Wedding Season

by Katie Fforde

  Then the phone rang and all three women jumped. Fenella flew to it and the others listened anxiously from the moment they heard Fenella say, 'Are you sure you're all right?’

  It could have been Sarah saying something bad had happened to her.

  Fenella's side of the conversation was tantalisingly brief and it was only after a tense few minutes that Bron and Elsa discovered what the disaster was.

  ‘I knew it!' said Fenella, her hands on her temples, her eyes shut. 'That was the florist. She's had an accident. She can't come. She's OK but the van's undrivable and the flowers are all mashed to pieces.’

  There was a moment's horrified silence. Then Elsa said, 'Phone Sarah. She'll know of someone else. Don't worry. We can sort this out.'

  ‘Yes,' agreed Bron. 'We're a team. We can fix anything.’

  They realised this was more of a disaster for Fenella than for them. Flowers were vital if Somerby was to really shine. If Celeb magazine took photos of it looking less than its glorious best, the wonderful publicity of a celebrity wedding would be completely wasted. Not to mention the fact that Carrie would be upset with Sarah.

  ‘OK,' Elsa went on, taking control. `I'm calling Sarah. Shall. I tell her or shall you?' she asked Fenella as she waited for it to connect.

  ‘I will,' said Fenella and took the proffered phone. 'Come on, Sarah! Answer! Damn, it's gone to voicemail.'

  ‘Leave a message. Let her know how urgent it is!' said Bron.

  When Fenella handed Elsa back her phone Bron got up to make more tea.

  ‘OK,' said Elsa, 'worst case scenario, we have no florist, so we have to do it. What are the most important areas?'

  ‘The chapel,' said Fenella. 'Bron, your fake-cake trees mean we don't need too much in the dining room. At least, we can get away with less there. Have either of you done any flower-arranging?’

  They shook their heads. 'But we're both artistic and practical, we can do stuff if we have to,' said Bron. 'We can't let Sarah down. Or Carrie. We'll make it work somehow.’

  Fenella's phone started playing 'Für Elise'. 'Sarah? Thank God!' She explained the problem, murmured uhhuh a few times and scribbled down a number.

  ‘She's given me the name of another florist. She did a wedding you guys were at in June? Sukie someone?'

  ‘I don't think we met ever, but the flowers at Ashlyn's wedding were fantastic,' said Elsa, a little disappointed at not having to create floral extravaganzas – she liked a challenge.

  ‘I hope she can do it,' said Bron. 'She's probably at some other wedding or other, even as we speak.'

  ‘We'll find out in a minute,' said Fenella. 'It's ringing. Sukie? You're not in the middle of anything, are you? We've got a major emergency!’

  As most of Fenella's conversation seemed to be directions with the occasional floral reference, Bron and Elsa gathered that Sukie was on her way. 'We could have done it,' said Elsa. 'Between us.'

  ‘Not without flowers,' said Bron. 'I don't know if you've noticed but there isn't much growing currently. The garden obviously hasn't reached the top of the to-do list yet.'

  ‘OK,' said Fenella, slamming her phone down on the table. 'She's on her way – sounds terribly nice, by the way – but she says she probably won't be able to buy enough flowers without driving for miles. She'll get what she can but we've got to get as much ivy as possible, to stretch them. We have got plenty. Thank goodness Carrie wanted traditional country arrangements and nothing that needed strelitzias or anything. Bird of Paradise flowers,' she explained to her confused audience.

  At this moment James appeared, looking for tea and toast. 'Oh, James, the florist has had an accident,' said Bron.

  ‘Yes.' Fenella turned to him. 'You were so brilliant with the fake trees, do you think you could gather ivy for us? The florist needs it to bulk up the flowers. We haven't got much else.'

  ‘I wouldn't say that,' said James taking in the situation. 'Obviously the garden has been neglected for quite some time, but if you're looking for big, showy things, there are some wonderful acanthus – bear's breeches…' Sensing that his audience was still in the dark, he went on, 'They've got huge pinky-mauve flower spikes and they work brilliantly in arrangements.'

