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Chapter Text

Miranda stood in front of the French windows of their living room, a cup of coffee resting gently in her hands. It was a quiet Sunday morning, the house comfortably silent aside from Andrea’s customary rustling downstairs. Her robe was tied loosely around her waist, her feet bare and hair still slightly damp. She lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip, closing her eyes briefly to savour the moment of peace. Sunday was the only time she allowed herself to laze around the house and she had learned, over time, to enjoy it guilt-free. She listened for the tell-tale sound of the front door closing and watched from above as Andrea flew gracefully down the stairs and began her morning run.

Andrea’s determination had been one of the many things that had drawn Miranda toward her all those years ago.

It was also the thing that had nearly torn them apart.

This morning, the view of Andrea’s perfect stride as long legs propelled her along the sidewalk was a stark reminder of that particular trait. A combination of sheer will and some of the best physical therapists in the country meant that Andrea’s injuries were now invisible to the outside world. Everything else had healed with time and life continued on as it had a tendency to do.

Runway continued to demand much of her time. An ever-changing media landscape meant the magazine was never stagnant and continued to hold her attention as much as it ever had. Andrea was equally as busy, her work schedule irregular and, at times, more gruelling than her own. The publication of her book last year had drawn Andrea further into the public eye, days filled with guest lectures, televised interviews, and op-ed pieces for publications here and abroad. Andrea’s deeply rooted sense of responsibility towards the world and its denizens hadn’t faded, but the journalist-by-trade was becoming noticeably more jaded. Sometimes it felt like no matter what you did, nothing ever changed.

Well, she wasn’t alone in that. The world seemed like a different place, even more so recently. Miranda shook off maudlin thoughts and finished the last of her coffee before turning away from the morning sunlight. As she glanced around the living room she pondered whether it was time for some renovations. Andrea despised change in the townhouse, hated the smell of anything new, and complained incessantly that it was a waste of money and bad for the environment. Miranda smirked to herself as she imagined the arguments they could have—and finish—over everything from the wainscoting to the light fixtures. Perhaps a project would be a good distraction from the malaise of this decade. This room alone could keep them on their toes for a significant period of time.

She tapped her fingers against her lips in amusement as she made her way to the staircase. The shrill ring of the landline drew her away from pleasant thoughts and she couldn’t resist an eye roll as she noted the time. The woman was nothing if not predictable. She redirected herself toward the study and swept the old phone up from its cradle. Now, this was a room that needed redecorating, however, sentimentality had dictated she would never touch it.

‘To what do I owe this entirely unexpected pleasure?’ Miranda said in lieu of a greeting.

Elizabeth Sachs chuckled down the line. ‘You enjoy this just as much as I do, and don’t try to pretend otherwise.’

‘As long as I don’t have to hear you talk about work this week, you know how much the law bores me.’

‘I do, just as much as hearing about that rag of yours bores me, you old dragon,’ Elizabeth shot back. 

‘Now, now, Liz. People in very fragile glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.’

‘It was a knee replacement,’ Elizabeth growled.

Miranda smirked as she dropped down into her chair. Andrea’s mother was feeling very sensitive about her recent surgery. ‘Are you interrupting my Sunday for any specific reason this morning?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Elizabeth began, sounding a little too pleased with herself. Miranda had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like the reason. ‘I’ve decided to fly up next weekend. I’ve been trying to come for the last couple of months but it never seems to be a good time for my daughter, or you, according to her.’

Miranda winced. It had been quite a while since they had seen her. ‘We’ve been busy,’ she said carefully.

‘You’re always busy and you’ve turned my daughter into a workaholic to boot.’

‘There’s been a lot of attention since the book, which wasn’t my idea I might add.’

‘Perhaps writing about your experiences would help, Ahhndreyaa,’ Elizabeth said, her Miranda impersonation perfected over many years. 

‘I meant a journal, not an autobiography wrapped up neatly in political theory,’ Miranda bit back.

‘Is she taking care of herself?’

‘She’s fine, Liz,’ Miranda sighed, ‘as you’ll see for yourself. Friday evening?’

‘Yes, if that’s alright.’ 

‘I’ll have the guest bed made up and send a car. Email the flight details to my assistant.’ 

‘Carla?’

‘No.’

‘Edwina?’

Miranda rolled her eyes, already knowing what was coming. She was certain Elizabeth had a list naming every single one of her assistants from the past few years and she enjoyed reciting it far too often for Miranda’s liking. ‘No.’

‘Bruno?’

‘You’re as hilarious as your daughter. It’s Waseema.’

‘For now,’ Elizabeth laughed heartily.

‘I’m going to enjoy my Sunday now,’ Miranda said, pulling the phone away from her ear.

‘Miranda, don’t be such a—‘

She hung the phone up with a satisfying clunk.

*

‘I was thinking of calling Carl about the living room,’ Miranda said as she cut into her omelette.

Andrea groaned audibly. ‘I love our living room. It’s perfect, it gets great light and more importantly, it’s lived in. Which is the point of a living room,’ she said as she did her cool-down stretches against the counter. ‘Why don’t you just…’ she moved to stretch her other quad, ‘…throw a dinner party or something?’

Miranda’s brow climbed into her hairline. ‘What are you insinuating? That I’m some sort of bored WASP looking for something to do?’ she said, voice rising an octave.

Andrea winced. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant rather than throw our extra energy into the house, why not throw it at the people we never see? I haven’t seen Nigel in months.’

‘You saw him last week,’ Miranda huffed.

‘At an event,’ Andrea said, rolling her eyes as she dropped her leg and proceeded to sit on the floor to continue stretching. ‘It’s not the same and you know it. All that glad-handing bullshit for hours on end.’

‘It’s not like we’ll be doing the physical labour ourselves,’ Miranda said, segueing back towards the renovation. 

‘If you want to fight with me Miranda, you only have to ask,’ Andrea said, looking up with a knowing grin.

The knife in Miranda’s hand sliced through her omelette with more force than was entirely necessary. ‘I don’t beg,’ she sniffed.

‘I beg to differ,’ Andrea laughed throatily.

Miranda squirmed in her chair but refused to be baited by the lithe forty-year-old who was stretching out long, firm legs all the while keeping her eyes pinned on Miranda. 

