Sunrise By the Sea by Jenny Colgan

Chapter Seventy-five

As soon as the set was over, instead of wafting off to Backstreet Boy around the place, Kerensa turned to Marisa and Polly with a look on her face Polly knew only too well.

‘What?’ she said.

‘She loves the piano player?’ said Kerensa.

‘It’s not going to work out,’ said Marisa. ‘He’s hung up on his ex and . . . hang on, I don’t love him.’

‘Be quiet,’ said Kerensa. ‘He’s a man. You’re a hot woman. It’s a beautiful day.’

‘And my therapist says you shouldn’t look for external validation . . .’

Kerensa rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ She looked at Polly. ‘Let me dress her.’

‘She’s not a dolly!’

‘Oh, but she is though. Look how pretty! How good will she look in red.’

‘Better than me,’ said Polly.

‘I’m still here!’ said Marisa. ‘And don’t we need to man the stall?’

‘I am punishing Jayden for not liking the Backstreet Boys,’ said Polly, glancing at her watch. ‘I can spare half an hour.’

She smiled.

‘You can have the afternoon off. Just bring back a Russian piano teacher. Or a Backstreet Boy. Anything to stop you moping about.’

This was so far beyond what anyone had been able to say to Marisa in so long – her demeanour being so truly glum nobody could conceivably have joked about it – that she was completely startled, and then started to laugh. If her friends could take the piss, she must be on the mend.

Marisa looked around Kerensa’s dressing room in awe.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. Then she looked at Kerensa. ‘Nothing is going to fit me.’

‘Hush,’ said Kerensa. ‘You’re a tiny person. There’ll be loads.’

She whisked through, professionally, finally returning with a couple of dresses, but discarded the floral prints almost immediately.

‘No,’ she said, as Marisa hopped out of the ludicrously gorgeous rainforest shower to get the pizza off her. ‘That hair. That skin. You look like Gina Lollabrigida. We need to play up to that.’

She dived in again and emerged with a red dress.

‘I can’t wear a red dress,’ said Marisa, looking nervous.

‘Are you kidding? There’s people at that party in gold dresses. Of course you can.’

The dress had a boat neck and a belted waist that then flared over the hips – it was perfect for little, curvy Marisa.

‘And lipstick,’ said Polly. ‘Bright!’

‘Nooo,’ implored Marisa.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Kerensa. ‘Do you want him to notice you or not?’

‘I don’t want to look trampy.’

‘Well, how is looking mousy and terrified working out for you?’

‘Just let us give it a shot,’ said Polly. ‘Is there . . . ?’

She looked around, just as a waiter turned up with a bottle of Champagne and three glasses.

‘Oh God, I like coming to your house,’ said Polly, grinning. ‘Do you remember the wedding?’

‘Most of it,’ said Kerensa, grinning broadly in return, and they smiled at one another.

They fussed around Marisa, making her put the lipstick on but letting her blot it. A bugling noise out of the window alerted them.

‘Oh!’ said Kerensa, shooting a look at her Cartier watch. ‘That means birthday cake time. You’re on.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Marisa, suddenly stricken with nerves.

‘We got you,’ said Polly. ‘You can’t do everything by yourself, you know.’

Marisa nodded. If she’d learned anything over the last year, it was this.