resolved to stay single and in control for the rest of her life.

Which was all very well, but the downside was she was sometimes lonely. A fact she barely ever admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. Particularly since Josie and Harry had been living together. Diana had little in common with her new flatmates, who were friends of friends, and when not working late, spent most evenings alone watching crap TV. Recently the offers from men seemed to be less forthcoming than in the past. Josie had once told her that she scared them off. The trouble with cultivating an image of invulnerability of course, meaning that people thought it was true. If only they knew …

Diana wished in a way she could be more like Josie, who was most definitely not spiky. Everyone loved Josie. It was impossible not to. Josie was kind and open and friendly, all the things Diana found it hard to be. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends, but people didn’t love her the way they loved Josie. Not at work, where her ambitious nature had given her a reputation for ruthlessness, nor in her social life, where she’d ended up dropping most of her girlfriends once they were shacked up. Apart from Josie. But that was because Josie was exceptionally kind. As was Harry. Diana felt sure he didn’t quite get his fiancée’s sarcastic; difficult friend, and put up with her for Josie’s sake.

While Josie, Josie was kind and tolerant of their differences. And one of her special gifts was bringing people together in difficult social situations. When she realised the extent to which her best friend and Harry’s actually did know each other, she’d talked of other things, and Tone had followed Di’s line of we’ve met but we barely know each other with barely concealed relief.

Another memory resurfaced, searing Diana with a pain she’d forgotten she was capable of. Tone promising her the earth then abandoning her in her hour of need. No one had ever let her down that badly, and she’d sworn never would again.

Oh, God. Teflon Tone. Best Man. And she was Chief Bridesmaid. This was going to end up being the wedding from hell.

Ant sped along the motorway in a state of – what? Fury? That wasn’t quite the word. But agitation, certainly. Bloody hell. Fancy quiet little Josie having made friends with Dynamite Di. How the hell had that happened? How the hell had he not known? He’d only been out of the country for two years, and it seemed like everything had turned upside down in his absence. Bad enough that Harry had had to go sentimental on him, and decided to get married. But to have Dynamite Di as a bridesmaid? That was adding insult to injury. And he had to spend a weekend with her, being polite? Bloody Hell. Bloody Bloody Hell.

Mind you, there had been a time when he couldn’t get enough of her. Diana still remained one of the sexiest women he’d ever encountered, and he’d fallen for her in a way he’d never fallen for anyone before or since. But then it had disintegrated into a mess of bitterness and accusation. And the last time they’d met, she’d unceremoniously tipped a pint of beer over his head and called him a bastard of the finest order, in front of everyone they knew. He found out why much too late, and by then she wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t hear his side of the story. Ant couldn’t bear to admit to anyone how heartbroken he’d been about everything that had happened – only briefly telling Harry the details – so he’d buried those feelings deep, and sworn never to let a woman get that close again. He’d certainly never imagined meeting Diana again. And now here she was, larger than life, looking just as gorgeous as ever. And they had a whole weekend to get through.

He’d been thinking about it so much, Ant nearly missed the turning to Tresgothen, the village where Josie’s parents lived. He vaguely remembered the pretty little lane, with high hedges and scary bends, as he drove down it. Some time ago – a lifetime it seemed now – when they were still students, Josie had invited them all down here for a long weekend, and they’d had a fine boozy time of it, as he recalled. Josie’s parents had been away so they had the place to themselves, which at the time had been amazing. Josie’s parents were hugely wealthy and their house had been the height of luxury, even then. He’d brought a girl – he couldn’t remember who now – Kim? Kelly? He could barely recall her, but had vague and rather erotic memories of skinny dipping with her at midnight.

The place was bigger than he remembered: a beautiful oak-beamed house on three floors with pitched roofs and ivy growing up the side. To be this rich, Ant thought, as the car crunched across the enormous gravel drive, that really would be something. Josie, Harry and Diana were already getting out of Harry’s car, to be greeted by Josie’s mum, a tiny, older version of Josie, dressed in a cream linen dress and flat sandals.

‘Welcome, welcome,’ she said. ‘I see you’ve brought the lovely weather with you. I’ve put you in the annexe, as I thought you’d be more comfortable there.’

The annexe? Ant followed them in awe, for once silenced. The house had six bedrooms as he recalled it, and now they’d built an annexe? Maybe Harry had a point about this getting married lark. As an only child, Josie presumably stood to inherit the lot.

‘The annexe is for our guests,’ Josie’s mum was saying cheerfully, as she took them into the enormous hall, which had expensive looking rugs on the parquet flooring and a wide-panelled oak staircase. It was light and airy, a welcoming, rather than an intimidating space, the kind of hall Ant would like to have some day. ‘It’s so much nicer for people to have their privacy.’

Of course, thought Ant. The way she said it, was like this was normal. Ant immediately decided whatever else he did with his life, he wanted to end up with a property portfolio like Josie’s parents.

‘More like for Dad to have his,’ laughed Josie.

‘Did someone take my name in vain?’

Josie’s dad, an ambling six-foot academic-looking type, wandered in from an enormous room on the side, which looked like a lounge.

‘Dad!’ Josie shrieked and threw her arms around him.

‘Lovely to see you too, darling. Harry, good to see you again.’

He shook hands with Harry, who looked unaccountably nervous. Ant dimly recalled Harry saying how terrifying he found his future father-in-law.

‘Diana, always a pleasure,’ he continued, ‘and you must be the elusive Ant. Peter Hampton at your service.’ He looked him up and down appraisingly, with sharp blue eyes, which reminded him suddenly of Josie. For an instant, Ant felt sorry for Harry; great to be marrying into the money certainly, but despite the scatty professor persona Ant had a feeling Peter was a hard man to impress.

‘At your service,’ said Ant, then felt ridiculous. What a stupid thing to have said.

‘Are we eating outside, darling?’ said Peter, ‘as it’s such a beautiful day?’

‘I thought we would,’ said Nicola. ‘We don’t often get the opportunity, and it’s so lovely that you could all be here.’