‘I’m filthy,’ Andrea said as she began to stand, pulling her sweat-soaked t-shirt over her head. ‘Join me?’ she said as she dropped it with a purpose straight onto the floor. She looked full of confidence and far too cocky for Miranda’s liking.

Miranda got to her feet and waltzed over towards the woman that was equal parts the bane of her existence and the love of her life. She drew her close before whispering, ‘Your mother will be here Friday,’ she said, grinning wickedly.

It took a moment for Andrea’s jaw to drop. ‘What!?’ she squawked, jumping back. ‘M, what the hell!?’

‘I’ll meet you upstairs,’ Miranda said serenely before gliding out of the room.

‘Miranda!’ Andrea barked behind her.

*

Miranda rolled over and rested her head in her hand, the sweat on her body cooling pleasantly. ‘Well, perhaps a dinner party isn’t the worst idea,’ she noted to Andrea who was lying flat on her back, an arm flung across her face.

‘Sure, M. Whatever you want,' Andrea mumbled. 

'Next Saturday,' Miranda said, nodding to herself as a groan sounded out from the body beside her. 

Chapter Text

Miranda sat on the edge of the bed, fixing the clasp on her bracelet as Andrea slipped into her heels. She allowed herself to appreciate the figure Andrea cut, standing as tall as an Amazon.

‘Too much?’ Andy asked, tilting her foot out to assess the height.

‘Turn,’ Miranda ordered, twirling her finger.

Andrea obliged, and Miranda got to her feet to straighten Andrea’s jacket ever so slightly. The rich green Rosetta Getty pantsuit was a good choice, paired with Andrea’s once again long hair swept back into a high ponytail and a pair of white pumps.

‘Neutral pink lip,’ Miranda said as her phone rang and she moved to pick it up.

‘You don’t think a re—‘ Andrea began, however, Miranda’s look of complete and utter disbelief quickly silenced that.

‘Okay, okay,’ Andrea said, holding up her hands in surrender. 

‘Yes?’ Miranda demanded as she picked up her phone. Her eye moved clinically over Andrea’s ensemble, looking for flaws. It was perhaps a little masculine, but the wide-legged trouser and complete absence of anything under the blazer balanced it out nicely.

‘A friend is unexpectedly in town. Room for one more?’ Nigel asked down the line.

Miranda sighed heavily. ‘As long as they don’t work in finance or politics,’ she said bluntly before ending the call.

‘Emily?’ Andrea asked as she rifled through her makeup.

‘Nigel,’ Miranda corrected.

‘Problem?’ 

‘Not yet,’ Miranda sighed, remembering why she hated hosting. The Met was one thing, but a dinner party in her own home was something else entirely. Thankfully Andrea had talked her out of cooking.

‘I’m glad Cass could come up for the weekend,’ Andrea segued, likely sensing her stress. ‘The girls haven’t seen Mom in a while.’

‘Where is your mother by the way? I haven’t heard her shrieking in the last few hours.’

‘She and Caroline went out to discuss lawyery things,’ Andrea said as she picked up a lipstick.

‘No,’ Miranda said emphatically, eyeing the shade. ‘Also, where is the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist I used to live with? Lawyery,’ Miranda repeated with an eye roll.

Andrea’s reflection smirked back at her from the mirror as she picked up another shade and waited for an approving nod. Miranda sighed and walked over to pull out something suitable. She knew Andrea was being intentionally dense. She was the only person Miranda would allow to distract her from her stress and over the years the woman had become very good—although not exactly subtle—at it.

The door downstairs opened and the rise and fall of various feminine tones reached their ears. Miranda watched Andrea’s face light up as Cassidy’s voice reached them from the cacophony downstairs. They saw Caroline regularly as she was currently an Associate at a firm in town but Cassidy was deeply involved in her Ph.D. research at Harvard and, as such, didn’t come home as often as they would have liked.

‘We’re up here,’ Andrea called out as she moved to the door.

Cassidy appeared moments later, dumping a duffel bag on the floor and flying into Andrea’s arms. They held onto each other for a long moment before Cassidy pulled back. ‘You look amazing,’ she said with a grin before glancing across at Miranda. ‘Mom,’ she said with a broad smile as she released Andrea and walked over, head tilted slightly in expectation. 

Miranda swallowed against the lump in her throat at the sight of her daughter. The quieter, more sensitive of her two girls was well and truly a woman now. She stood as tall as Andrea, long red locks flowing freely down her back. As she pulled her into an embrace she felt herself holding on for a little longer than was strictly necessary. Cassidy had always been the more independent of her two girls, especially following her four years at Cambridge. Miranda saw much of herself in Cassidy’s quiet determination, but also much of Andrea. The woman had undoubtedly had an impact on the girls she had helped raise since they were teens.

‘I’m glad you’re home,’ Miranda said.

‘I’m not that far away now, you know,’ Cassidy said.

‘Well, you wouldn’t know it given how often we see you,’ Andrea said accusingly.

Cassidy pulled back from her embrace to roll her eyes in Andrea’s direction. ‘I see you every other week. You’re in my living room every time I turn on the TV,’ she started counting off on her fingers, ‘CNN, BBC America, John Oliv—‘

‘That’s not the same and you know it!’ Andrea protested.

‘I enjoyed the interview the other night. You sounded so…’ Cassidy paused for a moment, ‘…intellectual.’

‘If only they knew,’ Miranda noted mildly.

Cassidy snorted in response.

‘Hey!’ Andrea cried out in protest as Elizabeth and Caroline arrived in the doorway.

‘Are you still not ready?’ Elizabeth said. ‘It’s a dinner party, not the Oscars. They’ll be here in half an hour.’

‘And that’s the outfit you went with?’ Miranda said, raising her brow.

‘Oh hah-hah,’ Elizabeth said, flipping her a middle finger.

‘Mom!’ Andrea cried out in astonishment.  

‘She baits me and you know it,’ Elizabeth said, pointing an accusatory finger at Miranda before throwing up her hands and walking in the direction of the guest room.

‘I left something in the closet,’ Miranda called out after her.

‘Go to hell, Priestly!’ Elizabeth called back.

Andrea raised her eyes and arms heavenward. ‘God, help me get through this weekend. I should have said yes to the home makeover.’

‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic,’ Miranda said. ‘Caroline, can you tell the caterers we’re expecting one more, please?’

‘Yeah, sure. Do I need to change?’ she asked, stepping into the master bedroom to look at herself critically in the mirror.

