Page 87 of A Wedding in Tuscany
‘Okay, Dad.’ Sarah reaches for Mum’s hand.
‘Good god, Sarah, do you have one blue fingernail?’
‘Yep, and so does Cat.’ Mum frowns at me over her shoulder and huffs out a sigh. And sometimes Mum doesn’t surprise me in the least.
We’re just outside the front door, me walking Dad more so than the other way around, and I notice three latecomers coming up the castle’s driveway.
‘Oh, you go on ahead, we’ll follow,’ says Mum, her passive-aggressive politeness telegraphing how impolite she thinks it is to arrive late to a wedding. ‘Can’t have you arriving after the bride,’ she adds for good measure.
As they walk by, Cécile gives me a taut, smug smile, Louis waves sheepishly then quickens his pace, and it only occurs to me after she’s passed by, that the third person in their party is Vanessa, Jean-Luc’s ex-wife.
‘Well, fuck,’ I say out loud.