She beamed cheerfully at them, and Ant tried to smile back, but suddenly he felt quite claustrophobic. He wasn’t good at families, this felt all too domestic and cosy for him. Surely it was time for the pub soon? Otherwise it was going to be a very long weekend …

‘You know there’s a local plan to revive the theatre, don’t you?’ Nicola said, ushering Harry and Josie straight into the dining room as soon as they’d deposited their bags, while she left Peter sorting out drinks for Ant and Diana on the patio. Harry looked after them longingly, even more so when he saw to his horror a huge array of wedding catalogues lying open on the magnificent mahogany dining table.

‘I hadn’t, no,’ said Josie.

‘Well, they might be hiring it out for weddings,’ said Nicola.

Hang on a minute. Harry was confused. The last conversation they’d had, Nicola had been insisting on a church wedding.

‘That would be awesome!’ said Josie, ‘could we get a marquee up there?’

‘Well, I’ve been looking into it,’ Nicola said. ‘It’s worth a thought.’

‘Don’t you think it would be nicer to have a marquee at home?’ asked Harry, but he knew the answer straight away.

‘No!’ Josie and Nicola said simultaneously.

‘I think it would be amazing to have our wedding on the cliff edge looking out to sea,’ said Josie. ‘It would be different, stand out; be a wedding like no other. No one would ever forget it.’

Why did their wedding have to stand out? Harry wondered. He didn’t care if anyone else forgot it, he knew he never would.

‘And what about getting married in St Cuthbert’s?’ he continued, though he knew it was futile. The idea of that had been filling him with dread, but now he clung onto it longingly, ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’

‘I did,’ said Josie, ‘but the open-air theatre would make such a great setting for the wedding. So romantic. You can’t have forgotten our first date there?’

Of course he hadn’t. The first time he’d ever been to this house, years ago, with a group of their university friends, he’d found himself suddenly alone with Josie, the only one wanting to go out to the theatre for the night. It had rained, and they’d huddled together in their plastic macs under an umbrella, watching a magical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It had been a wonderful, incredible evening and he’d fallen head over heels in love. Though they’d drifted apart after uni, Harry had never forgotten either that night, or Josie. He still couldn’t believe his luck in finding her again.

‘Of course not,’ he said taking her hand. ‘It was one of the most amazing nights of my life.’

‘Aah,’ said Nicola fondly, ‘what a romantic.’

‘Of course he is,’ said Josie, ‘that’s why I’m marrying him.’

Harry blushed. He never quite knew what to do when Josie was so public about her feelings for him.

‘Stop it,’ scolded Nicola, ‘you’re shaming the poor boy. Now, what do you think about these bouquets …’

‘Oh, Mum, they’re gorgeous,’ Josie was peering at pictures of pale pink roses entwined with white carnations and wound in unknown greenery. There were pages and pages of pictures of bouquets that all looked the same to Harry. He endured five minutes of Josie rhapsodising about flowers and then, deciding his presence wasn’t necessary, beat a retreat into the garden, hoping he wasn’t going to face a grilling from Peter about his latest prospects.

Diana had disappeared to take a nap, claiming a headache in a very pointed manner, evidently her desire not to spend time with Ant overcoming her normal politeness in front of Josie’s parents. What was going on there? They clearly knew one another, but were being icily polite to the point of freezing. And Ant was pretending to barely know Diana, which was clearly not true. Harry wondered which of Ant’s many conquests Di must have been. It was always hard to keep track with Ant, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall Ant mentioning her before. He wondered if she was the one who’d broken Ant’s heart. It would explain an awful lot. Resolving to ask him at the first opportunity, Harry went into the garden where he found Ant animatedly talking business with Peter.

‘So what do you think about us losing our triple A rating then?’ Ant was saying as he approached. ‘The country’s being run by idiots.’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ said Peter. ‘This bunch is no better than the last lot. I worry about the future for you kids, I really do.’

‘It could be worse, at least we’re not Italy,’ said Ant, provoking a hearty laugh from Peter which made Harry feel like punching a wall. He’d never made Peter laugh like that once, not in all the months he’d been coming here.

In truth, while Harry had grown very fond of Nicola, Peter terrified him. A self-made millionaire who’d used Nicola’s money to make one fortune in the dot com bubble, which had enabled him not only to buy this house, but a pied-à-terre in London, a villa in Spain, and another fortune in the technological boom of more recent times. And he appeared to be recessionproof, living evidence that money made more money.

Harry, who came from a more modest background and was quite happy to be earning what he regarded as a reasonable income in a job he enjoyed, was totally baffled when Peter started on about stocks and shares, and even more so when Ant joined in. How the hell did Ant even know all this stuff? It wasn’t even as if he was any good at maths.

Gloomily, Harry sat between them as Ant quizzed Peter ever more heavily about the future of the economy, then Josie and Nicola joined them and went into frenzies about menus, venues, and other things which he felt were insignificant. When he’d impulsively asked Josie to marry him last October, he hadn’t foreseen this. There seemed to be no end to the minutiae that had to be planned for a wedding. All he wanted to do was go into a wood somewhere and plight his troth with his lady love, like in some kind of mediaeval knight’s tale. He loved Josie, she loved him. All the rest was frippery. But she clearly didn’t see it like that …

Chapter Three

‘You’ll never guess who’s staying in the village?’ Nicola said gleefully as they sat down to a huge lunch on the vast patio by the pool. Josie had tried to stop her, told her they’d be just as happy to head to the pub for lunch (she could see Harry and Ant were already getting twitchy), but her mother was unstoppable. Nicola was the perfect matriarch. She’d been made to mother a huge family, and it had been a source of unending disappointment to her that she had only been able to have one child. She made up for it by feeding anyone who came within a mile of the house. Josie felt sure Nicola kidnapped people from the highways and byways when she wasn’t there.

