Found by Elle Field

would he have thought that of all things? Sometimes I wonder if he suffered a knock to the head, rather than water on his lungs.
    ‘I’m coming back when I said I was,’ I continue, ‘and I thought I’d bring my wedding dress with me. The funeral put everything into perspective. Life’s short and, OK, I know that Felicity didn’t exactly die young, but I don’t want to waste any more time.’
    Silence.
    Crap, he hasn’t changed his mind, has he? I mean, this was his idea.
    ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is...’ I cross my fingers as I remember the joyful expression on Felicity’s face when I told her Piers and I were engaged, when I remember the beautiful flowers she sent us.
    ‘Piers Bramley,’ I stutter as I choke back more tears. ‘Will you marry me?’

Chapter Thirteen
    I take a look around me again. It’s hard to believe that the pop-up was in this space only a few weeks ago. A lot has changed since then – some of it for the better, a lot for the worse.
    When I walked into the upstairs space of Tabi’s, Tabitha’s weird cafe-bar-club on the King’s Road, it was pretty obvious that Ramone hadn’t taken his studio space back. The only thing that remains is his ancient black Singer sewing machine.
    The room looks dull – the opposite of how it looked when I ran the pop-up – only a wooden table and a set of chipped chairs are in here now. This is where Tabitha and I are sitting, away from the listening ears of her customers downstairs.
    ‘Is Ramone moving back in?’ I ask as I study Tabitha. She’s lost some weight, but she’s looking good for it.
    Tabitha frowns. ‘Don’t ask,’ she mutters.
    This is the third topic I’ve started that has been met with a frown. What can I ask her about?
    ‘How’s Will?’ I chance. Will is her therapist and I know they’ve become quite close, though exactly how close...
    Tabitha zips her lips together. ‘I’d rather not talk about any of that stuff,’ she says with another tight smile.
    ‘But you’re talking to someone about it?’ I check.
    She raises an eyebrow. ‘Of course I am, but I’m here for you today. Will, Lottie, Ramone,’ she lists, ‘are all a story for another day, not when we’ve only got an hour to catch up.’
    I scrutinise her once more. She’s wearing a floaty, floral maxi dress which makes her glow, somehow, and it also really brings out her eyes. She looks stunning, when she’s not frowning at me, and it’s hard to believe that anything bad is happening in her life. Tabitha may look hunky-dory but the tabloid stories about her are telling a different tale.
    I’m in a pair of black jeans, a soft plain white tee and a handmade, faux granite-and-white marble bunting necklace that I picked up off Etsy. After my New York stint living in pretty much the same clothes, I have embraced minimalism with aplomb – adding quirky jewellery to jazz up my outfits. It’s really rather refreshing.
    OK, she does look like she is taking care of herself, even if her family are falling apart. I don’t push it. Some happy news would be most welcome for my friends and loved ones though; we all deserve a big dose of sunshine right now, and not just outside. Torrential rain is bouncing off the roads and pavements, though London is still hot and muggy.
    When I came here this morning I did wonder whether Tabitha would be icy towards me, but she’s been nothing but her usual warm self since I walked through the door – the incident with Lydia clearly forgiven.
    I’m here to have brunch with her and then I’m heading back to Brockenhurst with my parents ahead of the reading of Felicity’s will tomorrow. I’ll just about manage a quick catch-up with Ob, a cuddle or two with Atlas, and then I’ll be flying back to New York. It’s a quick and busy visit, but I can’t wait to get back to Piers. I’m worried I’ll find him working or, worse, back in the hospital.
    ‘Well,’ I begin as Tabitha’s bar manager, Eddie, walks in with our