‘There’s not a hair out of place,’ Andrea said as she moved over to place a kiss on her head.

Andrea was right, of course. The bob was a little severe for Miranda’s liking, but her eldest had perfected the art of fierce business attire. It suited her profession and personality, though at times Miranda missed the linebacker strut of her early teens. She still couldn’t believe there was a lawyer in the family, although perhaps she would need one before the night was over.

‘I can’t say the same for myself, however,’ said Cassidy as she looked down critically at her ripped jeans and a pair of boots that had seen better days. ‘I’m going to grab a quick shower,’ she said, giving them each a quick kiss on the cheek before heading in the direction of her old room.

‘I’ll make sure everything’s ready,’ Caroline said. ‘Drink?’

‘Wine,’ they replied in unison.

Caroline laughed and shook her head as she walked out. ‘You two never change!’ she called back.

Andrea slipped up beside Miranda and ran a comforting hand along her lower back. ‘When did they get so damn big?’ she asked quietly.

‘While we were busy working, I suppose,’ Miranda sighed.

‘Oh no, not tonight. Let’s go get you that drink,’ Andrea said, giving her a tap on the behind. ‘Perhaps another couple of rounds with my mother will cheer you up?’ she said with a wink.

‘That’s more likely to end in homicide,’ Miranda muttered as she trailed after her, adjusting her necklace as she shook off maudlin thoughts. She was so very proud of both of her daughters, but sometimes she wished she could go back in time just to hear them thundering around the house.

As they entered the kitchen, Caroline pressed an overly large glass into her hand. ‘Drink,’ Caroline ordered as she passed another one off to Andrea. ‘What on Earth possessed you to hold a dinner party? Don’t you usually do this at Nigel’s?’ 

‘Emily threw a glass of wine on his favourite rug last time, we thought perhaps it was our turn,’ Andrea said smoothly before taking a sip from her glass.

‘You know Mom can never do anything by halves,’ Caroline said with an eye-roll as she looked around at the overly extravagant catering. ‘You look like you’re about to host fifty people.’

‘It was that or letting her cook, and you know how well that turns out when it’s anyone other than immediate family,’ Andrea said.

Caroline shuddered. ‘I’ll never forget the lamb rack debacle of 2013.’

‘Vegans!’ Miranda hissed. ‘How was I supposed to know everyone was suddenly going vegan.’

‘You ask,’ Elizabeth said as she entered, wearing a pair of slacks and a tidy blouse, clearly from her own suitcase.

Miranda rolled her eyes skyward. 

‘Do you see what I have to put up with when I visit?’ Elizabeth said to Caroline, waving her hand in the direction of Miranda’s face. ‘What if I died suddenly? How would she feel then?’ 

‘Relieved,’ Miranda said, earning her a smack from Andrea.

‘We should bury them next to each other so they can continue this for all eternity,’ Caroline said to Andy with a grin.

Andy barked out a laugh as the doorbell sounded. 

‘Someone’s early,’ Miranda growled.

Chapter Text

‘I don’t bloody care if you think they’re not ready! The deadline was six hours ago, and do you know whose head rolls if they’re not in Miranda’s hands tonight? Mine, Lucian. Mine,’ she said to the photo editor.

‘You can’t take them like that!’ Lucian moaned down the phone. ‘They’re not ready, the lighting technician made a colossal mistake an—’

‘Too late,’ Emily said, flicking through the binder of photos in her lap.

‘Tomorrow’s Sunday, Emily. If she sees them now, she’s going to make me work the rest of the weekend.’

‘And your lack of time management is my problem? If you want, I can make every day a Sunday for you?’ she threatened.

‘Okay, okay, tell her I’m still working on them,’ he said, scrambling. ‘I’ll get it done tonight. I’m sorry, again.’

Emily ended the call and leaned back into the seat of the town car. She had been working all bloody day thanks to the Berkshire shoot and the last thing she felt like was spending more time with Miranda, but Andrea had insisted.

Well, at least there would be good wine and top-shelf liquor.

Her phone rang and she looked at the caller before picking it up. ‘Hello darling, is everything okay?’ she asked, her tone softening.

‘Everything’s fine. He’s out like a light. We may have spent a little too much time chasing pigeons in the park this afternoon.’

Emily shuddered. ‘Well, as long as it’s you and not me. He didn’t touch any, did he? You know they’re essentially flying rats. God only knows how many diseases they’re carrying.’

‘I was fully prepared with hand sanitiser, I promise. What time’s your dinner?’

‘Now. I’m running late.’

‘I’ll put a glass of water and two ibuprofen next to the bed for you,’ came the knowing response. 

‘It won’t be that late,’ Emily scoffed.

‘Every time I leave you alone with Nigel, Andy and Miranda you come home incoherent.’

‘It’s not my fault they’re alcoholics! I swear to god those women live on a diet of coffee, red wine, and the tears of men. Nigel included.’

‘Ah, yes, my love. It wouldn’t have anything to do with you now, would it?’

‘What on Earth are you insinuating, Matthew?’ Emily growled.

‘Nothing at all! I’ll see you when you get home,’ Matthew said pleasantly before hanging up.

‘Coward!’ Emily barked at the phone.

She opened her messages and typed out a quick text. ‘Give George a kiss from Mummy. I love you.’

Her phone pinged moments later. ‘Love you too, old bean.’

Emily smiled at the phone. She knew it was sickening, but there was little she could do about it. She rustled around in her bag for a compact and flicked it open to check her face. Everything was more or less still intact, thankfully. Everything except her figure. Pregnancy had destroyed her body. She recalled embarrassingly bursting into tears in Miranda’s office the day she’d realised she was never going to be a size zero again. Miranda was surprisingly sympathetic. Well, as sympathetic as Miranda ever was. She was gifted an entirely new wardrobe the following day and Vivien had sent her a custom piece congratulating her on the birth of her baby boy.

She’d never thought she would adapt to motherhood, and in reality, she hadn’t. She’d just found the perfect husband who was content to stay at home while she did the bulk of the earning. She loved her baby boy, but she also loved that—aside from one dress size—she hadn’t had to give up her life.

Emily touched up her lipstick as the car pulled up outside of Miranda and Andrea’s townhouse before snapping her compact closed. She looked at her watch. It was already eight-fifteen and Andrea was going to kill her. She leapt out of the car and made her way up to the front door, ringing the bell.