‘It makes me feel useful,’ her mother had once confided in her daughter. Josie tried not to feel irritated that her mother could only see one way of being useful, and bit her lip so as not to retort, well go and do something properly useful if you feel at a loose end. It exasperated her that her mother seemed to be so happy with so little, having given up on any career aspirations long before Josie was born. Her own father had been wealthy in his own right and Nicola had never been expected to work. When she met Peter who even then was on the up, she devoted herself to being a full-time wife and mother. She wouldn’t even work with Dad, saying the figures were beyond her. It was exasperating. But it wasn’t in Josie’s nature to quarrel, and she didn’t want to hurt her mum’s feelings, so she said nothing.

‘No, who?’ said Josie, laughing as her dad rolled his eyes.

‘Only Tatiana Okeby,’ said Nicola triumphantly.

She was met with a stunning silence and blank looks.

‘Er. Tatiana who?’ said Diana.

‘Tatiana Okeby. You must know her. Sail for the Sun?’

‘Nope, not ringing any bells,’ said Harry.

‘Sandy Kane, tart with a heart. Who went through abortion, rape, several husbands, and sailed off into the sunset, never to be seen again? How can you not remember Sail for the Sun?’

‘Might be a bit before our time, Mum,’ said Josie.

‘What, none of you ever saw Sail for the Sun?’ Nicola looked baffled. ‘I could have sworn we watched it together, Josie.’

‘Did we? I don’t remember. When?’

‘Let me see … It must have been around 1983, I suppose,’ said Nicola. ‘Tatiana Okeby was tipped to appear as Auberon Fanshawe’s assistant on Freddie Puck’s Illusions show, but she quit to play Cassandra instead. She and Auberon used to have a bit of a thing.’

‘Now, Illusions I do remember,’ said Harry. ‘It was awesome.’

‘Do you remember the trick they did with the lighted candle?’ said Ant. ‘You know the one where Auberon’s assistant lit the candle and he made it disappear. I still can’t work out how they did that.’

‘Oh, I remember that! It was brilliant!’ Di burst in, then reddened when she realised she’d agreed with something Ant had said.

‘Well, that aside,’ said Nicola, ‘I’m very excited. Tatiana Okeby’s staying in that new place with the yurts near the open-air theatre, and the rumour is she’s going to be playing Titania in this summer’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I was telling Josie earlier, the theatre has been a bit down in the doldrums in the last few years, and they’re thinking of hiring it out for weddings.’

‘What, you two getting married in a theatre?’ said Diana, ‘what about a church wedding?’

‘That’s so passé,’ said Josie, nonchalantly. ‘I want our wedding to be different. To be the one everyone will be talking about for years to come. I think the theatre’s the perfect venue. And in the evening it will be brilliant for entertainment: jugglers, acrobats, magicians, that kind of thing. Won’t it, Harry?’

Harry didn’t appear to be paying any attention, and she had to kick him under the table before he mumbled, ‘Oh, yes, great,’ rather unconvincingly.

‘Wow,’ Diana seemed slightly stunned. ‘Sounds amazing.’

Josie checked to make sure Di wasn’t being sarcastic, but she seemed genuine.

‘Anyway,’ Nicola continued, ‘if we could get someone of Tatiana Okeby’s calibre playing at the theatre, it could help put us back on the map.’

‘Now, that I would like to see,’ said Josie. ‘The open-air theatre is so special. Isn’t it, Harry?’

‘Oh, er, yes,’ said Harry, looking a little guilty. He’d been deep in conversation with Ant about the many and varied delights of Illusions, and Josie wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her. She wondered whether it had been a good idea to bring Ant along this weekend. Especially as there was clearly something weird going on with him and Di. She’d been dying to find out what was going on there, but hadn’t had a moment alone with Diana since they’d arrived. She hoped whatever it was wouldn’t spoil the atmosphere of the weekend, especially as she didn’t trust Ant not to make trouble. He’d never been a good influence on Harry in her eyes, and so far this weekend seemed intent on dragging him away from anything to do with the wedding. She’d already caught them muttering about going for a pint. The only reason she’d let Harry bring him along was because he’d been so worried about spending the weekend with her parents, and she’d wanted Harry to have some moral support. There was a point to Di coming. They were going searching for hers and Di’s dresses tomorrow, and although the boys were getting fitted for their suits, Ant didn’t really need to be here. She hoped he wasn’t going to ruin everything …

‘Does anyone fancy a walk?’ Diana said after lunch. She was getting fed up with Ant, who kept sending her significant looks across the table. The last thing she wanted to do was to have deep meaningful chats with him. What was done was done. She’d long ago consigned him to her past, and wasn’t at all interested in having him in her future. She was hoping that he’d be more interested in going to the pub, then she and Josie could at least have a girlie chat. It felt like ages since they’d had any time on their own together, and Diana missed her friend more than she’d thought she would.

‘I’d rather have a pint,’ said Ant. Good. True to form.

‘A walk would be great,’ said Josie. ‘We can get up to the Faerie Ring from the footpath at the end of the lane, walk along the cliff edge and then make our way down to the village, and have a pint in the Lover’s Rest. It’ll only take us an hour or so. And it’s a glorious day.’

Diana frantically tried to signal to Josie that this wasn’t her intention, but Josie was looking fixedly at Harry, as if to say, Don’t you dare think about going straight to the pub. Harry clearly understood the look, because he responded with, ‘A walk sounds like a brilliant idea.’

Great. Now Ant would feel obliged to come.

‘I suppose we could stretch our legs,’ said Ant. ‘So what’s this Faerie Ring place then?’

‘They’re a bunch of Standing Stones on the cliff,’ explained Josie. ‘Local legend says magic happens there on Midsummer’s Eve.’

‘Don’t tell me, young lovers plight their troth while fairies dance around them,’ snorted Ant.

‘Something like that,’ admitted Josie. ‘All nonsense of course.’

‘How about it, Di,’ Ant said slyly. ‘Fancy finding yourself a red-hot lover on the cliffs at midnight?’

