Wedding Season

by Katie Fforde

  ‘Is that really possible?'

  ‘Anything is possible if you're prepared to pay, but you're not. Your guests can buy their own, bio-degradable confetti,' she stated crisply, hoping to end that topic of conversation.

  ‘Yes,' said Lily meekly. 'What about the dress? I know we should be saving but now it's happening I want it all to be so special.'

  ‘I know, Lily, and it will be. But listen, the average amount people spend on their dress is just under a thousand pounds, while the ones you had in your scrapbook – as I said, five grand minimum.' There was a hiccup and Sarah guessed that Lily was deciding whether or not to cry. 'But there are all sorts of ways round that. You could go to a sample sale, for example, if there are any on at this time of year. Or hire one? Have a second-hand dress?’

  'No! I don't want to go down the aisle in a dress someone else has worn before. It would be unlucky.'

  ‘Oh,' said Sarah. 'So does that put my other suggestion out of the question?'

  ‘What do you mean?'

  ‘That you wear Mum's dress? I've got it, in a box. You could have it altered to fit you, and update it.'

  ‘Mum's dress.’

  Sarah couldn't quite tell from her voice how she'd reacted to this. 'Well, think about it. But don't worry, Lily, I can organise you a really cheap – I mean economical -wedding, as long as you're prepared to compromise.'

  ‘I am. I'll have to.'

  ‘Then it will all be fine. Now tell me about me becoming an aunt.'

  ‘Oh, the baby! Well, it's very small, Sarah. Hardly bigger than a tadpole.’

  For a tadpole, it was creating an awful lot of fuss.

  Chapter Eight

  The wedding fair was in a castle of white stone, converted into a huge hotel. It was, Sarah recognised, the perfect location for a large wedding, and she hoped Lily didn't suddenly yearn for it. The hotel had probably thought, reasonably enough, that once inside its spacious and undoubtedly romantic rooms, many of the attendees would fall in love with the setting and want their wedding there. Experience told her this would only be possible for those planning a long engagement. As a wedding venue, it would be booked up for at least two years.

  The fine weather that had blessed Ashlyn's wedding continued and the festive mood of the day was enhanced as couples, groups of young women, and the occasional mother-and-daughter combination entered the building, full of plans and ideas.

  Champagne or orange juice greeted everyone as they entered. There was a tray of chocolates too. Sarah took an orange juice, biting her tongue on her anxiety about Lily opting for the champagne. However much it went against the grain, she mustn't be a killjoy today.

  ‘Isn't this exciting!' Lily said, skipping a little. 'It's like actually being at a wedding already!’

  Sarah smiled slightly. When she'd first started out in business, she'd taken stands at wedding fairs, but for a while now word of mouth and her website had got her all her custom. This was a relief. The amount of talking that went on during the long day didn't equate to enough brides needing her services to make it worth the effort.

  For a moment, Lily hovered in the reception area, undecided where to start, then she pulled Sarah's arm. 'Chocolate fountains! Come on!’

  Just the thought of liquid chocolate and wedding dresses in the same room made Sarah's heart quiver with apprehension but she didn't comment as Lily led the way.

  ‘Look at all that chocolate!' said Lily ecstatically. 'Isn't it heaven? It reminds me of when we melted down all our Easter eggs and ate them with a spoon.’

  Sarah chuckled. 'You were sick.'

  ‘So I was!' Lily remembered happily. 'Sick as a canary!’

  The woman in charge of this liquid heaven seemed confused by this image for a moment, then she handed them both strawberries. 'Have a taste,' she said.

  ‘Oh, Sarah, this is so gorgeous! I must have this!'

  ‘It might be better at the hen night,' said Sarah. 'As a bride, you shouldn't get near it, it would be awful if you got it on your dress.'

  ‘True,' said Lily, taking another generous strawberry's worth. 'And Dirk's mother wouldn't approve.’

  At last Sarah was able to lead her sister away, but only after she'd tried every fruit, sweet and biscuit, coated in chocolate.

  ‘The chocolate's really nice,' said Lily gaily while they were still in earshot. 'I thought it might be a bit like that chocolate they sell in sex shops.’