The door opened to Caroline. ‘You’re early,’ she drawled. She sounded just like her mother, which might have been intimidating if Emily couldn’t remember her as a teenager.  

‘Very funny,’ Emily said as she walked inside.

‘No, seriously. You’re early.’

‘Your wicked stepmother told me eight,’ Emily hissed.

‘Whoops?’ Caroline said.

‘Oh, well that’s bloody brilliant isn’t it,’ Emily said, pulling off her coat and tossing it in Caroline’s direction. ‘Is your mother having a hernia yet?’

‘No more so than usual,’ Caroline said as she pulled open the closet.

‘Who is it?’ Andrea called out.

‘Just Emily,’ Caroline replied.

‘Oh, thanks very much,’ Emily said as Andrea stepped out into the foyer to greet her, looking more stunning than she had any right to.

‘Hey, Em,’ Andrea said, moving in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

‘You said eight,’ Emily growled into her ear, giving her a smack.

‘Did I?’ Andrea said, looking mildly guilty.

Miranda stalked into the foyer. ‘You’re early,’ she snapped as she came to join them.

Emily rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with Miranda on a tear.

‘Because you wanted the Berkshire proofs, or is your memory starting to go?’ Emily shot back. She could get away with a little more when they were outside of the office, so she took the opportunity when it was presented to her.

Andrea rounded on Miranda. ‘You said no work tonight!’  

Miranda glared at Emily. Whoops.

‘I just want to see the result of a shoot that required a rather large budget adjustment,’ Miranda said to Andrea, as placatingly as she could manage, which wasn’t much. ‘Lucian seems to be taking rather a long time with the edits,’ she continued, eyes turning to Emily and narrowing, ‘so forgive me my suspicion that something has gone wrong.’

‘See for yourself,’ Emily sighed, moving to hand the binder over.

‘Nope,’ Andrea said, intercepting the folder. ‘I’m not going to have the two of you obsessing over this shoot again. I’ve heard enough about it today. It’s three issues away, whatever is wrong with it will wait until tomorrow.’

‘Andrea,’ Miranda protested.

‘No. Go and harass the caterers,’ she ordered, giving Miranda a light smack on the ass with the binder.

Emily wanted to gag. She would never get used to it, no matter how many times she saw the two of them together behind closed doors.

‘I think I smelt chives,’ Andrea added.

‘I told them,’ Miranda cursed before stalking in the direction of the kitchen.

Andrea dropped the folder on a table smugly before turning back to Emily. ‘My mother’s here,’ she said with a grin.

Emily cackled with glee. ‘Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ she said.

Andrea gestured in the direction of the dining room and Emily took off. ‘Elizabeth!’ she exclaimed as she entered, holding out her arms in greeting. She loved Andrea’s Mum, solely based on her ability to drive Miranda up the wall.

‘Oh, Emily, dear. It’s so good to see you,’ Elizabeth said, giving her a hug. ‘Where is that gorgeous boy of yours?’

‘With his father. It’s Mummy’s night to get plastered.’

‘Well, there’s never a shortage of alcohol in this house,’ Elizabeth said, a hint of judgement in her tone. ‘If we’re lucky, cirrhosis of the liver will take Miranda out before me.’

Oh, Emily couldn’t wait for this. It was like all her Christmases had come at once. ‘Allocated seating?’ she asked as she hunted for her place card, smiling in triumph as she found it.

‘I’m over here,’ Elizabeth said as they switched Caroline out for Emily.

‘Hey!’ Caroline protested, moving to check who she was now sitting with. ‘Who’s Nigel bringing?’

‘No idea,’ Andrea said with a shrug as popped a cork and began pouring out a generous glass of champagne for each of them. ‘Some friend who’s in town.’

‘Throuple?’ Cassidy said as she joined them, freshly showered and looking boho chic in a sheer mauve peasant dress with a light floral pattern. ‘I’ll switch with you,’ she said, picking up her placeholder.

Caroline tossed hers at her sister and caught Cassidy’s return pass.

‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ Andrea ordered everyone. ‘Hors d’oeuvres and champagne in the garden before dinner.’

Emily watched as Cassidy turned her back on Andrea and pulled a vape out of one of her layers, waving it subtly at Caroline.

Caroline shot her a grin and they snuck out of the dining room together.

‘Where are those two going?’ Andrea asked.

Emily shrugged innocently before taking a sip from her glass.

‘What time are we starting again?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Eight-thir—’ Andrea started as the doorbell sounded. ‘Oh, great, that’ll be Nigel,’ she said, taking a sip from her glass before putting it down.

‘Andrea!’ Miranda called out, ‘can you get that, please? And bring them directly to the garden, the caterers are ready, for once.’

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ Andrea muttered, exiting the room.

Emily and Elizabeth clinked their glasses together as they linked arms and made their way out to the back garden.

Miranda had outdone herself, once again. The deck was beautifully lit with high tables placed strategically so they could lounge around with their drinks.

It was a still, balmy night, the stage perfectly set.

They sipped their drinks and looked out over the back garden. 'So how is everything with Matthew and little George?' Elizabeth asked.

'Grand,' Emily admitted with a warm smile.

Elizabeth looked at her and smiled. ‘You look happy.’

‘I am,’ Emily admitted with a little shake of her head. ‘If you’d asked me five years ago…well, it was a surprise, at any rate.’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘I had hoped Andrea would have one more. She’s so good with the girls,’ she said, looking around for the twins. ‘I’m a happy grandmother, I really am. But a baby would have been nice,’ she said. ‘Where are those two?’ she added.

Emily shrugged as she eyed a waft of smoke coming from a hidden section of the back garden. ‘I wonder how many staff are crying in the kitchen right now,’ she noted, keeping Elizabeth’s attention on her.

‘All of them, I’m sure,’ Elizabeth snorted as she shook her head. ‘I thought she might have mellowed in her old age.’

‘Miranda?’ Emily said, laughing.

Elizabeth looked at her and joined in.

The twins eventually slipped onto the deck, picking up a glass of champagne each before joining them.

‘Where’s the food?’ Caroline said, glancing at the doorway leading inside.

‘Shouldn’t be long,’ Elizabeth noted before rounding on the twins. ‘What is that smell?’

Emily watched as the elder Sachs’ eyes narrowed and she sniffed, her nose crinkling. ‘Cassidy and Caroline Priestly!’ she hissed, glaring at them.

