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ever admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. Particularly since Josie and Harry had been living together. Diana had little in common with her new flatmates, who were friends of friends, and when not working late, spent most evenings alone watching crap TV. Recently the offers from men seemed to be less forthcoming than in the past. Josie had once told her that she scared them off. The trouble with cultivating an image of invulnerability of course, meaning that people thought it was true. If only they knew …
    Diana wished in a way she could be more like Josie, who was most definitely not spiky. Everyone loved Josie. It was impossible not to. Josie was kind and open and friendly, all the things Diana found it hard to be. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends, but people didn’t love her the way they loved Josie. Not at work, where her ambitious nature had given her a reputation for ruthlessness, nor in her social life, where she’d ended up dropping most of her girlfriends once they were shacked up. Apart from Josie. But that was because Josie was exceptionally kind. As was Harry. Diana felt sure he didn’t quite get his fiancée’s sarcastic; difficult friend, and put up with her for Josie’s sake.
    While Josie, Josie was kind and tolerant of their differences. And one of her special gifts was bringing people together in difficult social situations. When she realised the extent to which her best friend and Harry’s actually did know each other, she’d talked of other things, and Tone had followed Di’s line of
we’ve met but we barely know each other
with barely concealed relief.
    Another memory resurfaced, searing Diana with a pain she’d forgotten she was capable of. Tone promising her the earth then abandoning her in her hour of need. No one had ever let her down that badly, and she’d sworn never would again.
    Oh, God. Teflon Tone. Best Man. And she was Chief Bridesmaid. This was going to end up being the wedding from hell.
    Ant sped along the motorway in a state of – what? Fury? That wasn’t quite the word. But agitation, certainly. Bloody hell. Fancy quiet little Josie having made friends with Dynamite Di. How the hell had that happened? How the hell had he not known? He’d only been out of the country for two years, and it seemed like everything had turned upside down in his absence. Bad enough that Harry had had to go sentimental on him, and decided to get married. But to have Dynamite Di as a bridesmaid? That was adding insult to injury.
And
he had to spend a weekend with her, being polite? Bloody Hell. Bloody Bloody Hell.
    Mind you, there had been a time when he couldn’t get enough of her. Diana still remained one of the sexiest women he’d ever encountered, and he’d fallen for her in a way he’d never fallen for anyone before or since. But then it had disintegrated into a mess of bitterness and accusation. And the last time they’d met, she’d unceremoniously tipped a pint of beer over his head and called him a bastard of the finest order, in front of everyone they knew. He found out why much too late, and by then she wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t hear his side of the story. Ant couldn’t bear to admit to anyone how heartbroken he’d been about everything that had happened – only briefly telling Harry the details – so he’d buried those feelings deep, and sworn never to let a woman get that close again. He’d certainly never imagined meeting Diana again. And now here she was, larger than life, looking just as gorgeous as ever. And they had a whole weekend to get through.
    He’d been thinking about it so much, Ant nearly missed the turning to Tresgothen, the village where Josie’s parents lived. He vaguely remembered the pretty little lane, with high hedges and scary bends, as he drove down it. Some time ago – a lifetime it seemed now – when they were still students, Josie had invited them all down here for a long weekend, and they’d had a fine boozy time of it, as he