New House New Year New Me!

Steffi is finally putting Anthony's betrayal – and indeed, all dealings with men – firmly behind her…

- Rosie Orr

It was worst in the mornings. For the first few seconds after Steffi woke, she forgot, and started to run through her Still To Do list. Ring the florist, ask for natural straw ties on the bridesmaids’ spring flowers. Call Gorgeous Gateaux! and check they could do yellow and purple pansies scattered over the cake, and remind them she wanted yellow, not the lilac ribbon she originally chose.

Then there was the menu. Citrus profiteroles or chocolate parfait? Or both? Ask Mum. And were little gold nets containing sugared almonds the prettiest favours, or would the tiny silver slippers she’d seen advertised in Your Wedding! last month be more unusual?

At least there was one thing she didn’t have to worry about. The Dress. With a luxurious sigh she’d turn over, picturing the perfectly fitting guipure lace bodice with its sweetheart neckline, floor-sweeping organza skirt, delicate tulle veil dotted with pearls her chief bridesmaid, Leila, said looked absolutely –

Leila!! That was when Steffi always sat bolt upright with a horrified gasp, remembering. There wasn’t going to be any wedding. Tossing the duvet aside, she’d leap out of bed, pull on her trackies, and set off for her run.

Still, no matter how far or how fast sheran, nothing could erase the memory of arriving at Anthony’s flat one evening six weeks before the wedding – early, because her meeting along with the other clerical staff had been cancelled – and letting herself in with her key.

Seeing a trail of scarlet underwear leading to the bedroom, hearing voices. Slowly pushing the door to find Anthony and Leila – in flagrante delicto, didn’t they call it? That was one way of putting it – on Anthony’s black silk sheets.