‘What?’ they said in unison, faces the picture of innocence. It drew Emily back more years than she could count.

‘Don’t play that game with me,’ Elizabeth said, wagging her finger at them. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday!’

'Legal in New York state since 2014,' Caroline noted, a dopey grin on her face in direct contrast to her severe hair and makeup.

Emily leaned into Elizabeth. 'And you wanted them to have more children?' she said, the amusement clear in her tone.

Yes, tonight was going to be first-class entertainment and Emily couldn't be happier.

Chapter Text

Andy pulled open the door and smiled broadly at Nigel.

It had been too long since they’d seen each other under relaxed circumstances and she couldn’t wait to pick his brain.

‘Six,’ Nigel said fondly as he clasped Andy’s hands and took in her outfit. ‘I brought a friend,’ he said.

‘Don’t murder him,’ Nick said as he stepped forward and leaned down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, now peppered with grey. His eyes were as good-natured as always, but Andy could spot the apology in them.

‘Murd—’ she paused, her jaw dropping as she took in the woman standing to the left of Nigel.

She may have never met the woman, but she had done her fair share of Googling a few years back after Nick had let the name slip innocuously in conversation at Nigel’s.

Her Wikipedia page didn’t do her justice.

Andy closed her mouth and composed herself, falling back on her television training. She hadn’t expected to have to use it in her own home, however.

‘The lady of the house,’ Nigel said to the woman by way of introduction. ‘Andrea Sachs.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Andrea,’ Riya Reddy said as she stepped inside. Her voice was like silk, her perfect RP accent rolling off her tongue like a BBC presenter. She carried her years with confidence and grace and Andy understood immediately how Riya had ended up in Miranda’s orbit.

Riya held out her hand in greeting, leaving Andy no option but to clasp it.

‘You too, Ms. Reddy,’ Andy replied before letting it go and stepping back to usher them all in.

Riya didn’t question why Andy knew her name and didn’t appear particularly surprised by the fact either.

‘Nick,’ Andy said, turning to Nigel’s on-again-off-again partner of many years, ‘would you mind showing Ms. Reddy through to the back garden? There’re canapes and plenty of wine. I just need a moment with Nigel,’ she finished sweetly but was unable to keep the edge entirely from her tone.

Nick began guiding Riya deeper into the foyer. ‘I told you this was a bad idea,’ he muttered to Nigel under his breath as he passed.

Nigel rolled his eyes. ‘Just go grab a drink, I’ll be there shortly.’

Riya, to her credit, ignored the fact that her presence may not be entirely welcomed and allowed herself to be led away. She took stock of Andy as she passed, her expression curious but otherwise unreadable.

As soon as they were gone, Andy pushed Nigel into the downstairs bathroom and shut the door.

‘Riya Reddy,’ Andy said tightly. ‘You brought Riya Reddy into this house?’

‘I—shit you remember that?’

‘I may have had a head injury but there’s no problem with my memory!’

Nigel winced. ‘She’s in town on her own. She and Miranda get along well enough. I thought…what the hell?’

‘You brought the only competition I’ve ever had into our house!?’

Nigel snorted at that. ‘Look, no offense, but you’re the one who thought warzones were more fun than a naked Miranda Priestly.’

‘Nigel!’

‘I mean I get it,’ he said, screwing up his nose at the thought.

‘Nigel,’ she growled.

‘Oh, come on, Six, it was years ago.’

Andy said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Miranda’s going to kill you,’ she said.

Nigel looked shifty at that.

Andy narrowed her eyes. ‘What?’ 

‘Well…’ Nigel began, a wince already forming on his face.

‘Out with it,’ she ordered.

Nigel reached up to adjust his collar. ‘We may have all had dinner together in San Francisco in the fall. I thought she might have mentioned it?’ he finished in a near-squeak.

Andy’s nostrils flared before she composed herself. ‘No,’ she said, neutrally, ‘That hasn’t been mentioned.’

Nigel stared, face paling. ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, shit,’ Andy said, pulling herself up to her full height as she sucked her teeth, anger palpable.

‘Six,’ Nigel said in warning, ‘this is Miranda we’re talking about. She would never.’

‘Oh, wouldn’t she?’ she snapped, flicking the door open and stalking out into the hall. Their sex life had waned a little in the past couple of years, a fact Andy was self-conscious about. She had been travelling a lot again, and perhaps Miranda was getting bored. Maybe she had flirted with the idea, or had just wanted an opportunity to flirt. It would explain why she had never mentioned it. What happened in San Francisco, stayed in San Francisco, so to speak.

‘Andy,’ Nigel hissed, chasing her out as she walked determinedly toward the back garden, entering the space with a flourish.

Her Mom, Nick and Riya were currently midway through introductions while the twins and Emily were looking on with interest at the newcomer.

Caroline mouthed what looked suspiciously like ‘hot’ to her sister and they both grinned.

Riya glanced up and caught Andy’s eye.

Andy forced herself to relax as her Mom followed Riya’s line of sight and gave Andy a questioning look.

The server stepped up to her and offered her a glass of champagne which she took gratefully as Nigel placed a placating hand on her elbow and picked up a glass for himself.

‘You’re officially on my shit list,’ she said to Nigel, smiling gracefully, like a wildcat ready to rip the face off its prey. She took a swig from her glass.

Miranda entered the space, stalling on the threshold, her face paling slightly when she spotted Riya. She was good, Andy would give her that much. It took merely a second for her to regain control of her features. She walked over carefully to join them, plucking up a glass of champagne as she passed the server. ‘Nigel,’ she said in greeting, tilting her glass in his direction, ‘you didn’t mention Ms. Reddy was the friend attending this evening,’ she said with practiced nonchalance, avoiding Andy’s disbelieving look.

‘Oh, didn’t he?’ Andy said, ‘I believe she’s from San Francisco,’ she gritted out. ‘Weren’t you just there in November?’

Miranda glanced across at Riya. ‘I think you’re right,’ she replied carefully, aware they had an audience as she placed a hand on Andy’s forearm, giving it a warning squeeze.

‘It’ll be so fun for us all to have dinner together—in close quarters—tonight,’ Andy replied, ‘perhaps we can discuss how you met, or why?’

Nigel winced, visibly.

‘Andrea,’ Miranda said in warning as Riya moved away from Andy’s Mom and began making her way toward them.

