‘Justin! Jilly!’

They both looked around guiltily.

Olivia regarded them with affectionate amusement. Some things never changed, and by God was she glad she wasn’t married to the silly old ‘See You Next Tuesday’ any more. She and Jilly were good friends, and knowing Jilly’s disastrous track record she thought the stupid buggers probably deserved one another. Olivia was looking beautiful in one of her Ossie Clark original maxidresses. Her chocolate-brown hair was piled into a messy up-do, her expressive dark eyes lined with kohl. The resemblance to her daughter Bella was startling.

‘Isn’t this absolutely beautiful?’ she said to Jilly, ignoring Justin, who was trying to hide the tequila bottle down the front of his sarong. ‘I must say I think we’re honoured to be invited. As far as I can make out, the only other aged Ps belong to the bride and groom.’

‘We are parents of the bridesmaid, Liv,’ said Justin pompously, giving up with the tequila bottle and chucking it on the sand. He started rolling a spliff. ‘And we’ve known Poppy since she was a little girl. She must have been about … seven?’ After the excesses of the years, details could get a little hazy.

‘Ah, yes, I remember it well,’ said Olivia drily. ‘Bella first brought her home from school when they were both ten. God, they were sweet.’ Always maternal, she smiled fondly at the memory of the two little girls in bunches and ankle socks, holding hands.

‘Here’s your vino, Princess.’ A gargantuan man in a lurid tropical-print shirt appeared at the edge of the group and thrust a glass of white wine into Olivia’s slender hand. His own fingers were fat and bedecked with signet rings.

‘Thanks, Bernie, darling.’ Olivia smiled at him.

‘Bernie, mate!’ Justin was effusive in his greeting, even though the four of them had lunched together at Las Salinas beach only the previous day. He had a lot of time for his ex-wife’s partner (horrible word, but what else could he call him? Boyfriend was ridiculous, at their age, and he drew the line at lover when talking about his ex-wife).

‘Fancy a toke on this?’

‘Not my bag, me old china, but cheers anyway.’ Bernie’s beady little eyes were as amused as Olivia’s large brown ones. ‘So did you two find anywhere to carry on partying last night?’

‘On this island? With this body?’ Jilly thrust her hips in a manner that even Justin found faintly embarrassing and hard to respond to.

‘Pacha,’ he said quickly. And because he was a nice man, despite everything, added, ‘You were the most gorgeous babe in there. Just check out those abs!’

‘Oh, do shut up, you ridiculous old man. They’re coming! Don’t you want to see our daughter in her moment of glory?’ Olivia put a finger to her lips with one hand and smacked her ex-husband’s wrist with the other.

They watched in silence as Poppy floated down the beach on her mother’s arm, Bella a few paces behind. An aisle leading down to the water’s edge had been fashioned out of terracotta tubs of miniature orange trees, in full bridal blossom. Damian, now without his shades, was waiting where the sea lapped the shore. Even from where they were standing near the bar, Olivia could see how nervous he was.