  Sarah was about to ask how Lily knew about such things but then decided she'd rather not know. 'Well, the woman did tell us it was only as good as the chocolate you used.’

  They got past the painted stones as place names, the harpist (although Sarah was tempted), any amount of personalised helium balloons, several florists and a false nail stand unscathed, except by leaflets and cards. But when Lily saw a rack of wedding dresses, she escaped from Sarah's vice-like grip and sprinted towards them.

  ‘Aren't these the most heavenly dresses you have ever seen in your entire life?' asked Lily, when Sarah at last caught up with her.

  Sarah, who'd seen many more wedding dresses than Lily, said, 'Mm.'

  ‘If you'd like to try any on,' said the smiling assistant, 'please let me help you.'

  ‘Oh yes, please!' said Lily enthusiastically. 'Can I try that one? I'm a size ten.’

  Sarah cleared her throat. 'At the risk of sounding like our dear departed mother, I think you should go and wash your hands.’

  Lily looked at her hands. 'Oh my God! So sorry! Covered in chocolate! I'll be back!’

  Lily had many skills, and one of them was being able to find a Ladies in a completely strange place without needing to ask. It was as if she was tuned in to the smell of handwash and hot-air driers, and could track them down, like a bee scenting its hive.

  While she was gone, Sarah perched on a little sofa, resting her feet that were still aching a bit from Ashlyn's wedding. She didn't want to engage with the woman in charge of the dresses because she knew Lily wasn't going to buy one, however much she might want to.

  Lily skipped back a few minutes later smelling of something floral. 'There was a woman selling personalised perfumes,' she explained. 'Couldn't resist. Right, dresses. Can I try that one, please?'

  ‘Perfect,' said the woman, handing it to her. 'This dress only looks really good on more slender brides. Call me when you need help with the buttons. Oh, and there's a zip at the side, too.’

  Sarah stayed sitting while Lily was in the changing room, putting her perfect but pregnant size ten into a garment which was so fitted, even a fairy cake would show if you ate one, let alone a five-month pregnancy.

  How, Sarah wondered, had a woman with her history got to be a wedding planner when she was so cynical about marriage? She didn't often have time to ask herself this rather important question, but while twenty pearl buttons were hiking in her sister's tiny waist with the aid of at least two other women, it seemed the perfect opportunity.

  Her own utter disillusion formed her attitude to marriage, that was straightforward enough. But why encourage other women to commit to men who probably wouldn't commit back? It really went back to that holiday job she'd had as a waitress, working for a friend of her mother. She'd only been expected to hand round trays of nibbles, but the lack of organisation in the kitchen had maddened her. There was an industrial dishwasher, but none of the women was willing to work out how it operated except her. Then she had to organise a system of plates in, plates out. Her bossy streak emerged.

  Later, after university, she got a job in public relations and events management and one thing led to another. She found she had a flair for wedding planning and, ironically, helping to create the special day for others took her mind off her own heartache until it became only an unpleasant memory – although it had obviously scarred her for life in terms of ever daring to love again. She decided, when she had her first set of business cards printed, that while she couldn't do anything about the happy-ever-after aspect of weddings, she could create a dream day
for every bride. It wasn't long before she realised dreams were a lot harder to create than anyone might think, but it was still her aim, and when it all went perfectly, she found it enormously satisfying. Now she only hoped she could help her sister's dream along towards perfection.

  When Lily finally emerged, there was practically a round of applause from the other assistants and the few soon-to be brides who were there. She looked stunning, there was no getting away from it.

  ‘Oh!' said the assistant. 'I've gone all teary. You look so lovely!'

  ‘Well, Sarah?' said Lily. 'Isn't the dress for me?’

  She swallowed. Lily did look beautiful but Sarah's practical side came to the fore. She bit her lip and summoned all the tact she was famous for. 'Well,' she said cautiously. 'If you waited until next year to get married you could have that dress. It would look gorgeous.'

  ‘Why won't it look gorgeous now?' asked Lily, frowning a little as she turned this way and that in front of the glass. 'It's probably the shoes.' She waggled a bare foot. 'I need some heels.'

