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Authors: Milly Johnson
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which was piled into a messily perfect bun.
‘Hi, Faye,’ called Bel. As in recent days, more so than ever before, the smile on her lips didn’t quite reach her eyes. Because Faye was one of them – a Bosomworth
– even if she was the only one of the three sisters who didn’t still cling to their maiden name to force a double-barrel. But blood was thicker than water, after all.
‘Glass of champagne?’ asked Faye. ‘Come and try this new fizz from France.’
‘Thanks, but I’m driving.’
‘Driving? You can’t drive tonight; it’s the family equivalent of a hen night. Leave your car here and pick it up tomorrow,’ Trevor nudged her. ‘We’ve got this
champagne in especially for you. It’s called Belle de la Nuit. Come on, Bel, let your hair down. This is the last time you’ll be with us as our “Miss Candy girl”.’
‘I’ll be okay with just the one glass, Dad. I’ve got to keep a clear head – I have so much to do in the next couple of days,’ she said, more than half wishing she
could lift a bottle of Belle de la Nuit to her lips and drink it in one.
‘All right, then, if you’re sure,’ sighed Trevor, handing her a glass of bubbly. ‘It’s so nice to see you here. You don’t come often enough, you know. And
we’ll probably see even less of you when you’re married.’
‘You’re welcome any time, you know that,’ said Faye, nodding heartily as she moved towards Trevor. He slipped his hand round her and something flicked at Bel’s heart.
Even now, after all these years, she wanted to rush between them and say, ‘He’s mine, not yours. Mine and Mum’s.’ Trevor and Faye had always been affectionate with each
other, hand holding, darling this, sweetheart that. Even after twenty-eight years of marriage.
‘Have you changed your mind about the house?’ asked Faye. ‘I notice it’s still for sale.’
‘Nope,’ said Bel. ‘I told you, I’ve gone off it.’
This was another lie that hurt to tell. She had fallen in love with Bell House when she and Richard had found it three months ago – even the name made it sound like it was meant to belong
to her. So everyone was stunned when she announced the following month that she was no longer interested in it.
In the same week she told Richard that she wouldn’t be staying at his flat any more until after the wedding. And he wasn’t to stay at her apartment either. She said she wanted her
wedding night to be special – unforgettable. Something worth waiting for. Explosive.
Richard was next to arrive, just as Bel took a huge gulp of the zesty fizz. She felt it trace a cool path down to her stomach. Then she pulled in a deep breath as her gorgeous, suave and
sophisticated fiancé made a perfect-white-toothed smiling beeline for her.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he said, draping his arms round her shoulders and kissing her firmly on the lips. ‘This separation is killing me, you know.’ He leaned in close to her
ear. ‘I have a constant hard-on like you wouldn’t believe.’
She gave his crotch a surreptitious single stroke. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered, licking her lips. ‘It’s really only hours away to our wedding night.’
‘Hello, Richard,’ Faye interrupted, handing him a glass of champagne and clinking hers against it. ‘What a happy evening we’re going to have with you both here
together.’
A car pulled up harshly in the drive, spraying gravel everywhere. Martin’s Aston Martin. Like everything else he had, it was being paid off monthly. He was obsessed by the need to keep up
with the Joneses – the Joneses in his case being his sister-in-law and her husband, who, it grieved him to think, could have paid for his car and his house with change from their arse
pocket.
‘Vanoushka’s here,’ Faye trilled, running to the champagne bottle to pour out three more glasses, for her elder sister, brother-in-law and niece.
‘Whoopee,’ said Bel drily to Richard. ‘At least it will be nice to see
‘Hi, Faye,’ called Bel. As in recent days, more so than ever before, the smile on her lips didn’t quite reach her eyes. Because Faye was one of them – a Bosomworth
– even if she was the only one of the three sisters who didn’t still cling to their maiden name to force a double-barrel. But blood was thicker than water, after all.
‘Glass of champagne?’ asked Faye. ‘Come and try this new fizz from France.’
‘Thanks, but I’m driving.’
‘Driving? You can’t drive tonight; it’s the family equivalent of a hen night. Leave your car here and pick it up tomorrow,’ Trevor nudged her. ‘We’ve got this
champagne in especially for you. It’s called Belle de la Nuit. Come on, Bel, let your hair down. This is the last time you’ll be with us as our “Miss Candy girl”.’
‘I’ll be okay with just the one glass, Dad. I’ve got to keep a clear head – I have so much to do in the next couple of days,’ she said, more than half wishing she
could lift a bottle of Belle de la Nuit to her lips and drink it in one.
‘All right, then, if you’re sure,’ sighed Trevor, handing her a glass of bubbly. ‘It’s so nice to see you here. You don’t come often enough, you know. And
we’ll probably see even less of you when you’re married.’
‘You’re welcome any time, you know that,’ said Faye, nodding heartily as she moved towards Trevor. He slipped his hand round her and something flicked at Bel’s heart.
Even now, after all these years, she wanted to rush between them and say, ‘He’s mine, not yours. Mine and Mum’s.’ Trevor and Faye had always been affectionate with each
other, hand holding, darling this, sweetheart that. Even after twenty-eight years of marriage.
‘Have you changed your mind about the house?’ asked Faye. ‘I notice it’s still for sale.’
‘Nope,’ said Bel. ‘I told you, I’ve gone off it.’
This was another lie that hurt to tell. She had fallen in love with Bell House when she and Richard had found it three months ago – even the name made it sound like it was meant to belong
to her. So everyone was stunned when she announced the following month that she was no longer interested in it.
In the same week she told Richard that she wouldn’t be staying at his flat any more until after the wedding. And he wasn’t to stay at her apartment either. She said she wanted her
wedding night to be special – unforgettable. Something worth waiting for. Explosive.
Richard was next to arrive, just as Bel took a huge gulp of the zesty fizz. She felt it trace a cool path down to her stomach. Then she pulled in a deep breath as her gorgeous, suave and
sophisticated fiancé made a perfect-white-toothed smiling beeline for her.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he said, draping his arms round her shoulders and kissing her firmly on the lips. ‘This separation is killing me, you know.’ He leaned in close to her
ear. ‘I have a constant hard-on like you wouldn’t believe.’
She gave his crotch a surreptitious single stroke. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered, licking her lips. ‘It’s really only hours away to our wedding night.’
‘Hello, Richard,’ Faye interrupted, handing him a glass of champagne and clinking hers against it. ‘What a happy evening we’re going to have with you both here
together.’
A car pulled up harshly in the drive, spraying gravel everywhere. Martin’s Aston Martin. Like everything else he had, it was being paid off monthly. He was obsessed by the need to keep up
with the Joneses – the Joneses in his case being his sister-in-law and her husband, who, it grieved him to think, could have paid for his car and his house with change from their arse
pocket.
‘Vanoushka’s here,’ Faye trilled, running to the champagne bottle to pour out three more glasses, for her elder sister, brother-in-law and niece.
‘Whoopee,’ said Bel drily to Richard. ‘At least it will be nice to see
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