She glanced sideways at Fizz. They’d grown apart over the last few years. Not deliberately. But with Darcy living in Edinburgh, Fizz in London and both of them adults with their own life, it seemed inevitable, even if it did make her heart twist and turn.

  She’d already lost one sister. And this event just gave her the harsh reminder that she couldn’t take her other sister for granted.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Fizz asked before Darcy had a chance to speak.

  She glanced around her, unsure of what to do next. Both of them had to be feeling a bit strange—how could they not?

  ‘Let’s go for a coffee,’ suggested Fizz.

  ‘No.’ Darcy shook her head in a way that was very unlike her. ‘Let’s go for a drink.’

  Fizz blinked, and then followed Darcy as they walked down the road. It didn’t take long to reach a fairly reasonable-looking hotel and they made their way to the bar.

  ‘Something to toast our sister,’ murmured Darcy as she scanned the bar.

  ‘It’s a cocktail,’ said Fizz without a second’s hesitation. ‘It has to be.’ She swiped the cocktail menu from the bar and scanned it as the bartender approached. ‘Porn Star Martini,’ she said.

  They sat in comfortable silence as the bartender made the drinks. Darcy knew that her sister’s brain was spinning just as much as hers was. But in some ways she and Fizz were very similar. Laura had been much more practical. She would have wanted to talk things through. But Fizz and Darcy both needed time to process things. To sort them out in their own time and in their own way.

  As he slid the drinks towards them, Darcy picked hers up, knowing that they would drink them in entirely different ways. As predicted, Fizz downed her prosecco shot first, then held her glass with the mango cocktail. Darcy gave a small laugh and mixed her prosecco in with the cocktail—as Fizz shook her head—then lifted her glass to her sister’s.

  ‘To Laura. We loved her and miss her every day,’ she said.

  ‘To Laura,’ Fizz agreed. ‘And whatever she has in store for us with this bucket list.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  DARCY TURNED THE letter over and over in her hand. She was back home in Edinburgh, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  The aroma of the tea drifted towards her and she poured some from the teapot, cradling her cup in her hands as she looked out at the Scottish countryside.

  For a bride who’d been stood up at the altar, things had actually turned out okay. The hotel she’d booked into in the city for five nights had given her a taste for Edinburgh. She’d been able to look at career opportunities that would allow her to rent a place on the outskirts. Her cybersecurity degree had led her from one job to another, with salary increases along the way, with much of her work being done remotely.

  Her increase last year had allowed her to buy this cottage on the outskirts of Edinburgh, and although all the original features and stonework had been kept at the front of the cottage, the extension at the back had a glass wall that looked out onto the rolling green countryside and trickling stream nearby.

  The farm next door had some fence gaps that allowed a chicken or sheep to occasionally appear in what was supposed to be her back garden. But Darcy didn’t mind in the least.

  She loved her peaceful countryside view, who needed a TV? She had neighbours close enough to not feel isolated, but far enough away to give her the space she desired.

  Her life was settled. Her life was simple. Her life was quiet.

  Which was why the bucket list from her sister was giving her so much trouble.

  The four items listed for Darcy were:

  Do something that scares you.

  Grab a friend and have a mad twenty-four hours in a European city that you’ve always wanted to visit.

  Make a lifelong commitment to something or someone.

  Find somewhere peaceful—a space to share—to reflect on what you want out of life.

  These were just the rough notes. Because alongside the typewritten page were scribbles in Laura’s handwriting. Darcy was pretty sure that the notes Laura had written for her would be entirely different than the notes she wrote for Fizz.

  Across the top of her page, in writing so familiar it made her heart ache, were the words:

  You need to learn to connect with people again, Darcy.

  She hated that her younger sister, five years ago, had known Darcy better than she knew herself.

  Laura had never really been a fan of Darcy’s fiancé Damian. Darcy had dated him for three years, and been engaged for one before their almost-wedding. They’d met at university—he’d been studying geography—and they had settled into a comfortable relationship. He’d struggled with Laura’s illness. He’d never been nasty, but had sometimes clearly been frustrated when Darcy had cancelled plans at short notice because Laura was unwell.

  At one time he’d accused Darcy of always prioritising Laura over him. She’d denied it at the time, but now, looking back, she could see that she clearly always had—and wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

  The fallout from her never-to-be wedding hadn’t been extreme by any means. Darcy had taken herself to Edinburgh for five days, walked around the city, ate room service, joined a night-time ghost tour and spent an hour talking to a lonely elderly man in a café one day. Arthur had lost his wife of fifty years and was heartbroken. Darcy was the first person he’d spoken to all week.

  She’d reached out and held his hand in hers, wary of his paper-thin skin. She’d told him about being left at the altar, and he’d decided it was his job to cheer her up. His strong accent had thrown her at first, but she’d concentrated, and her ear adjusted quickly. By the end of the hour, just having that short-term connection with someone had given her hope and she’d left with his phone number in her pocket and called him every week since.