‘I think the key word that is wrong in that sentence is lover,’ said Diana sarcastically. ‘And until you can find me a red-hot lover worthy of me, I can safely say the answer is no.’

‘As if I’d be interested in you,’ said Ant. ‘You clearly still have no sense of humour.’

‘Not for puerile infants, no,’ said Diana. She was furious. A couple of hours in Ant’s company was all it had taken her to remind him what a prick he was.

‘Woah! Children!’ said Josie. ‘What is it with you two?’

‘Nothing!’ said Diana and Ant, simultaneously glaring at one another.

‘Okay point taken,’ said Josie throwing her hands up, and tactfully changing the subject, to Diana’s relief. She sighed deeply. She couldn’t wait for the weekend to be over.

But, as they set off down the lane that led past Josie’s house to the footpath that took them up to the cliffs, Diana felt a bit better. The hedgerows were alive with birdsong, and the air heavy with scent from the riot of wildflowers that lined the path: the pinks and whites of scarlet pimpernels and red campions jostled with blue mallow and purple speedwell and other flowers Di couldn’t identify. There was barely a cloud in the azure sky, and the sun was so warm, they soon discarded cardigans and jumpers. She breathed a deep sigh of contentment. It was great to be away from London for once and the tension that she’d left behind at work.

‘This way,’ said Josie, confidently leading them over a stile which led onto a sandy cliff path, where the foliage gave way to yellow gorse, green bracken and pink heathers, and tall cow parsley bowed down in the breeze. It was a steepish climb, but with the wind on her face and the sun on her skin, Diana was beginning to enjoy herself – until she caught sight of Ant whispering to Harry, and glancing in her direction. She felt sure it was about her, and her stomach plummeted. How utterly miserable. To think she not only had to spend a whole weekend with him but also a whole wedding, when she’d be forced to be nice to him. Diana couldn’t think of anything worse.

‘So what’s the deal with you and Di, then?’ Harry said as he and Ant forged their way up the cliff path. After the little display of histrionics between them, he and Josie had decided it would be better for now if they kept their warring friends apart.

‘Dynamite Di?’ said Ant, looking back down the path at her, affecting nonchalance. ‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Didn’t look like nothing to me,’ said Harry. ‘You reacted like a scalded cat when you saw her.’

Ant stopped to take a breather and stared back at the lane, Josie’s house reflecting the sunshine in the distance.

‘We knew each other a long time ago. Had a bit of a thing. Didn’t work out.’

‘Which is why you’re so down on her,’ snorted Harry, not believing a word of it, and feeling more convinced than ever, she was the one. He paused too and took a sip of the water he had thought to bring in his small backpack. It was hot work climbing the path. Last time he’d done this walk it had been in the winter and much easier.

‘I’m not down on her,’ protested Ant. ‘You’ve seen the way she is with me. She’s a cow of the highest order. Can’t think why someone as nice as Josie could be mates with someone as chippy as Di.’

‘Oh, Di’s okay,’ said Harry, ‘and she’s been a good friend to Josie; really helped her through some tough times. So do me a favour, mate, and be nice to her. Just for the weekend. If not for me, do it for Josie.’

‘All right,’ said Ant. ‘Anything you say.’

The sun was out and the walk was invigorating. Soon they’d reached the top of the cliffs, and could look out to sea. To their left, the green of the cliffs fell away to the sea, and the path led down towards the dip where the Standing Stones stood, hidden from sight from this angle. To their right, a path led to down to a little cove in the distance. Boats on their way back to Tresgothen bobbed on the turquoise-green sea below, and seagulls keened in the sea breeze. The sparkling blue-green waves, dancing in the sunshine, looked really inviting. Harry had the mad impulse to throw himself off the edge. Here, out in the fresh air on such a glorious sunny day, Harry had a sudden urge to get away from everything, to be free. He’d had the feeling for a while now: that life was becoming more constricted, constrained, even. Particularly since Ant had been back, and Harry had listened to his travelling tales with increasing envy. The lure of going abroad was rearing its head again. And today, the thought of diving out, getting away, suddenly seemed irresistible. Particularly when they reached the famed Faerie Ring, which stood in a dip, a slight way from the cliff.

Approaching them, Harry, who wasn’t often given to fanciful notions, felt a shiver go down his spine. The stones were so old, and weathered; had stood here for generations, through wind and shine. It wasn’t hard to think somehow there was something deeply magical here.

‘Well, go on then,’ said Di, pushing Josie at Harry. ‘Time to plight your troth. It will bring you luck at your wedding.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Josie, ‘it’s only a silly superstition. And you have to do it at midnight on Midsummer’s Eve. Plus, you need love-in-idleness.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Ant.

‘A flower; a sort of wild pansy,’ said Josie. ‘The legend goes that if your true love picks love-in-idleness at midsummer, your love will be eternal.’

‘Oh, that is so romantic,’ Di clapped her hands together with glee. ‘I do love all these old tales.’

Harry could see they were both angling for him to say something, but he laughed it off and said, ‘I wouldn’t know a wild pansy from a geranium,’ till Di said lightly, ‘See, there are some growing here, by this stone.’

At that moment, he could have cheerfully strangled her. It had been the same, the day he’d proposed. That had been Di’s doing too. Would he even have thought about marriage without Di’s interference? Sometimes he wondered. To Josie’s evident dismay, he laughed it off, saying, ‘We’ve got two days to Midsummer’s Eve, I’d hate to get it wrong, and anyway, as Josie says, it’s all nonsense.’ He tried to ignore her hurt look as he strode through the Standing Stones and made his way to the path that led back to the town. It was just a silly local legend. She must see that. So why did he feel so guilty?

Ant’s bad mood had dissipated as the afternoon wore on. True, he still had to spend the weekend with Di, but despite moaning about it, he did enjoy a blow in the country, something he didn’t get to do very often now he was working back in the big smoke. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful summer’s day, and it was hard to stay cross for long. Besides, Peter had given him a great tip for an investment. He’d checked it out and it seemed sound. He was still reeling from the thrill of having had a chat with the Peter Hampton. It was the stuff that dreams were made of.