‘Miranda,’ Riya said on approach, her smile warm.

Too warm, Andy thought.

‘Riya,’ Miranda replied, tone friendly as she leaned in for an air kiss, grasping the other woman’s hands in greeting. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘You too,’ Riya said, squeezing Miranda’s hands before releasing them and stepping back.

‘This is Andrea,’ Miranda said, introducing her.

‘We’ve met, briefly,’ Riya said with an amused smile in Andy’s direction, sharp eyes quietly assessing. ‘It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, so to speak,’ she said, casting a glance at Miranda before returning her attention to Andy. ‘I saw your interview on John Oliver,’ she continued, ‘quite the viral sensation.’

Riya was employing the full charm offensive and Andy was never one to be outdone. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, ‘although not quite as illustrious as a single tweet resulting in a catastrophic drop in share prices for one less than scrupulous tech company.’

Riya nodded her head in acknowledgement, clearly not one to feign humility.

Oh yes, she could see clearly why Riya and Miranda got along so damn well.

‘How long are you in town?’ Andy queried with as much casualness as she could muster. It was starting to feel like a boardroom meeting where everyone was playing at extreme politeness whilst waiting to knife their competitor.

‘Just a couple of days,’ Riya said, before adding, entirely unnecessarily, ‘Business, not pleasure.’ Her eyes sparkled knowingly.

Oh, that does it—

‘Miranda!’ Nick exclaimed, swooping in and breaking the tension of the moment.

Andy pulled her eyes away, only to spot Emily and her Mom watching the exchange closely, their heads together as they spoke quietly. They both looked far too intrigued for their own good.

As Miranda embraced Nick affectionately, Andy returned her eyes to Riya. The other woman met her gaze, the humour in her eyes clear. She was enjoying this.

‘Tell me a little more about your work, Andrea,’ Riya enquired, giving her no room for escape.

‘I wouldn’t want to bore you. It’s not quite as fascinating as robots, I’m sure.’

‘On the contrary. Miranda speaks so highly of you, so I’m interested as to what keeps her so…engaged.’

Andy ran a hand down her exposed chest before adjusting the lapel of her blazer. ‘A number of things, I should think,’ Andy replied knowingly.

Riya smirked in response. ‘She does have excellent taste, doesn’t she?’ she replied as she adjusted her necklace with a gleam in her eye.

It took Andy a moment to register the silence and she glanced up to see five sets of eyes on them.

The twins were otherwise engaged with a plate of appetisers.

Andy coughed lightly in embarrassment.

She was saved from any further discussion by the caterer stepping out onto the deck and giving Miranda a subtle nod.

Miranda's eyes passed over the two of them. 'Let's move this inside, shall we?' she said mildly.

'Oh, please, let's,' Emily snickered.

Chapter Text

Miranda was going to murder Nigel, and it was going to be slow and painful.

Andrea was leading the way inside, everyone else following, curious glances being thrown around after the little performance outside.

‘So, who is she exactly?’ Miranda heard Emily whisper to the twins, the gleeful curiosity clear in her voice.

Miranda rolled her eyes heavenward before following, Riya falling into step with her.

‘Apologies for the surprise,’ Riya murmured, the amusement in her tone hard to miss. 

‘Hmm,’ Miranda replied, not entirely sure who to be more vexed with—Andrea for her clear overreaction or Riya for playfully baiting her.

They passed into the hall, laughter echoing back at them from Emily and Elizabeth.

‘In my defence,’ Riya continued, ‘Nigel did assure me I was more than welcome.’

Miranda’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the back of the bald head in question. ‘Yes, well, he was a little light on the details.’

Riya chuckled.

‘Yes, it’s all very funny.’

‘Oh, come now, Miranda. What’s a little light competition between friends?’

Miranda flashed her a warning look. ‘You know where I stand on this.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Riya laughed airily, waving her off, ‘but are you sure Andrea does?’ she added under her breath.

Miranda glanced up to catch Andrea watching their approach, her expression carefully guarded but eyes bright with anger. She felt heat spread down her spine and settle low in her stomach. There was a possessiveness there that she rarely saw. Andrea was jealous. Extremely so.

It had been quite some time since she had seen her look like that. ‘Careful,’ Miranda warned gently, allowing an amused smile to grace her lips as she guided Riya in the direction of the dining room.

‘I might say the same to you,’ Riya replied. ‘You shouldn’t play with a woman’s feelings, Miranda. Someone might get the wrong idea,’ she continued playfully, eyes glancing in Andrea’s direction. ‘You failed to mention how stunning she was, by the way.’

‘Hmm,’ Miranda conceded, taking a moment to truly appreciate Andrea's beauty.

Riya turned her attention back to Miranda. ‘You're a lucky woman, Miranda Priestly. I was hoping that perhaps she'd run off since I saw you last, but alas,' she sighed dramatically, a good-natured smile on her face as she gave Miranda's forearm a gentle squeeze before passing into the dining room.

Miranda's neck warmed at the complement. There was something intoxicating about being the object of two women's affection. A part of her wished that she had taken more time to...enjoy herself when she was younger. If times had been different, perhaps she may have.

Andrea stalked towards her and Miranda let her eyes drift down her chest, perfectly framed by the lapels of her blazer, décolletage still untouched by the ravages of time. She felt a familiar twisting in her abdomen, her thighs clenched against their will.

Andrea, to her credit, was maintaining excellent control of her face. Her eyes, however, could have melted steel. ‘Having fun?’ she practically growled under her breath.

Miranda felt the heat continue to rise. No, she hadn't missed anything, not really. Even after all these years there was no one who got under her skin the way this woman did. ‘Quite,’ she replied as they entered the room. She knew how the response would infuriate and she watched as the colour began to rise in Andrea’s face. She was glorious when she was angry.

Miranda put a placating hand on her back as they made their way to their seats, their eyes were locked on one another as the servers moved to pour the wine.

‘Is it your toast, or mine?’ Miranda said playfully as moved to pick up her glass.

Andrea reached for glass, her expression mildly outraged. ‘You’re enjoying this,’ she said accusingly.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said as she felt all eyes on them.

‘So, Riya,’ Elizabeth began, her tone sounding far too clever as it cut through the silence in the room, ‘how exactly do you and Miranda know one another?’