  She’d headed home, sold the house she’d bought with Damian and started looking for another job—one that meant she could get even further away. There had been no shouting or screaming. Damian had been level with her, telling her that even though they’d been in a relationship, she’d never really been ‘there’ and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life like that. The words hadn’t stung at the time—she’d still been numb about being left at the altar. But in the years since she’d understood them a little better. He’d been right. She hadn’t been invested the way she should have been. She hadn’t been wildly in love. She’d been comfortable. She’d never pined for Damian after he’d ended things with her. Yes, she’d been sad, upset and unsettled. And everything about that event had bled into her present-day life. Whilst she’d dated over the last few years, she’d never found anyone that she’d wanted to go all in for. Something always held her back.

  Darcy closed her eyes for a second, imagining Laura looking down on her and hearing her voice in her ear.

  You’ve isolated yourself. You have to get back out there. What’s happened between you and Fizz? Yes, you have a beautiful house, but what else do you have here?

  Her computer gave a sharp buzz and she jerked, moving on automatic pilot to sit in her bright red ergonomic chair and click the button to take the video call. Libby’s face flashed up on the screen and Darcy relaxed. Her friend from uni had moved to Australia a few years ago and was doing just as well as Darcy, except she had found a husband along the way and had a six-month-old baby.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Libby without pausing for a second to say hello.

  Darcy couldn’t help but smile and put her head in her hands. ‘It’s always dangerous when you think, Lib.’

  Libby laughed, her blonde hair partly covering her face. ‘I’ve been thinking about the photo of the list you sent me.’

  Darcy groaned. ‘Now, I know this is dangerous. I should never have sent you it.’

  ‘Rubbish.’ Libby smiled, her thick Welsh accent still present. ‘You had a moment of madness as you were getting on the plane to come back home, and thought you would share the list with your best friend on the other side of the world.’

  She lifted a glass of wine to Darcy. ‘You also knew I’d be sleeping and you’d be safe from a response for a while.’ Her smile broadened.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Darcy, her stomach clenching. ‘I know that look.’

  ‘I had a baby who was teething. I was up most of the night rocking her back and forward. And while I did that, I found a whole heap of things I thought you could sign up for.’

  Darcy looked down at her cup of tea. ‘I don’t think this is going to be strong enough to get me through.’

  ‘You know Edinburgh’s a great city,’ said Libby. ‘There’s lots going on. All you have to do is look.’

  Darcy leaned her head on one hand and held up the other. ‘Okay, hit me with it, but just know, I’m not agreeing to anything until I’ve had a chance to think about it.’

  ‘I want you to know I’m versatile,’ continued Libby.

  ‘Why do I have a feeling of impending doom?’

  ‘Rubbish,’ scoffed Libby. It really was her favourite word. ‘I found things that you could use for either “Do something that scares you” or “Make a lifetime commitment to someone or something”.’

  Darcy had let her head slump back into her hands, but it shot up at this point. ‘Tell me you didn’t sign me up for something.’

  Libby did her best to look innocent. ‘So, hear me out. I found adult gymnastics—which could be scary, a church was looking for a Scout leader—that could come under a lifetime commitment.’

  ‘I don’t know a single thing about Scouts, don’t you dare sign me up for that,’ threatened Darcy.

  But Libby wasn’t planning on stopping going through her list. ‘I also found pottery, painting, book clubs, curling, jogging, a netball team, a women’s rugby club, but none of these seemed challenging enough.’

  ‘How long was Charity up for last night? And why do you look so awake?’

  Libby shook her head. ‘I’m not really awake. I’m just in some kind of hazy, glazed state. Lack of sleep does things to your brain.’ She held up one finger. ‘But then I found something good.’

  Now that Darcy looked closer, she could see a glint in Libby’s eye. Libby had never done well with late night studying and lack of sleep, so she wasn’t too sure she should argue with her.

  ‘Do you remember years ago when we used to watch Saturday night TV as we were getting ready to go out?’

  Darcy nodded slowly.

  Libby tipped her head to the side and imitated Darcy’s voice perfectly. ‘And you always said there was no way you would do that.’

  Her heart sank like a stone. There had been two Saturday night shows on rival TV channels. One involved intricate dancing, and one involved being on a stage and doing...something, as the judges buzzed contestants off for being... Libby’s favourite word again—rubbish.

  She couldn’t quite find her voice right now. Either option made her feel sick.

  Libby beamed. ‘So, we know that Laura wanted you to go back out and meet people. What about this?’

  The copied and pasted poster flashed up in the chat on her screen.

  Carnival Ballroom Dancing

  Variety Hall, Edinburgh

  Every Monday at seven p.m.

  Want to learn the quickstep? The samba? The foxtrot? The Viennese waltz or the paso doble?

  Come along!

  Bring a partner or we’ll find one for you!

  ‘No.’ All of Darcy’s automatic defence mechanisms kicked into place. ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ said Libby, an edge of humour and scorn in her voice. ‘I could have picked a parachute jump, abseiling, or diving off the top of a mountain.’ She leaned forward into the camera and put her hand on her chest. ‘But remember, I know you. I was there when you shuddered as the celebs had to learn to dance with their professional partner, then some stomped around the dance floor and others flew like butterflies.’

