The Chateau. Karen Aldous

it,’ her mother reminded Gina as she padded away towards the bathroom.

      Refreshed after her bath, she tried hard to fight off the image that was still tormenting her head. Instinctively, she wanted to pull out her computer and do some research but, realising she wouldn’t have time to look up anything this morning, she brushed through her wet hair and, in just her robe, went to join her parents in the living area.

      The bright sunlight immediately hit her eyes. The terrace doors spread open wide. Aunt Bernie’s form was silhouetted against the brightness as she lifted pastries from a box and placed them on a plate on the table. She turned as Gina sauntered in.

      ‘Good morning, Gina. It’s beautiful out here this morning, a perfect day for a wedding. I suppose it’s your turn next.’

      ‘It’s a gorgeous morning, yes. I wonder how James and Gabriella are this morning,’ Gina replied, ignoring the latter part of her aunt’s comment.

      ‘Well, they didn’t have a late night,’ said her mother. ‘Dan took his duty of best man quite seriously and got James back to his room when we all left. I think there were only a few in the bar when we left. Ollie was one of them. It’s a small world, isn’t it? He lives in the next block and his parents live just across there. That villa there.’ Adrienne pointed down from the terrace.

      ‘Yes, you told me. You’ve lived here all this time and never met them?’ Gina asked.

      ‘Well, I think we know who his parents are. I think we’ve met them briefly at a party. If it’s who I think it is, the son was an Olympic skier. I didn’t realise they were Gabriella’s relatives.’

      ‘That doesn’t explain why he’s such an arrogant little shit.’

      ‘I thought he was rather endearing, rather grounded,’ Aunt Bernie argued.

      ‘Grounded like fog at an airport? You and Mum are such suckers. You both fell for his chat-up lines! I wouldn’t mind but they were so corny!’

      ‘I thought he was quite laid-back and interesting to talk to,’ Adrienne said as she reached inside the fridge for a new pack of unsalted butter.

      ‘Gina, we’re ladies of a certain age, we have to make the most of any attention we get,’ Aunt Bernie added as she carried the cafetière out to the table on the terrace. ‘George, are you coming out onto the terrace or reading your paper and being anti-social? Christophe should be here soon to keep you company.’

      ‘He’ll come out when he wants a smoke,’ Adrienne said, glowering at her husband behind his newspaper.

      Gina swung round. ‘Yes, Dad. It would be nice if you would join us. I’m not here every day, you know.’

      ‘OK, OK. I’m coming,’ he said, lifting himself from his chair. ‘You’ve pulled my heartstrings as usual.’

      ‘Don’t make it sound like I’m controlling you. You sound like Max,’ Gina said pulling out a chair next to hers and patting it. Her father raised his eyebrows and obeyed.

      The hairstylist arrived twenty minutes later wheeling in a case filled with her tools. Gina sat impatiently as her hair was meticulously styled with enough hair lacquer, she imagined, to restructure the Berlin wall. Her stylist whirled her magic with a curling iron and pinned each curl up in sequence. Gina felt every pin as it was burrowed dagger-like into the flesh of her head. She had to admit, though, the effect was elegant, appearing loosely tousled, with a wispy fringe. It was then sprayed again so it wouldn’t fall from grace.

      Afterwards Gina scrubbed her face and cleaned her teeth again to get rid of the taste of lacquer. She sat at the dressing table and emptied out her make-up bag. As she looked up to the mirror Max’s reflection stared back as he leaned into the doorframe behind her, smiling.

      ‘So you made it then,’ she said, trying to contain her pleasure. At least he’d kept his promise. ‘You didn’t have to.’

      ‘I know but I wanted to,’ he said. ‘You’re hair looks beautiful by the way.’ He marched his well-tended physique towards her and clasped her hand. She held his gaze.

      ‘I’m not going to pretend I’m happy, Max,’ she said swiping back her hand and picking up her face cream, unscrewing the lid. ‘I don’t think we should discuss it now though. I’m just going to get some base make-up on then I’m going up to Gabriella’s suite. She has a make-up artist to finish us bridesmaids off.’

      ‘Fine. I’ll get changed here and walk along with your parents.’

      ‘Well, they won’t be far behind me, so you best hurry.’

      ‘OK but I’ve got time to tell my darling girl how much I love her, right?’

      ‘Yes, but I’m not going to listen to any more of your bullshit. If you really don’t want a family, like I told you Thursday, I don’t see where our relationship is going to go.’

      ‘So, you don’t love me?’

      ‘Let’s not go there now, Max.’

      She watched as his tall, slender frame turned, clutching his head with one hand. He was obviously as frustrated as she was. Why he needed to wait she didn’t know. They could afford a family, he knew that, and he could continue to work on the new charity he’d set up. That wasn’t likely to get in the way. He worked from home often. She couldn’t understand his reasoning or rather, she surmised, his excuses.

      As Gina collected up her make-up and put it back in the bag, Max returned to the room showered. He closed the door and dried himself off.

      ‘Your suit is in that wardrobe there,’ she told him while dressing herself.

      ‘I’ll take this back with me in the morning. My flight is at eleven.’

      ‘I’m not returning until Tuesday. I’m going to spend a few days with Mum and Dad.’

      ‘Yes, you said. I do listen.’

      ‘When it suits you, yes.’

      ‘Well, I’m off to the United Arab Emirates on Tuesday so I may not see you.’

      ‘Why there?’ Gina had now put on some jeans and a T-shirt and was slipping on some pumps.

      ‘I’ve got some people to see who are likely to give generous amounts to the charity.’

      ‘Oh,’ she grimaced, searching his face with a frown and collecting her bags. ‘Anyway, I’m off. Did you tell Mum you’re going with her?’

      ‘No, let her know. I won’t be long.’

      After having her make-up finished off Gina went with the two bridesmaids to the hotel foyer and waited at the bottom of the stairs for Gabriella to arrive. As she emerged down the winding marble staircase Gina’s breath was taken away. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law was a stunning sight in ivory taffeta. She paused for photos alone and then Gina and the two other bridesmaids – all three in matching soft peach – joined her as the photographer instructed them to stand behind her and pose for more pictures.

      After what seemed like hundreds of photos the bride and bridesmaids made their way through the foyer and processed into the ballroom to begin the wedding service.

      Gina’s brother’s face beamed as he caught sight of his bride, arm linked through her father’s, walking towards him down the aisle of white, floral-draped chairs on which a large congregation sat. Sniffs and snivels could be heard among them as the brief ceremony took place. Even Gina had to wipe a tear from her cheek.

      Once the nuptials were completed and the couple congratulated by guests, champagne was served with trays of hors d’oeuvres. They were then ushered to their tables for the wedding dinner.

      At once Gina felt a cold presence beside her. Nervously she turned her head, fearful of seeing the woman from her dreams again. Instead Ollie Martin stood there wearing a sheepish smile. She turned away embarrassed only to see Max at her other side.

      ‘You