  ‘It's not that,' said Sarah quickly. 'It looks wonderful now, of course it does, but…' She paused, not wishing to announce her sister's condition to the world. 'It might look better next year, that's all.’

  Lily got the point. 'Oh! You mean because I'm pregnant, I shouldn't have this style?’

  Sarah caught the eye of the saleswoman, who giggled. 'Well, I wasn't going to say that, but it's what I meant.'

  ‘The baby is only tiny! Just a few centimetres!' protested Lily.

  ‘But unless you're getting married tomorrow, you won't manage in anything as sleek as this,' put in the saleswoman. 'An empire line would be more suitable.’

  'But I've always had such a tiny waist! I want to show it off!' Lily protested again.

  ‘Well, you can,' said Sarah, 'but you have to have the baby first!' She didn't suggest that her sister's waist might not be quite so tiny after she'd had the baby because (a) it was cruel and (b) her sister was the sort of woman whose figure would more than likely just ping back into shape a day after her milk came in. Maddening, but true.

  Lily shook her head. 'Not possible. I'd better get out of this. I am so disappointed!' She scowled at Sarah as if it were somehow her sister's fault she was pregnant. She stomped back to the changing room, fiddling with the buttons as she went.

  When Lily re-emerged later, some of her sunniness had returned, especially when Sarah said, 'Honestly, there are lots of fabulous styles that not only hide the fact you're pregnant, but look heavenly as well.’

  Secretly, Sarah wasn't as certain about this as she sounded, but there was no point in spoiling all Lily's pleasure in her wedding preparations. After her first dismal attempt at matrimony, when Lily had worn jeans and wild flowers in her hair and it had all gone horribly wrong, the girl was allowed her dreams. And no one had been more delighted than Sarah when Lily had introduced her to Dirk.

  ‘Let's get some more champagne,' said Lily, all smiles now. 'I'm thirsty!'

  ‘You really shouldn't be drinking, you're pregnant,' said Sarah, but she said it to herself.

  *

  At lunchtime, which they ate in the conservatory that must have been tacked on to the castle long before anyone ever tried to stop anachronistic additions, Lily produced a book.

  ‘Look, it tells us here when you have to do everything. It's a timetable.’

  Sarah nibbled a cucumber sandwich. 'I actually do know all that stuff. It's my job.’

  Lily took no notice. 'I think I'm quite well ahead. We've got the venue, after all.'

  ‘It's a church, Lils, I think you should call it that.'

  ‘And Dirk's mother wants a marquee in the garden for the reception. I'd much rather go to a hotel…' She glanced up at her sister, who shook her head. 'OK, I'll go with the marquee. Did they have one in Four Weddings and a Funeral?'

  ‘I'm sure they did.' As this film was so often mentioned to Sarah she realised she should probably watch it, but since its hero bore more than a passing resemblance to her ex, she'd always avoided Hugh Grant films.

  ‘Ooh, it's also got a place for the budget. How much do you think I should spend on my dress?'

  ‘Depends. You still haven't told me how much your total budget is. There's no point in allocating a thousand pounds if that's all you've got for the whole thing.'

  ‘Mm.' It was Lily's turn to be pensive now. 'Actually, I think that may be our budget. I should ask Dirk.’

  ‘You should definitely ask Dirk. But don't worry too much. As I said, I'm sure Dad'll contribute something. And I'll do everything I can to keep costs down.'

  ‘Fireworks!' said Lily, sounding a bit like one. 'They're on the list!'

  ‘It doesn't mean you have to have them. Look, read it carefully. It also mentions chocolate fountains, and we've decided you could have that at the hen night. Everyone can chip in for that so it won't cost you much.'

  ‘Children's entertainer,' mused Lily. 'That sounds a nice idea. I don't actually know anyone with children yet, but there are bound to be one or two.’

  'If there are only one or two, you won't need an entertainer. You have to cut your cloak according to your cloth,' Sarah said gently.

  ‘A cloak? Will I need one? It's not on the list.'

  ‘Oh, Lily! It's just an expression!’

  Lily threw down her vol-au-vent. 'Oh. I really want one now.’