  ‘And you knew I was terrified of it.’

  ‘Just like I know that you’re equally terrified of heights and deep water. I picked the lesser of the evils.’ Libby looked decidedly pleased with herself.

  Darcy took a long, slow breath. She’d been pondering the list for a few days and got nowhere. The truth was, she was scared to start. Scared to take the steps that Laura was pushing her towards. She wondered if that was the reason she’d actually shared the list with Libby. Deep down, she’d known that Libby would push her on.

  ‘Okay,’ she agreed, as something flashed into her brain. Those words: Bring a partner or we’ll find one for you!

  Arthur. Five years later, he was still in her life. They had occasional lunches together, or afternoon teas, or sometimes even met in the Princes Street Gardens. The last thing she wanted to do was be up close and personal with someone she didn’t know. Arthur was a gentleman. Plus, he was eighty-five. They could sit out the vigorous dances and maybe just try the Viennese waltz. Would she be able to persuade him?

  Something else pricked in her brain. She’d heard that some of these kinds of classes were full of older women. Maybe Arthur could meet someone?

  ‘This might not be a bad idea,’ she said, straightening up.

  ‘Eureka!’ declared Libby. ‘So, will you sign up?’ Almost instantly a link appeared in the chat.

  ‘Did you plan this?’

  Libby shrugged. ‘Told you. I’ve had some time on my hands.’

  Darcy looked at her friend again. Libby was always immaculate. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night for her, or if she’d only had a few hours’ sleep. But did looking good mean anything?

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘Yes, why?’ Libby’s brow furrowed.

  ‘It’s just...you’ve said you hardly had any sleep. But you still seem so...well, great.’

  Libby gave a nod of understanding. ‘Remember I have my mum, dad and Charlie to help too. They all look after me. I’m fine, honestly.’ She tilted her head to one side. Libby had always been perceptive. ‘What about Fizz? How was she? You haven’t said much.’

  ‘Not much to say. We went for a drink afterwards. But neither of us opened our letters together. It just felt too...personal. She texted me later and I know that we have roughly the same things to do—but Laura suspected we might interpret them differently.’

  ‘So, any day now I’ll hear about Fizz joining a nunnery or taking a vow of silence for a year? I can’t imagine there’s much in this life that scares your sister. At least none of the outrageous stuff that scares the rest of us.’

  Darcy rested back in her chair and let her shoulders finally relax. ‘I think you’d be surprised. Fizz puts on a good face to the world, but she’s not quite as brave as everyone thinks.’

  Libby gave a slow nod and raised her glass. ‘Well, I’m toasting you and your dancing. And I might send you a little surprise.’

  ‘What kind of surprise?’ Darcy was instantly suspicious. Libby could be wicked at times.

  Libby winked. ‘Guess you’ll just need to wait and find out.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ARTURO FABIANO WAS never nervous. He couldn’t remember a single time in his life that he’d been nervous. Except now. And except here.

  It was ridiculous. He walked past the unassuming entrance of the Variety Hall for the second time and shook his head.

  He’d left things to the last possible second, hoping some kind of emergency might arise that would get him out of this. He glanced at the phone in his hand for the last time. Ring! But the phone stayed stubbornly unlit.

  Giving his sister away at her wedding was an honour, of course it was, and after the death of their father, a few years before, he was delighted she had asked him. Delighted right up until someone had reminded him of the father of the bride dance he’d be expected to fill in for.

  Dancing had never been an Arturo thing. While some of his friends had slid around the dance floor as teenagers, Arturo had charmed his way around the bar and the dance floor edges instead. For years people had complimented him on his looks, his business acumen and his family values. But no one had complimented his dancing skills, because he’d made it a rule not to embarrass himself.

  Now? He stared at the panel outside the Variety Hall announcing the weekly activities held there. Now, it seemed like he was going to have to learn some kind of dancing in order to not let his sister down.

  ‘Coming in?’ asked a petite older woman with white hair. She had one of those intense gazes that gave the impression people didn’t normally argue with her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said quickly, holding out his arm for her to go first, then striding up the steps as if he hadn’t walked past them twice already.

  He gulped as he entered the large hall filled with chattering voices. The scent caught the back of his throat. Perfume, soap, dancing shoes and in Edinburgh, of course, the smell of wet umbrellas and damp coats.

  ‘You’re new,’ said another older woman, moving closer, along with a few of her friends.

  Arturo gave a weak smile, wondering if they pounced on all new attendees. His eyes scanned the room. At the other side was an older man with a woman around Arturo’s age. She had blonde hair in a ponytail and a puffy red skirt. She looked every bit as nervous as he did, and kept tugging at the edges of her skirt.

  A woman with her hair in a bun and a black leotard with a floaty skirt over the top approached him. She walked with an elegance that suited her. ‘Arturo?’ she asked.

  He nodded gratefully.

  ‘Margaret.’ She held her hand out towards him. The woman he’d emailed about the classes. She ran her eyes up and down his body. ‘You strike me as someone who doesn’t usually feel like a fish out of water.’