column when Sophie had charmed the editor and regaled him with stories about the Dorset Nurseries.
The rest was a history Anna had tried hard to forget.
A waiter had begun fussing around them, offering bread, hummus dips and sparkling water.
‘Have you had any spa treatments yet?’ asked Sophie finally. ‘I believe they’re heavenly.’
The benefits of the relaxing floral facial Anna had had an hour earlier seemed difficult to recall.
‘It’s a lovely place,’ she replied coldly.
‘How was the journey over?’ asked Sue, trying to fill the silence.
‘A bit of a rush.’
‘Sophie’s been filming the new show,’ said Sue proudly. ‘We’ll never be able to cope with the demand when it’s on in the autumn.’
Anna watched her mother beam at Sophie. Sue Kennedy never stopped mentioning how grateful she and her husband were to their younger daughter for driving business to the Dorset Nurseries. Anna tried not to feel too resentful that no one ever mentioned that it was her idea in the first place to transform the disused conservatory into a restaurant, or that she had spent many hours compiling her parents’ business plan and helping them get the finance to do it. But it was hard not to feel slighted.
‘So have you looked at the menu?’ she asked.
‘What do you recommend, Sophie?’ asked Sue.
Anna almost smiled. Everyone in Sophie’s inner circle knew that the delicious recipes in the best-selling Dorset Kitchen Cookbook and on the show were Brian Kennedy’s creations rather than Sophie’s, but even her parents went along with the little white lie.
‘Oh, um, probably the field mushrooms,’ she said, picking up the stiff card. ‘Or the sea bass with fennel.’
‘I’ll have the risotto, then the sticky toffee pudding,’ said Anna.
‘Gosh, I wish I could eat all that,’ said Sophie. ‘If I so much look at a dessert, it jumps straight to my hips.’
‘Sophie’s already lost eight pounds in the last month,’ said Sue. ‘For the wedding.’
‘And she looks great,’ said Anna politely.
Her gaze met Sophie’s and they exchanged a look: rolling eyes, raised eyebrows, a look that said, ‘Mum’s put her foot in it again.’ It was a familiar look, a code from their childhood, just one of many secrets they’d shared growing up in the same room, and it made Anna suddenly terribly sad. Her anger had passed. But it was regret now that nearly took her breath away. Regret that every happy memory of childhood – singing along to cheesy pop on their bedroom stereo, birthday parties, trips to the movies – now seemed tainted. Regret that the whole sorry episode of Sophie and Andrew’s betrayal had changed her; she didn’t want to be a cold, bitter and lonely person, but she knew that it was the reason she hadn’t had a relationship since. She felt herself getting emotional. She didn’t want her mother or sister to see that.
The waiter was approaching again. Anna took a deep breath.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said, getting up. ‘I can’t do this right now. I need to get back.’
Sue Kennedy looked incredulous. ‘But we haven’t even ordered yet.’
‘I’m not that hungry,’ said Anna, pushing her chair in. ‘You two enjoy yourselves.’
She turned and walked out, squeezing her nails into her palm, desperate not to cry. She returned to the pool area as fast as her spa slippers would allow, needing to grab her book and trainers from where she’d left them. And then she could get the hell out of there.
She was just gathering her things when Sophie came up behind her, looking upset and concerned.
‘Anna, please wait. Can’t we just talk?’
‘About what?’ she said simply.
‘I know how hurt and angry you must have been . . .’
Anna closed her eyes and the whole horrific scene leapt towards her, as if she was seeing a slideshow of images. The key turning in the lock as she let herself into the flat. Glancing at the stereo on the sideboard, wondering why Coldplay was playing so loud. Walking through to the bedroom and bending to pick up Andy’s shirt that he had dropped in the corridor. And then opening the bedroom door. Legs entwined on the bed. Sophie’s face, her eyes wide. Andrew chasing Anna down the stairs on to the street. ‘It didn’t mean anything,’ that was what he had said. But it had. It had meant everything.
‘No you don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘These things don’t happen to you, Sophie. You can’t possibly know how it feels to have your heart stamped on, to feel so betrayed that you don’t know if you will ever really trust anyone again.’