As they left the Standing Stones, Ant sidled up to Di. He was beginning to enjoy this weekend and he didn’t want her sour looks ruining things.

‘Look, Di, I know this isn’t ideal, us both being here –’

‘I should say so,’ snorted Di.

‘But let’s just get on with it, for Harry and Josie’s sake. We don’t want to ruin things for them, do we?’

‘No, that would be too dreadful,’ Diana sounded as sarcastic as ever. Ant felt doubtful his approach was working.

He tried again, ‘I know you think I’m a dick.’

‘Because you are,’ said Diana.

He’d said it partly in jest, and was surprised by the power she still had to hurt him. For a moment, he really wanted her not to think badly of him, wanted her to think of him the way she used to, but he tamped the thought down. No point going there; that door was long since bolted.

‘And I think you’re a cow,’ continued Ant, putting more venom into his words than he’d intended, wanting to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. She looked cross at that, but couldn’t really say anything, given that she’d just insulted him, ‘but we can at least be polite to one another, can’t we?’

‘I suppose,’ Diana said grudgingly. ‘But don’t think you’re going to use that famous charm to worm your way back into my affections. I never make the same mistake twice.’

‘Understood,’ said Ant, raising his hand. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He resisted the impulse to say you should be so lucky.

‘Good,’ said Di.

‘Good,’ agreed Ant, wondering if he could risk shaking on it, but decided it was best not to. There being very little else to say, they sped up to catch up with the other two, and Ant naturally fell back into conversation with Harry, while Diane and Josie resumed their chat about … whatever girls chat about. Even after all these years of bedding and chasing them, Ant wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

1983: Tatiana

Tatiana heard the phone go as she knelt on the floor, checking and rechecking the contents of her suitcase: passport, plane tickets, clothes, bikinis, sunglasses, suntan lotion – not that she’d get much time to sunbathe probably. By all accounts the workload on Sail for the Sun was phenomenal, but you never knew.

The phone was still ringing as she finally zipped up her suitcase, and placed her tickets and passport in her handbag, but she decided to ignore it. It would only be Bron, begging her to come back. God knows why he’d suddenly turned so needy after all these years. Who’d have thought?

Walking out on a five-year relationship hadn’t been quite as easy as she’d imagined. Bron had half his stuff at her flat for a start, and she wasn’t quite angry enough to dump it all out in the corridor for him to collect. So instead she’d endured several excruciating visits, when he’d begged her to change her mind.

‘I know the last few months haven’t been easy,’ he’d said.

‘Who for, you? Don’t make me laugh.’ Fear that she might crumble made her cruel. She knew he’d been hurting too, but she pushed the thought to one side. She needed this. She needed to get away, if she had any hope of surviving.

‘No, you,’ he mumbled, his face creased with guilt and pain. He stood underneath the hall light looking forlorn, a little boy lost – a familiar tug pulled at her heart but she ignored it. ‘Of course, for you, they’ve been tough. And I haven’t helped, I know.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ said Tati, then, briskly changing the subject, ‘We seem to have two copies of Rumours, do you want one?’

She went into overdrive, tidying, cleaning, sorting, organising. Anything to stop herself from actually talking to him. All those months, and all she’d wanted was for Bron to listen, to hold her, to share it with her. And now he was ready to, and it was too late. If she let him pull her back now, she’d be lost again, and this opportunity would be gone.

‘Can’t I at least hope?’ Bron had pleaded on his last visit, the one where she’d eventually banned him from seeing her again.

‘You can hope,’ she said, hardening her heart, ‘but it probably won’t do you any good.’

Hearing the catch in his voice as he left made her stronger once more, particularly when she could see tears in his eyes. It meant she was able to resist the heart-melting hug he gave her as he left. She’d cried a river over him, time for him to cry one over her.

Tatiana had spent so long in thrall to Bron it was quite satisfying to discover that while she could manage perfectly well without him (she ignored the painful little twist of her heart that still persisted whenever she thought of him), Bron was finding it difficult to do without her. Well, he’d have to manage, wouldn’t he? Her contract on Sail for the Sun was only three months, to be extended if her character proved popular. When she came back, Bron might be suitably sorry. Then she could think perhaps about having him back.

The beeping of a horn outside signalled the arrival of her taxi, while the beep from the answerphone told her that Bron had left his latest message. Well, he could wait. She’d wasted enough time on Bron. Time to seize her future. Time for Tatiana Okeby to have her day in the sun. Taking one last look at the small flat where she and Bron had shared so many happy times (she felt that familiar twist again, and reminded herself they’d had their fair share of bitter times too), she picked up her suitcase, strode through the door, and locked it for the last time. She was on her way. The future was bright and shining and golden.

As she got into the taxi and sped off, the phone in her flat rang again.

‘Tati – I know you’re there. Pick up, please. I’ve got some great news. Illusions is going to be on TV. And we can have equal shares this time. I promise. Tati? Are you there? Tati?’

Chapter Four

The pub was heaving, when they got to it. It was a lovely whitewashed old building with a thatched roof, wisteria growing up the sides, and hanging baskets tumbling down with bright red geraniums, blue and purple lobelia and yellow petunias. There was a pretty beer garden overlooking the harbour, and Diana was hugely relieved when the boys elbowed their way to the bar, and Josie suggested going outside. They managed to squeeze into a wobbly wooden table in the farthest corner of the beer garden, by a low granite wall, with a great view of the harbour. The sea was a turquoise green, and the sun was bright and warm. There was the constant humming of sails as the summer breeze danced its way through the myriad of boats bobbing in the harbour. On any other day it would have been perfect. But Ant’s presence had unsettled Diana more than she would have liked to admit. Dammit. How bloody typical of her pathetic little life, that Harry’s best mate should turn out to be Tony. The only man she’d ever let close enough to break her heart …

Christmas 2005 had found a twenty-two-year-old Diana working a season in the Alps as a chalet girl. She’d loved it. She was out of England, and therefore away from the ever-present sense of her father’s disappointment that she hadn’t made more of herself, and her mother’s rueful comments about ‘If only I’d had the opportunities you’ve had’; Diana’s decision to not go to uni and saddle herself with a load of debt having gone down badly with her parents.