Of all the—

‘We met a few years ago,’ Riya began, shooting her an apologetic look as she did so, before turning her attention back to Elizabeth, ‘at another dinner party, in fact,’ she said, her words careful.

Miranda felt Andrea tense next to her. They spoke of it rarely. Miranda didn’t like think of that day, let alone relive it. Gallows humour had helped them through the worst of it, but those first few hours would forever haunt her.

‘We’ve crossed paths here and there over the years,’ Riya continued, eyes on Elizabeth. ‘Surpringly, we have quite a lot in common, even if she works in a…less…academic field.’

Caroline snorted audibly.

It would appear the complements were to be short lived.

Miranda resisted an eyeroll. ‘Ms Reddy believes AI is going to strip us all of our jobs. Perhaps if they could find a computer that doesn’t fail when you need it the most, I’d have a little more faith.’

‘User error?’ Elizabeth shot at Miranda with a faint smirk.

‘Says the woman who couldn’t get the refrigerator to make ice yesterday,’ Miranda drawled, before picking up her wine glass and taking a healthy sip.

Elizabeth waved her off. ‘You two seem to have quite the…chemistry. Anything...historical there?’

Miranda glanced out the corner of her eye to catch Andrea’s white knuckled grip on her glass as she glared at her mother.

Emily was practically preening, even as Nick winced and Nigel tried his best not to laugh.

Caroline and Cassidy, on the other hand, were failing exceptionally, their snickers audible.

‘Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like good sport to compete with a near-dead woman,’ Riya sighed, laying it on just thick enough that no one flinched at the mention of Andrea’s accident. ‘Nigel did his best, though.’

Andrea put her glass down with a touch more force than necessary.

‘Don’t drag me into this!’ Nigel said.

‘You dragged yourself in,’ Andrea growled, half out of her seat.

Miranda set a placating hand on Andrea’s forearm as the servers entered with the entrée and began laying it in front of the guests.

‘Perhaps a change of topic is in order?’ Miranda said mildly as Andrea sat back down.

‘Please,’ Andrea added.

Elizabeth looked across at her daughter. ‘Oh, enough with that face Andrea Elizabeth. I warned you before you went traipsing off! Did you expect her to be single forever?’

Caroline and Cassidy stared at their grandmother. ‘Was that a…compliment?’ Cassidy said in awe.

Emily snorted at that. ‘Hell will freeze over first,’ she said, picking up her cutlery.

‘I will never understand the world’s obsession,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘She would drive the sanest person up the wall. You could have done me a favour Riya. If you’d been a bit quicker I might not have had to put up with her until my dying day. Or hers.’

‘That’s more like it,’ Caroline said, guffawing like a yokel. Miranda narrowed her eyes at her daughters, noting their overly relaxed statures.  

‘Nothing like dinner and a show,’ Nigel said mildly as he reached for his knife and fork.

‘Oh, Elizabeth. Are you sure you don’t want to relocate?’ Emily said as she began cutting her ravioli into sections, laughter dancing in her eyes.

‘I think we prefer a plane ride between us, don’t we Miranda?’ Elizabeth said.

‘It keeps the homicide squad at a distance,’ Miranda confirmed, hawk-like eyes still pinned on her twins.

Elizabeth caught her eye and made a gesture like she was smoking something. Oh, for the love of—

‘Perhaps a toast is in order?’ Nigel said, quickly getting to his feet. ‘Shall I do the honours?’

‘The girls,’ Miranda said under her breath to Andrea.

Andrea’s eyes followed her in the direction of the twins who were obliviously inhaling their food. ‘Not again,’ she groaned as Nigel began to speak.

Miranda knew what she was thinking. Last time the girls had eaten an entire charcuterie board without stopping to breathe. It was like every time they were together they reverted to being teenagers again.

‘To the ladies of the house,' Nigel said, 'thank you for hosting. It’s not often we all find ourselves in the same city, or country even so to have you all in the same room is…well…certainly an event not soon forgotten,’ he said, eyes skirting to Miranda, Andrea and Riya. ‘So, a toast, to an eventful evening ahead,’ he said as he raised his glass.

‘To an eventful evening,’ everyone echoed.

All eyes turned towards her. 'Thank you, Nigel. And regardless of how eventful it becomes, I expect you all out of my house by the end of the night.'

As laughter rippled through the room, Riya caught her eye and titled her glass in her direction, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Eventful indeed.

Chapter Text

The servers stepped in and cleared the first course, topping off glasses as they went. As Nigel continued to work his magic, Andy thankfully found herself out from under the scrutiny of everyone at the table.

She’d heard the story about the Dutch designer, his assistant, and a missing bag of coke once before so she turned her attention to Miranda. ‘Do you remember all their stash spots?’ she asked as she watched the Caroline lean over to whisper something in Cassidy’s ear.

Andy’s eyes narrowed. Cassidy caught the gaze, her face morphing into something partway between a wince and a grin.

Miranda didn’t take her eyes off Nigel. ‘Don’t waste your time. Cassidy will be vaping,’ she said, half-distracted.

‘How are you more in the know than me?’

Miranda turned to face her, eyes glinting dangerously. ‘That sounded suspiciously close to calling me old.’

‘And that,’ Andy said, tilting her head in Riya’s direction, ‘looked suspiciously like you might want to get a rise out of me.’

‘You were doing a perfectly fine job of that without my input,’ Miranda noted.

Andy raised a perfectly sculpted brow in response. ‘Secret dinners in San Francisco?’ she replied, tone clipped.

A barely visible wince crossed Miranda’s face. ‘They were not secret.’

The servers set the second course in front of them and Andy thanked them before lifting her fork.

‘I certainly haven’t heard mention of them before. Not once, in fact’ Andy noted, stabbing her fork into the beautifully constructed scallop dish that had landed in front of her.

‘Andr—’ Miranda began before a crash resounded across the table.

‘Oh, Christ!’ Emily cried out as she got to her feet. ‘Caroline!’ she followed up, ‘this is Simone Rocha, Jesus!’

Caroline was stock still, red wine splattered across her face, courtesy of her dropped glass. It looked like she'd been about to switch out to white for the course.

Andy sighed as she stared at the twins, their faces identical to those they wore as teenagers when they had been caught up to no good.

‘Oh for the love of—’ Miranda began.

Both Riya and her mother were doing their utmost best not to laugh, their bodies shaking in mirth. Nick had failed outright, his chuckles ringing out across the table.

