Laura’s Instagram app beeped with a notification: Someone tagged you in a post.
Colour Girl: My beautiful baby boy. Thank you Laura Ford and Dr Mortimer. #blessed #goodfriends
Colour Girl: First day of March, birds everywhere…My wonderful doctor is coming soon. #spring. #beautiful #laCanette
The news set a hundred little birds fluttering in the pit of Laura’s stomach.
When was he coming to see the baby? Would he join her for lunch here? They could eat on the roof watching the sea sparkling in the sun.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.
She stopped the thoughts.
What she couldn’t stop was looking at Tirana’s Instagram every so often. The girl posted about everything: the generous islanders who’d sent her gifts, the pretty flowers, what she hoped for her little boy. They were pretty pictures and very nice little messages, and she certainly had a following. Laura herself, who had tried to use social media to promote the work at her last job, had never found it easy to say the right thing to attract interest.
Tirana on the other hand was of the Instagram generation. She’d taken pictures of each gift and posted it with touching comments. Already, #laCanette was getting re-posted with more comments about how nice it was to live there.
The girl made the island sound like something out ofSnow Whitewith dwarves singing and fruit falling out of every tree.
No posts about Adam though. Not for ages. By the time the #doctor made an appearance, it was after 3pm and Laura’s nerves had frayed.
Colour girl: My doctor is coming - on a bike because no cars allowed on #LaCanette Island
This was accompanied with a picture taken from her window of Adam cycling along the lane, his medical bag strapped to the handlebars.
Colour Girl: Doctor says baby is strong and healthy.
There was a picture of Adam leaning over the crib, his hair falling over his brow, looking sexy.
She worked out the distance, it would take him twelve minutes on the bike to make it to the Casemate. So when an hour and a half had passed, with Tirana back on general posting and no more news about the doctor, Laura knew he had gone back home without coming to see her.
That was what came of having sex with someone like Adam. He was clearly…
What? What was he? What did she think of him?
The old Laura would think he was clearly out of her league. The old Laura was the woman who’d failed to hold on to average men like Jacob. What chance did she have with someone like Adam? He’d fallen into her arms on a wave of fatigue after an emotional two days, strong plum wine, a birth and an old man close to death. That was all it was. She should never have let things get out of hand.
The new Laura was trying to value herself more highly. She was talented, smart, and beautiful. Adam had told her so many times, but so had others. She was a good and loyal friend; even the women in the Casemate had taken to her and came often to show her their work and chat. She was a brave woman. Who else would come to an unknown island and take on a job against the opposition of a hard-to-please old aristocrat and a nasty wedding planner? Who else would have helped with a baby’s delivery and…and here was the bravest thing, start a romantic liaison with a man like Adam?
Adam. The kind of man she could easily fall head over heals for. A man made for breaking hearts.
The old Laura would be dreaming about him now, making plans for a glittering future, imagining what their home would look like and what furniture they’d buy together. The new Laura would stop moping like a schoolgirl with a crush on a pop star. She was a grown up with a career to build and an important client to see.
The important client had just arrived.
Millie, looking tanned, happy, and relaxed, stood in the entrance to the Casemate. Laura rushed out to meet her, surprised how happy she was to see the other woman.
They hugged warmly.
“How was your holiday?”
Eyes sparkling, Millie started to tell Laura about her pre-wedding trip to South Africa. “It’s a completely different landscape; you can’t really compare it to anything in Europe. We missed the jacaranda season.”
“Jacaranda?”
“They’re great big trees that flower blue in spring – which is in October in the Southern Hemisphere…” She went on describing flowers as they walked back to Laura’s studio where the dress hung on a mannequin, waiting to be tried. It wasn’t sewn in yet; all the hems were held together by pins or hand stitched. Once Millie tried it on, and any adjustments were finalized, it would be ready for the final machine stitching. And only then would she start painting.
She couldn’t wait for Millie’s reaction. After all the arguments and doubts, this was the moment of truth. What had only been a pencil drawing when they last talked about it, had now become a real-life creation. An elegant, graceful waterfall of chiffon over silk.