  Sarah sighed and extracted the book from her sister's hands. 'You don't need that silly list! I can tell you everything you need, and if you want a cloak, you can have it. But it won't be all that cold in August – we hope. We'll need to save money where we can.’

  Lily collapsed like a deflated doll. 'Oh God, this is all so difficult! I want a lovely fairy-tale wedding and I can't have one because we haven't got enough money.'

  ‘You can have a fairy-tale wedding, you just have to be careful, and clever with how you spend your money. I've done one or two weddings on a shoestring and they were brilliant. All it really needs is for you to look lovely, and you will, even if you wear a bin-liner – no, I'm not suggesting that – and for Dirk to look handsome. And you're both such a good-looking couple, you're bound to do that.’

  Although Sarah said a lot of this to cheer Lily up, she did genuinely mean it. 'I bet you have a beautiful baby, too.'

  ‘And will you babysit sometimes? I can't bear the thought of never being able to go out.'

  ‘Of course I will. I'll love it. I'll spoil it to death.'

  ‘Does that mean you'll buy it a pram and stuff like that? Then we can spend a bit more on the wedding.'

  ‘Lily, go and talk to Dad about all this. In the old days the bride's parents paid for everything. Although money is tight I'm sure he's got a savings account or something for just this sort of thing. He didn't pay for your last wedding, after all.'

  'No he didn't,' said Lily.

  ‘And of course, I'll chip in too. You don't have to have imported flowers, smoked salmon, or unlimited champagne. I'll draw up a proper list and we can talk it through. We'll make it wonderful, don't you worry.’

  Lily smiled beatifically. 'All right, I won't.’

  A moment later Sarah realised by telling Lily not to worry, she'd just have to worry herself instead. But then that was what she was there for – and always had been.

  ‘Shall we go and look at honeymoons now?' suggested Lily.

  ‘That time of year, it'll have to be Europe – all the exotic places have hurricanes in August. Another way to save money.’

  *

  When Sarah had left Lily at the railway station at Finchcombe, just in time for the only train that would take her back on a Sunday, she drove home considering a career in funeral management. She was weddinged out. She never wanted to see another piece of tulle, a flower arrangement, a bit of confetti, or a hand-engraved champagne flute. No, she said to herself, a career in the very opposite direction was what she wanted now. She realised she would have to talk to her father about a contribution to
Lily's wedding but that wouldn't be hard. Although she'd have to help Lily a lot with regard to suppliers and how to make economies, with any luck she wouldn't actually have to plan it.

  Later that evening she washed away the cares of a very long day. The shower pouring over her head and body was blissful. Every time she used it she blessed the business that allowed her to put one in. Maybe she did like weddings after all, and funeral directors (she thought as she squirted shampoo into her hand) worked very unsocial hours sometimes.

  The phone ringing penetrated her aquatic bliss. She turned off the shower and found a towel, half hoping the answerphone would kick in. Sunday evenings should be sacrosanct, shouldn't they?

  Her answerphone obviously felt the same and refused to operate. She got to the telephone, clutching her towel, hoping it was Lily or someone she didn't have to be professional for.

  ‘Hi,' said a female voice. 'Is that Sarah Stratford? The wedding planner?’

  Oh. Definitely work. She hitched up the towel, wondering how anyone could ever want a videophone. 'Yes.' Did she want to admit that? Still, too late now.

  ‘I'm Mandy Joseph, Carrie Condy's assistant.’

  Sarah trawled through her mental checklist of names she should instinctively know. Mandy Joseph had said it as if it was one she expected to be recognised. 'Wow,' Sarah replied, to buy herself more time.

  ‘You'll have read that she's just got engaged?'

  ‘Oh yes! Yes.' Now Sarah spoke with more confidence. The American actress, of course. She had read that Carrie Condy had become engaged to an equally beautiful and up-and-coming young actor. 'Oh wow!' she said once more, with feeling this time.

  ‘Well, she heard about you from a friend, and wants you to arrange the wedding.'

  ‘Wow!' said Sarah for the third time. 'That's fantastic! Who did she hear about me from?' Which of her clients could possibly know Carrie Condy? she asked herself frantically.