Light pushes its way through a crack in the curtains. I roll onto my back, sinking into the sunken mattress as I starfish my body, stretching out my aching muscles. My feet hang out of the end of my single bed and an early morning chill nips at my toes.

From down the hallway I can hear Mum clattering around the kitchen, the hard spray of water as Dad turns on the shower. You can hear everything in a bungalow.

I prop myself up on my elbows and my mouth stretches into a wide smile as I look at the oak wardrobe I’ve had since I was a child. It used to be my school uniform hanging from the smooth, round handle. Shirt starched, tie pressed. Today it’s my wedding dress. Folds of cream silk and hand-stitched pearls that shine pale pink in the half-light. Happiness skips around my stomach as I think of Sam, and I wonder how he’s feeling, waking up alone in our bed in our new three-bedroomed house. It was a relief to move. Joe’s face was full of shame as he told me it was him who had broken in to the flat and sent me the text to deter me from my search for Sophie. Although I understood he was trying to stop me finding her, in case I found out what Amanda had done and told Tom, it never felt quite like home again. Harry has his own bedroom with us and he stays often. It took a whole weekend to hang Star Wars wallpaper onto the walls, smoothing out the bubbles, but it was worth it to see his face light up.

There’s a little garden too, and I grow mint and rosemary for our potatoes. I often stand outside feeling the wind in my hair, the rain on my skin, the sun warming my bones and I feel thankful for everything I have. Of course, it’s impossible sometimes not to think of Amanda cooped up in a tiny cell, and I feel sorrow tempered with anger. Sadness mixed with hope. Despite the awful things she’s done she took responsibility for everything and pleaded guilty to all her charges, leaving Tom and Joe free to start again. I am still aware that without her I wouldn’t be here. I am still grateful to her. We all have our reasons for doing the things we do, don’t we? The lies we tell. We are all a mixture of good and bad, and I don’t think anyone is entirely one thing or the other. That’s what I like to think, anyway.

There’s a tap at the door. Mum places a steaming mug of coffee on my bedside table.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Excited.’ And I am. My medication and my check-ups have been reduced and I am no longer seeing shadows in every corner, eyes watching my every move. I felt like any other bride-to-be as I’d tried on dress after dress, loving them all, as Mum watched, tears sliding down her cheeks. There must have been times she thought she’d never see this day.

‘This is for you. I was under strict instructions not to give it to you until today.’ She places a cardboard box on top of the duvet, and she swishes back the curtains before she leaves the room.

I prop myself up with pillows and open the flaps of the box. There’s something wrapped in tissue paper, a white envelope nestled on top. I slice it open and unfold the piece of paper and my heart lifts as I recognise Tom’s handwriting.

Dear Jenna,

I am so sorry Joe and I can’t be with you today but it’s our first trout season in Scotland and we are hoping our fishing business makes us enough to live on through the winter. It can be bleak here, colder than I’d thought but more beautiful too. I thought I’d feel isolated but there’s a steady stream of tourists and I feel content. The fresh air and exercise has done me the world of good. I’ve lost weight and am feeling fitter. Joe does all the manual stuff with the boats and I potter around with the rods and lines. It’s a life that suits us both.

Anyway. You’re getting married today! We are both delighted for you. I do think of you often, Jenna. I remember Callie fizzing with excitement when she told me she was engaged to Nathan (he’s coming to visit soon by the way!). Callie never got as far as booking a venue or choosing a dress but she did buy this and I think she’d really like for you to have it.

Lots of love,

Tom xx

I gently unwrap the tissue paper, swallowing hard as I see the silver tiara Callie never got to wear. I cradle it in both hands. The sun streaks through the window, reflecting off the tiny diamonds, sending rainbows bouncing around my walls.

My door swings open.

‘What are you doing still in bed?’ Rachel yanks back the duvet. ‘You getting married in your pyjamas or what? As bridesmaid, I order you to get your arse into gear.’

I laugh. ‘You look great.’ My eyes sweep over her lemon dress. It’s designer. She’d insisted on paying for it herself.

‘I know!’ She twirls. ‘Nothing but the best with the extortionate wages your dad pays me for being senior veterinary nurse.’

‘You deserve every penny.’ And she does. I work for dad too now but only three days a week. In my spare time, I’ve taken up art classes and I’ve made the box room in our new house a studio. I’m trying new things. ‘Living my life to the full,’ Vanessa said. She was thrilled. It’s different painting in oils to sketching and I haven’t yet made the girls on the beach I paint come to life, but I will.

* * *

‘Nervous?’ Dad asks.

‘A little.’ I peek my head around the door to the church. They are all there; Kathy holding hands with Mr Harvey – I still can’t get used to calling him Simon; Harry, one hand clutching Lavender’s lead. She has a huge pink bow tied around her neck. Mum is dabbing her eyes already and, at the front, Sam. He turns and our eyes lock and my nerves melt away.

‘Ready?’ Dad asks, and I straighten Callie’s tiara on my head before I loop my arm through his and we hover, waiting for the strains of the music to begin.

‘I Have a Dream’ by Abba begins to play.

And I step into the rest of my life.