  ‘Of course, you'd know this,' muttered Bron, feeling a bit thick for not having realised this sooner.

  ‘And there's a Rosa glauca with fantastic hips. Big swathes of that could look amazing.'

  ‘Listen, James,' said Fenella, 'I'm terribly glad you know all this stuff and that it's there somewhere in that jungle, but if you could just hack some of it down, and a load of ivy, we'd be thrilled. Then Sukie can do what she can with it.'

  ‘If I can just have something to eat first..’

  ‘Of course you can!' Bron flew to the bread bin she'd been introduced to earlier, glad to be useful. 'I'll make it!'

  ‘You're a star,' said Fenella. 'Now what else can possibly go wrong?' Her phone rang again and the tension in the room shot up again. 'Sarah? Yes, Sukie's on her way. What a nice woman. And James says there's lots of stuff in the garden I just hadn't noticed.’

  They chatted for a bit longer and then Fenella disconnected. 'Sarah's making place names. Apparently they weren't going to have them but now they are; it's all frightfully last minute. She sounds reasonably calm, but it's not nine o'clock yet. Anything could happen between now and-'

  ‘Don't say that!' said Elsa. 'Supposing Carrie's really late and I don't have enough time to finish her dress?'

  ‘Oh, I'm sure she won't be late for her own wedding, she's a professional!' said Bron, and looked around. Everyone was glaring at her. 'What? Oh, sorry – do you think I was tempting fate?’

  *

  The last crystal was applied to the last flower made of icing. The cake was finished at last. Hugo, who seemed to be everywhere with his camera, took a selection of shots, mostly, it seemed to Bron, while she had her tongue out in concentration.

  ‘That's fantastic, Bron,' he said. 'Really good. Are you going to take up a whole new career in cake-making?'

  ‘Probably not, but it's another string to my bow. I might;o and help James now.'

  ‘Just one last picture… thanks.’

  *

  'How's it going?' Bron asked Fenella who was holding the ladder for James.

  ‘Well, the caterers are here, they seem fine.'

  ‘That's good. What about the flowers?'

  ‘Sukie came with a van full of them, but she said she will need the ivy because you need so many. She's got Elsa making little posies for the tables. What with all the stuff James found in the garden I don't think anyone will know there was ever a problem. Luckily I don't think Carrie's instructions were all that precise.'

  ‘What time is she due?' Bron helped release a long single strand of ivy that James had unpeeled from the wall.

  ‘Quarter of an hour ago. Elsa is getting frantic. Sukie put her to work to encourage her to burn up her surplus energy.'

  ‘I could help Sukie, if she needs me. I can't do anything much until Carrie gets here, then Elsa and I will be fighting over her.'

  ‘Actually, if you could hold the ladder, I can go and see how it's all going. If bloody Rupert had let me keep the scaffolding tower, James would have been fine on his own.'

  ‘I'm fine on my own anyway,' said James from above.

  ‘No you're not. Ladders are dangerous,' said Fenella firmly. 'I'm going to break out the cake I made the other day, to keep us going. I forgot to have lunch.'

  ‘I'm not sure James is all that keen on cake,' said Bron. 'I would rather have a sandwich,' he said, smiling down at them. 'I didn't have lunch either.'

  ‘Goodness me,' said Bron, after Fenella had left, 'you must have stripped the entire building of ivy.'

  ‘Well, finding the ladder took a while and Rupert suddenly discovered a rose bush perfectly placed to rip the wedding dress to shreds. I had to deal with that first.'

  ‘Thank goodness you were here. And you thought you were only coming to help me!'
r />   ‘That wasn't the only reason,' he said. 'Right, I'm coming down now. Hang on tight and don't let me step on your hand.’

  Bron watched him descend the ladder, trying not to notice that his jeans were a bit tighter and newer than usual today. It was a good look for him.

  *

  Bron and Elsa were frantically washing their hands. Carrie had arrived, half an hour late, and they both wanted her.

  Bron was laughing, slightly hysterically. 'James and I were carrying the ladder back to the barn where it lived. We were just passing my pigsty when we heard the car. He turned round suddenly and the ladder when through the window! My bed is covered in glass.'