But she was good at what she did. She enjoyed the challenge of organising skiing parties, plus she loved the outdoor life, and the partying hard aspect of the job. Life was for living, and the young Diana had wanted to seize it with both hands. She was earning good money, and unlike her peers, independent of her parents. She couldn’t see what their problem was.

She’d been having a ball, and then Anthony sodding Lambert had walked into her life and ruined it all. He’d knocked her sideways from the minute they met. For a while there, she – cynical, hard-bitten Di, who was never going to let a man near enough to break her heart – had even considered he might be the one person to make her change her mind about settling down. Which just goes to show how wrong you can be …

‘So go on then,’ Josie cut bluntly into Diana’s reverie. ‘What’s the story with you and Ant?’

‘There is no story with me and Ant,’ said Diana. ‘We worked together once. It was years ago.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Josie said. ‘Which is why you both looked as though you’d seen a ghost when you met.’

Diana had been dreading Josie’s interrogation since the morning. Josie had clearly given her some leeway about Ant, and not asked too many questions so far. Besides, she was happy to chat for England about what kind of flowers she was having, and Diana had kept her talking for as long as she was able. But it was clear Josie wasn’t prepared to be fobbed off anymore.

‘It was just a shock to see him,’ mumbled Diana. ‘It was years ago.’

‘Spill,’ said Josie, looking accusatory.

‘There is nothing to spill,’ protested Diana. ‘I worked with him one Christmas when I was doing the ski chalet thing. I barely know him. There is nothing to tell.’

‘Oh my God!’ Recognition suddenly dawned on Josie’s face. ‘Ant’s Teflon Tone, isn’t he?’

Diana felt the bottom fall out of her world. She really didn’t want to have this conversation.

‘No,’ she said unconvincingly.

‘You don’t fool me,’ continued Josie mercilessly. ‘Ant, Teflon Tone. No way.’

‘Yes, way,’ said Diana, realising there was no point denying it any longer. ‘Now can you see why I’m so freaked?’

‘He’s the one who —?’

‘Yes,’ said Diana. ‘That’s him. The bastard of all bastards.’

‘Oh bloody hell,’ said Josie. ‘If I’d had any idea, I’d have told Harry not to have him as best man, and I certainly wouldn’t have invited him for the weekend. God, Di, I’m so sorry. I’ll tell Harry he has to get another best man. It’s not as if Ant’s even that interested in the job.’

‘Not your fault. You weren’t to know,’ said Diana. ‘Just my godawful luck, as usual. Besides, whatever’s happened between Tony and me, it’s nothing to do with you two. Harry has to choose his own best man. I’ll cope.’

Josie sat looking thoughtful.

‘I still can’t get over Ant being Teflon Tone. What on earth possessed you? Or was he different when he was out there? At uni he always had a terrible reputation with women.’

‘Youth, stupidity, vodka?’ said Di. There’d been more to it than that of course. But she couldn’t bear to let her friend know quite how foolish she’d been. She’d heard Josie rant often enough about the idiocy of women who’d fallen for Ant’s charms and didn’t want to admit quite how easily she had done the same. It had all seemed so different back then …

‘Anyway, it was ages ago. All forgotten now.’ Diana looked round, desperate to change the subject; when talking to Josie about Tony in the past, she’d always played up the bad stuff, never mentioned any of the good, but there had been a reason why she was in love.‘Where are the boys with those drinks? The bar isn’t that packed.’

‘Oh,’ said Josie. ‘Look. Seems like we’ve got more than one local celebrity.’

Di looked to where Josie was pointing, to see Harry and Ant standing on the patio, deep in conversation with none other than Freddie Puck, the famous TV illusionist.

‘So go on,’ Ant was saying, clearly puppishly in awe of his childhood hero. ‘Spill the beans. How does the candle trick work? Is it sleight of hand, a false candle, what?’

‘You should know by now that I never speak of how the show works,’ said Freddie with a mischievous smile. ‘Shh, it will spoil the magic.’

‘He said it!’ Ant roared in delight.

‘Shh, it will spoil the magic,’ had been Freddie Puck’s catchphrase back in the day, solemnly chanted in playgrounds up and down the country every Monday morning after the show was aired the previous Saturday.

‘Yes, brilliant,’ said Harry, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his friend. He was beginning to wonder if he’d made a big mistake bringing Ant with him this weekend. He’d forgotten in the two years that Ant had been away, just how loud, how forward, how full of hot air, how thrusting, his best friend could be. They’d been mates a long, long time, and Harry had always felt slightly overshadowed by his funnier, more confident, better-looking friend. And today, as Ant grew more expansive, Harry felt himself shrivel a bit, partly from embarrassment (Ant would insist on talking to Freddie Puck), partly from an old and familiar feeling that in Ant’s presence no one was interested in what he had to say. Luckily Freddie seemed to have an ego to match Ant’s and was revelling in the attention.

‘I’ll just get the drinks to the girls, shall I?’ Harry muttered as Ant went into an interminable discussion about how he’d watched Illusions week after week, and tried to work out how they did the tricks. Freddie just smiled enigmatically as Ant came up with ever more outlandish theories about how they were done.

Sensing they didn’t really need him, Harry took the tray of drinks over to the girls.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, sliding gratefully into his seat. ‘Ant would insist on holding court with Freddie Puck. Honestly, he’s incorrigible.’

‘That’s one word for him,’ Diana said pointedly.

‘Look, Di,’ Harry felt even more embarrassed, ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea that you and Ant knew each other. I’d never have brought him if I’d known.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Diana, with a grateful smile. It almost made her look vulnerable, and he noticed with slight surprise how pretty she was. ‘Past history. Done and dealt with a long time ago. Now let’s get onto something far more interesting. Like you two getting hitched.’