Nigel plucked his napkin up and handed it to Emily wordlessly.

Andy took in the scene and pinched her brow as everything descended into chaos.

‘Oh shit, Emily, I’m so sorry,’ Caroline said as Cassidy descended into giggles, almost falling out of her chair.

Miranda got to her feet and rounded the table, hands landing squarely on the twins shoulders and Andy felt herself transported back in time. ‘Kitchen. Now,’ she growled as the girls winced and got to their feet, following their mother out.

‘Some things never change,’ Nigel observed, his lips curled in mirth.

Riya and Elizabeth cracked, the snickers soon descending into full laughter as they took in Emily’s state.

Nick moved to start cleaning up the spill as a server raced to assist.

Emily patted the front of her garment, still cursing. She threw the napkin down in disgust and looked around. ‘I’m glad you lot think it’s bloody funny,’ she said before throwing herself down in her chair. ‘Don’t suppose you have anything I’ll actually fit into?’ she threw in Andy’s direction.

Andy sighed, getting to her feet. All she had wanted was a quiet get together among friends. She should have known better. Nothing was ever quiet with these people.

‘I’d kill to see her in some sweats. You don’t have a Juicy Couture tracksuit hidden away up there do you?’ Nigel said with a snort.

‘Oh, hah-hah,’ Emily said as flicked wine droplets in his direction.

‘Em!’ Andy cried out in protest as Nigel dove for cover.

‘Armani!’ he cried out.

‘What is this? Battle of the luxury brands?’ Andy said in exasperation as she moved to pull Emily away from the spill. ‘Come upstairs, let me get you something to wear.’

‘Is it always like this?’ Andy heard Riya ask as they ascended the stairs, Emily still cursing.

‘Oh, always,’ she heard her mother confirm. That absolutely was not true.

Emily stared down at the gold two piece, face like thunder as she gripped the bannister. ‘I’m going to kill them!’

‘I’m sure Miranda’s already done so on your behalf,’ Andy said.

‘Speaking of Miranda,’ Emily said slyly, the Rocha suddenly forgotten, ‘who is Riya Reddy and why haven’t we met her before?’

Andy felt her face tighten before she could get control of it.

‘Oh, you’re positively fuming,’ Emily said with glee.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Andy said, storming in the direction of one of the guest rooms, which had inevitably become an extension of the their main closet.

‘You don’t want to talk about Miranda’s mystery lover suddenly appearing on your doorstep?’ Emily pressed, tone teasing.

‘They weren’t—they didn’t—’ Andy said.

‘Are you sure?’ Emily sing-songed as she waltzed past Andy and pulled open the closet, flicking through the selections.

‘You’re not helping. You know that, right?’

‘Your children just ruined one of my favourite new pieces of couture.’

‘Take what you want from the closet,’ Andy waved.

‘Oh don’t worry, I intend to,’ Emily said as she pulled out a Grace Ling maxi in burgundy, the signature dagger glinting in the light from the neckline. ‘Christ, this will do. At least it’s the same colour as the wine. Do you have an ankle boot?’

‘In your size?’ Andy said.

‘Does Miranda?’ Emily said innocently.

Andy knew that look. ‘No, Em, absolutely not.’

‘You never did tell her about getting pissed and parading around the walk-in, in all of her couture, did you?’

‘Do I look like I have a death wish?’ Andy hissed. ‘She’d flay us alive.’

Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Fine,’ she said as she shimmied out of the skirt and turned her back to Andy, demanding assistance. ‘Thank god I wore black pumps.’

Andy helped her out of her the top before turning her back.

‘God, you’re such a prude Andrea,’ Emily snorted as she dressed and hung her ensemble on the now vacant hanger. ‘I expect you two to find someone to restore this,’ she said, hanging the Rocha up.

Andy said nothing as they left the room. The colour should not have worked with Emily’s hair, but somehow she pulled it off. Even after all of these years, Andy envied the Brit’s ability to throw together an outfit together. Sure, Andy had improved a great deal over the years but she would never truly understand fashion the way Miranda, Emily and Nigel did.

As they walked back into the room, Andy noted the girls had returned, their signature faux-apologetic faces in place. How Miranda still fell for this she would never know.

Andy took her seat. ‘They look about as sorry as Hitler,’ she noted, interrupting Miranda’s conversation with Nigel who had, at some stage, bumped Elizabeth from her right.

‘It’s been handled,’ Miranda said.

Andy had her doubts but decided to keep it to herself. She looked around at table occupants, full wine glasses having dwindled quickly. ‘Please tell me you’re sending the caterer and her staff home.’

‘Once the mains are dropped,’ Miranda confirmed, and as though summoned, they appeared, plates dropped efficiently, wine bottles placed on the table for later use and a nod of thanks in Miranda’s direction as they vacated.

‘That must have been one hell of a tip,’ Nigel said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen staff look happy in your presence.’

Nigel waited for a reaction from Andy, but when he got none, he pulled out the full charm offensive. ‘Oh, come on Six, you can’t hate me forever.’

‘Watch me,’ she said waspishly.

‘Careful, Nigel,’ Miranda warned as Nick approached and placed his hands on Nigel’s shoulders.

‘Has he apologised yet?’ Nick asked Andy.

‘Of course not, he learned from the best,’ Andy said, throwing a look Miranda’s way.

‘Come eat,’ Nick instructed Nigel, coaxing him to his feet. ‘I’ll send him back later,’ he said with an apologetic smile in Andy’s direction.

She turned her attention back to the food, absorbing the ebb and flow of the conversation around them. ‘You were saying, earlier?’ she segued as she picked up her fork and pushed at the meal in front of her.

Miranda picked up her glass and swirled. ‘I said, there was no secret.’

‘But you chose not to mention it?’

‘You were away when I got back from that trip,’ Miranda reminded her. ‘I don’t know that we ever discussed it at all,’ she finished as everyone settled into their previous seats and the conversation turned, appetizingly, to childbirth as Emily lamented the state of her hips.

'Must we?' Nigel said in protest.

'Yes we bloody must! I was a size zero, Nigel.'

'Yes darling, in your twenties.'

Emily waved her glass threateningly in his direction.

'I know I wasn't invited, but I really would enjoy an invitation to the next one,' Riya noted in Andy and Miranda's direction.

'Over my dead body,' Andy replied sweetly.