  ‘That's awful!' said Elsa. 'What did you do?'

  ‘Nothing! I just came running up here.'

  ‘Will James sort it out?'

  ‘I don't know. But I haven't got time to worry about it now. The really awful thing is, we were getting on so well, I was going to say something but…' It had happened in rather a rush and she'd had to run up here to prepare for Carrie.

  ‘Oh Bron… well, never mind, at least you'll have an opportunity to see him later.' Elsa sighed.

  ‘Have you heard from Laurence?' Bron asked.

  ‘No, I haven't heard from him in a while,' Elsa said as she dried her hands. No good thinking about that now. 'Right, I think I'm clean. I'd better go and find Carrie. Rupert told me she's in an awful mood.’

  Bron made a face. 'My nerves are already in shreds. There's something about the sound of breaking glass that goes right through you.'

  ‘I heard Fenella ringing Sarah. Carrie is not happy that she's not here. Although she did know about Lily's wedding, she still expected her to be here for her.’

  Bron glanced at her watch. 'She must have left by now, don't you think?’

  Elsa shrugged. 'They won't have started the speeches yet, surely? Lily was getting married at two – it takes at least an hour for the ceremony, the photos and getting back to the house.'

  ‘She won't make it, will she? Which means we have to cope with a grumpy superstar all on our own!’

  Chapter Forty

  The moment Sarah had thought would never arrive finally came. Lily, on her father's arm, processed up the aisle to Purcell's 'Trumpet Tune'. She looked truly beautiful in the dress Elsa had made for her and probably only those who knew she was pregnant would notice her tiny bump. As Sarah, wearing a silk chiffon dress with a jacket in a soft yellow that toned in beautifully with Lily's underskirt, was sitting on the bride's side she couldn't hear any hissings or mutterings that might have come from the groom's section of the church. This was a relief.

  As unobtrusively as possible, Sarah got the corner of her hanky up to her eyes, thinking that maybe she wasn't the cynical wedding planner she once was, and wondered briefly if Hugo had anything to do with it. Whatever the reason, her eyes took some dabbing.

  Dirk, who looked young and handsome, seemed relatively serene, although there had been a bout of tears earlier, Sarah had been told.

  Lily had behaved unexpectedly calmly. All the weepiness of the night before seemed to be over. Her hair and skin shone with the bloom of pregnancy and her dress looked lovely, gently opening over down the front like a gown in a medieval painting. Elsa had done wonders.

  Earlier there had been a moment that caused Sarah's heart to falter, just slightly, when Lily, inevitably, had asked, 'Does my bump look big in this? Mona's really insistent that I don't look pregnant and I promised her I wouldn't.’

  Sarah decided to lie. After all, it didn't actually look big, it just looked visible. 'Not at all. You look really, really lovely. I just wish Mum could have seen you.' Sarah felt her throat tighten and she swallowed.

  Lily's eyelashes fluttered briefly. 'It's all right, you've seen me. And Dirk will see me, and Dad. And Mum may be looking down on us from somewhere.’

  As the sisters hugged Sarah felt a moment of role reversal: Lily was comforting her and she was the one close to tears.

  Lily had accepted the place settings, agreeing with Sarah that at least with her in-put, there shouldn't be too many disasters. She was very relieved not to have the formal lineup her future mother-in-law wanted, but the two-part version as suggested by Sarah. Sarah, torn in two by her sister's wedding and her first celebrity one, felt pleased to have made Lily's day easier. She knew that she'd already done loads – in fact it was through her and her contacts that it had all been done so thriftily. But Sarah also knew that she might have to scoot off early when Lily might still need her support.

  There had been a few hitches before they got to this point, of course. The marquee, which had been such a bargain to hire, developed a split. Hardly surprising, considering its age and the very low rental, but it had meant Sarah had to spend quite a lot of time up a ladder with a roll of gaffer tape.