Harry tried to smile with enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure ssssshe wanted to talk about the wedding either. For reasons he felt uncomfortable dwelling on , the thought of the wedding was making him feel more and more uneasy. But he’d do anything to avoid a row, so he smiled again and said, ‘Yes, it’s going to be great, isn’t it?’

‘I know,’ said Josie grabbing his hand. ‘We’re so excited, aren’t we, Harry?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry, with more enthusiasm than he felt. ‘We can’t wait.’

He felt mean then. He squeezed Josie’s hand and kissed her on the lips. Of course she was excited. They were getting married; they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. The thought of spending the rest of his life with Josie made him tingle all over. She was so gorgeous and she was his; he was very, very fortunate.

Diana was looking at her texts, and frowning.

‘Shit, first signal I’ve managed to get all day, and apparently I need to ring work. Will you excuse me for a moment? You two can keep wedding planning in peace.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Harry, trying very hard to feel it was wonderful.

The afternoon was turning out better than expected. Ant still hadn’t come to join them, as soon after Harry had sat down with Josie and Di, Freddie had been joined by none other than Auberon Fanshawe, the star turn in the Illusions show. While Freddie’s act had been all about the art of illusion and the power of the mind, Auberon Fanshawe had been everyone’s favourite TV magician. They’d made a formidable duo, and a formidable fortune in the process. Ant looked like all his Christmases had come at once, sitting between them; a small puppy trying to please two masters.

‘Look at that,’ Diana smirked, having sat back down after being unable to get a signal. ‘It makes a change to see Tony, I mean Ant, looking overawed. That is something positive to take from this weekend, at any rate.’

Josie laughed. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said, ‘Ant is always so much in control. Hilarious. Anyway, back to the wedding; let’s talk table plans …’

Josie was feeling a little out of sorts, and she couldn’t work out why. The sun was still really warm, and the beer she was drinking was making her feel ever so light-headed. She didn’t often drink in the day. It was pleasant sitting basking in the sun, and watching the seagulls whirl above the cliffs, and dive down to catch fish. Part of her wished she could stay here always. She missed Cornwall when she was up in London. It should have been a perfect afternoon, but somehow she felt that Diana and even Harry just weren’t as interested in talking about wedding plans as she was. Diana kept drifting off, looking across at the bay, and acting as if she hadn’t heard what Josie was talking about, while Harry … Well. Sometimes she wondered why he’d asked her to marry him. He couldn’t have appeared less interested if he’d tried.

Josie wasn’t the sort of person to get irate, or worked up about things; she normally hated taking charge, and being confrontational, but this was her’s and Harry’s wedding and she just wanted it to be special. So she decided that she would have to take charge for once, and be more forthright.

‘Look, Harry,’ she said, as she caught him drifting off again, ‘this is important. We can’t just sit your Auntie Vi with Dad’s sister. It won’t work. Lulu is a huge snob and an alcoholic to boot. She’ll be vile to Vi, I just know it.’

‘I can’t believe we’re even talking about the tables,’ said Harry. ‘The wedding’s next year. Auntie Vi might not come.’

‘Fail to prepare, prepare to fail,’ said Josie. ‘I do not want my wedding to turn into an episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, with brawls at the top table.’

‘Come on, it can’t be as bad as all that,’ laughed Diana, ‘weddings aren’t normally that exciting, except in films.’

‘And we’ll have to keep Ant away from pretty much everyone. He’s bound to upset somebody.’

‘Now that, I can agree on,’ said Di.

‘Oh come on, Josie,’ said Harry. ‘I think you’re being unfair now. And you’re worrying about nothing. Why would anyone want to fight at our wedding?’

‘I just want things to be perfect,’ said Josie, wishing he’d understand.

‘I know,’ said Harry, ‘and they will, I promise. But the most important thing is we’re getting married, and nothing else matters.’

He grabbed her hand, and squeezed it tight, then gave her that little grin she found endearing, and she was instantly mollified. Harry was right; she was getting hung up on detail. Everything would be fine.

‘Excuse me while I barf,’ said Diana, with characteristic sarcasm. ‘I think I’ll just leave you two lovebirds to it.’

‘Di,’ said Josie, stricken. She hadn’t meant to make her friend feel left out, but she knew sometimes she felt she and Harry were in their own little bubble and the rest of the world was excluded.

‘It’s all right,’ said Diana, ‘I really need to get hold of work. I might get a signal on top of the cliffs. And I fancy watching the sunset anyway. I’ll wander back up to the Stones, and see you back at home. At least it means I get to avoid Tony for a bit longer. Result.’

‘If you’re sure,’ said Josie.

‘Absolutely,’ said Di firmly. ‘So lose the stricken face. You and Harry can have some time to yourselves. I’m sure you need it.’

And with that, she was gone.

‘Okay,’ said Josie, ‘time to talk about flowers …’

‘Josie,’ said Harry with a groan, ‘do we have to?’

‘Yes,’ she said firmly, ‘we absolutely do. Now shut up and listen.’

‘I love it when you come over all dominant,’ said Harry, giving her a grin that made her go shivery all over.

‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Josie, throwing a beer mat at him, but she felt better. Organising weddings was hard work, it was bound to make them tense with each other sometimes. So long as Harry always looked at her like that, they’d never have anything to worry about. ‘And concentrate, we have a lot to organise.’

Ant was having a whale of a time. Freddie Puck was fascinating company and Auberon Fanshawe a master of the discreet, or not-so-discreet, celeb story. Ant couldn’t believe his luck. Fancy meeting his boyhood heroes. No one, but no one would ever know how much time the young Ant had spent alone in his parents’ shed with a box of matches and a firelighter, trying out Auberon’s ‘How Do You Light The Burnt Match?’ trick. It was his little secret, but for the first time in his life he felt able to share it. They would understand. Freddie and Auberon were both good sports too, happy to have their photos taken with him, joking that their pictures would no doubt be all over Twitter and Facebook in an instant. Discreetly, when he thought they weren’t looking, Ant had done exactly that. He felt a little foolish when they caught him out, but it wasn’t every day you met your heroes …

‘So what’s your next project going to be?’ Ant asked.

