On the way from the plane to the airport terminal, Claire said to Sean, ‘Perhaps you can let me have your friend’s name and address, so I can send her some flowers.’
‘Already done,’ he said.
‘From you, yes. I want to send her something from me.’
‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll give you the details when we get to the hotel.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘And I need to pick up my case and the bridesmaid’s dress. I checked them in to the left luggage, this morning.’
‘Wait a second.’ He checked his phone. ‘Good. Jen—my PA—has booked us a taxi from here to Sorrento and arranged the hydrofoil tickets.’
They went through passport control, then collected Claire’s luggage. He waited while she checked with the airline whether Ashleigh’s original dress had turned up yet. He knew from her expression that there was still no luck.
* * *
The taxi driver loaded their luggage into the car. Claire and Sean were sitting together in the back seat. She was very aware of his nearness, and it made her twitchy. She didn’t want to be this aware of Sean. And how did you make small talk with someone who had nothing in common with you?
She looked out of the window. ‘Oh, there’s Vesuvius.’ Looming over the skyline, a brooding hulk of a mountain with a hidden, dangerous core.
‘You went there with Ashleigh, didn’t you?’ he asked.
‘And Sammy. Three years ago. It was amazing—like nothing any of us had ever seen before. It was what I imagine a lunar landscape would look like, and we squeaked like schoolkids when we saw steam coming out of the vents.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘I think that’s why Ash chose to get married in Capri, because she fell in love with the island when we came here and had a day trip there.’
They both knew the other reason why Ashleigh hadn’t planned to get married in the church where she and Sean had been christened and their parents had got married—because their parents were buried in the churchyard and it had been too much for Ashleigh to bear, the idea of getting married inside the church while her parents were outside.
‘It’s a nice part of the world,’ Sean said.
‘Very,’ Claire replied. She ran out of small talk at that point and spent the rest of the journey looking out of the window at the coastline, marvelling at the houses perched so precariously on the cliffsides and the incredible blueness of the sea. At the same time, all her senses seemed to be concentrating on Sean. Which was insane.
Finally the taxi dropped them at the marina in Sorrento. Claire waited with their luggage while Sean collected their tickets—and then at last they boarded the hydrofoil and were on their way to Capri.
There were large yachts moored at the marina. As they drew closer she could see the buildings lining the marina, painted in brilliant white or ice cream shades. There were more houses on the terraces banking up behind them, then the white stone peak of the island.
Once they’d docked, they took the funicular railway up to the Piazzetta, then caught a taxi from the square; she noticed that the cars were all open-topped with a stripy awning above them to shade the passengers. So much more exotic than the average convertible.
The taxi took them past more of the brilliant white buildings, in such sharp contrast to the sea and the sky. There were bougainvillea and rhododendrons everywhere, and terracotta pots full of red geraniums. Claire had always loved the richness and depth of the colours on the south European coast.
At last, they reached the hotel.
‘Thank you for arranging this,’ she said as they collected their keys. ‘And you said you’d give me your friend’s details?’ She grabbed a pen and paper, ready to take them down as Sean gave them to her. ‘Thanks. Last thing—milk, white or dark chocolate?’
‘I have no idea. You’re sending her chocolate?’
‘You’ve already sent flowers.’ She smiled. ‘I guess you can’t really send anyone confectionery, with your business being in that line.’ Admittedly Farrell’s specialised in toffee rather than chocolates, but it would still be a bit of a faux pas. ‘I’ll play it safe and send a mixture.’
‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
He’d made it clear that he didn’t plan to spend much time with her. Which suited Claire just fine—the less time they were in each other’s company, the less likelihood there was of another fight.
She let the bellboy help her carry her luggage to her room. She’d barely set the dress boxes on the bed in her room when there was a knock on the door.