‘Hush, hush, my boy,’ Auberon tapped his nose. ‘Early doors and all that. Let’s say my agent is in some … interesting discussions. And I have a few irons in the fire production-wise. I’m more in the production side of things now, with Freddie here.’

Freddie gave Auberon a sly look.

‘You could always sign up for A Dream. I hear an old friend of ours is playing Titania soon.’

Auberon blushed, and looked flustered. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

‘What about you, Freddie? Any chance we’ll be seeing Illusions back on our screens?’ asked Ant.

‘Possibly,’ said Freddie, ‘but actually, I’m down here researching a new project.’

‘Which is?’

‘Going to different locations in the UK, and trying to work out if the local myths have any grain of truth in them.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, here it’s the Standing Stones,’ said Freddie. ‘Locally people claim to plight their troth at midnight, and fall in love for ever. I’m going to see whether by suggestion and hypnosis, we can actually make two people fall in love with one another.’

‘Right,’ said Ant. ‘Now that’s something I’d like to see. Because I don’t believe it can be done. Take me for instance. I’m not in the slightest bit suggestible.’

‘Really?’ said Freddie. ‘In my experience most people are a bit suggestible.’

‘Well, if you could say, make me fall in love with – that woman,’ said Ant, ‘then maybe I’d believe you.’ He pointed in the direction of Diana, then realised Diana had disappeared and he was pointing at Josie.

‘What, that pretty little girl?’ said Freddie. ‘Easy peasy.’

‘No, not her,’ Ant looked round wildly for Diana. ‘She’s marrying my best friend. The other one – she was here a minute ago, tall, large, redheaded, loud, thoroughly obnoxious. She must be round here somewhere. I can honestly tell you she is the last person on earth I would want to be with, and vice versa. If you could make her fall in love with me, then maybe I’d believe you.’

‘Are you a betting man?’ said Freddie with a smirk.

‘Okay,’ said Ant. ‘Tenner says it can’t be done.’

‘Twenty, that it can,’ said Freddie.

He extended his hand to Ant.

‘You have a deal, my friend.’

Chapter Five

‘Well, that was exciting,’ said Ant, finally making his way over to where Harry and Josie were sitting. Auberon and Freddie, no doubt glad to be free of their most enthusiastic fan, had settled down with their drinks in the far corner. Harry felt guiltily relieved. Maybe Josie would calm down on the wedding chat for a bit. He had tried to be as fascinated about flowers as she was, but he found he just couldn’t do it. All he really wanted was to spend time alone with Josie and not have to mention weddings for a week.

‘You’ve come to join us at last,’ said Harry, ‘and save me from this endless talk of weddings.’

He’d intended it as a joke, but a trace of irritation had entered his voice, and he could see from Josie’s slight wince it wasn’t lost on her. He immediately felt guilty again. He didn’t want to upset Josie.

‘What happened to Dynamite?’ said Ant as he sat down.

‘Gone for a walk to the Standing Stones,’ said Harry.

‘And don’t call her that,’ said Josie.

‘Talking about the Standing Stones,’ said Ant – before he was interrupted by a dramatic figure striding into the beer garden, followed by a retinue of apologetic-looking people clearly trying to calm her down.

‘Who does he think he is?’ she was saying angrily, ‘coming here, spoiling my moment.’

‘Don’t worry about him, darling,’ said a rather androgynous creature dressed in the tightest chinos that Harry had ever seen, and a long flowing top. Harry would have hazarded a guess at the figure being male, if it weren’t for the long painted nails, and the high heels. He/she appeared to be following the woman, a blowsy-looking blonde dressed in tight leather clothes thirty years too young for her and dripping in gold, touching up her make-up at every opportunity. ‘Don’t frown, darling. You’ve only just had the Botox done.’

‘Which means I can’t frown, Gray,’ snapped the woman.

‘Is that?’ asked Harry.

‘Tatiana Okeby, yes,’ said Josie, ‘I remember her now. She and Auberon Fanshawe were all over the papers at one time. But, God, she’s gone to seed.’

‘Put your claws away,’ said Ant. ‘I think she’s rather magnificent.’

Harry couldn’t see it himself, she was a bit bold and brassy for his tastes, but she certainly had … something. The whole beer garden had stopped to listen to her, enthralled by the situation unfolding before them.

‘Tatiana, my darling, what a lovely surprise,’ Auberon Fanshawe drawled. He and Freddie had been sitting quietly in the far corner. Harry could see that Freddie was sniggering into his pint glass, clearly enjoying the drama.

‘Surprise, my arse,’ said Tatiana. ‘You planned this, didn’t you? You and Freddie. Just couldn’t wait to spike my guns, could you?’

‘What do you mean?’ said Auberon, wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Freddie and I are here quite by chance. Freddie’s researching a new TV programme. We’re staying at Tresgothen Manor.’

‘How very convenient,’ said Tatiana. ‘That you just happen to turn up in the same village, where I’ve been staying already, negotiating to play Titania in A Dream. I’ve been in talks with Mike Slowbotham about it for days. You’d better not screw this up for me.’

‘As if I would, Tati, as if I would. I’m sure the world is waiting with bated breath for your Titania.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ she glared at him angrily. ‘And don’t call me Tati.’ But she seemed mollified enough to calm down. Suddenly aware of her audience, she smiled graciously around her at the holidaymakers packing out the pub.

Before long someone had plucked up courage to ask for her autograph, and she smilingly obliged, as if the previous scene had never occurred. Soon she was surrounded by an adoring crowd and the chatter had returned to normal.

‘Well, that was entertaining,’ said Ant. ‘What a woman. Never a dull moment.’

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