  Mrs Boscastle's fine herbaceous border was the backdrop for one side of the marquee, but there had been a very small budget for flowers. Her friends, aided by the Catering Ladies, each of whom Sarah would have awarded an MBE had it been in her gift, put their many skills to good use and had made table arrangements out of what blooms there were, all of which seemed to come from their own gardens. The WI and its ilk, so despised by Mrs Boscastle, had added the final touch to make the marquee fit for a wedding. Sarah crossed her fingers that Sukie had managed to save the floral day at Somerby. She was very good, and it was a major stroke of luck that she was available, but would she have been able to get hold of enough material for something suitably sensational?

  Sarah glanced at her watch as her father and Lily were deposited at the front of the church. It was twenty minutes past two.

  By the time Lily's second bridesmaid went up to do a reading Sarah knew they were running very late. In theory she should get into her car now and make haste to Somerby, possibly adding the cost of speeding tickets to Carrie's bill. But she couldn't do that, she realised as Lily's friend stumbled over The Prophet – it wasn't Carrie's fault her wedding day coincided with Sarah's sister's. It was just a horrible coincidence. Should she have said no to Carrie? No, she couldn't have. A wedding like that could make her name, or – if it all went wrong – break it.

  Nor could she run away yet, not until after her father had made his speech. The best man, the groom and any other random orations could go on without her, but she had to hear her dad.

  Outside the church, the photographer, booked only for a very few formal shots, was rather surprised to be hustled along quite so briskly, but he knew Sarah, wanted to be used by her again, and did what he was told.

  ‘You don't want all those pictures of the relations,' Sarah muttered to Mrs Boscastle, as they watched the bride and groom smiling up at each other. 'Frightfully common!’

  Sarah, who'd booked this photographer when she'd developed cold feet about Uncle Joby's reliability, was very glad she had. He was far more interested in chatting up Charlene than taking photographs.

  Nor was there time for the bride and groom to have a glass of champagne and a cuddle in the car on the way to the reception. This was something that Sarah always suggested if it were possible. It was a moment for the newly-weds to be alone to savour the moment before the hurly-burly of the reception.

  This time, however, Dirk's friend, who'd been entrusted with getting them to the reception safely, was told the priorities had changed – they now had to be there in record time. Fortunately it was very near by and anyway, Lily wasn't drinking.

  The double line-up worked brilliantly. Sarah, hanging round Lily so between them they would remember the names of the more obscure family members, did overhear people asking her when the happy event was due, but if they said similar things to the families, at least Lily didn't know about it.

  ‘Right,' said Sarah to Lily, 'let's get people sitting down with a glass of wine – save the fizz for the toasts.’

  She whisked to her father's side and explained her problem. He was already aware that Carrie's wedding was due to happen a couple of counties away
.

  ‘But, love, we can't start straight into the speeches until people have something to eat. It's a buffet – it'll take ages.'

  ‘Dad, I know that, and I feel awfully mean.' She paused. 'Maybe I should just abandon Carrie. There's a good team over there. They don't need me.'

  ‘Now, love, don't say that. Your mother would have been so proud of you. And you know Dirk and Lily are on your side. They want you to do Carrie's wedding just as much as they want you at this one. You do what you need to do.' He leant forward conspiratorially. 'And if that bitch' – he indicated Mrs Boscastle – 'pardon my language, with a mouth like she's chewed on a lemon, gets uppity, tell me and I'll sort her.’

  Sarah hugged her father, chuckling into his ear. 'That's where I get my bossiness from. It's you.'

  ‘No time for sentiment, girl,' he said. 'Get those glasses filled. I'm getting ready to start!’

  She moved deftly through the crowd to Veronica, in charge of the Catering Ladies. 'I want you to make sure everyone has a plate and then just move among the tables with plates of food and bottles of wine, serve people where they are. I desperately need to get to Carrie's wedding!’

  As the Catering Ladies were all quite excited at the thought of Carrie's wedding, they were keen to help. 'Leave it to us. We'll get this lot fed and watered before they've had time to work out what their names are.’

  Sarah wondered if power was going to her head. Although she organised weddings she usually deferred to her clients. Now she practically was the client she let her organisational skills let rip. Everyone was seated, somewhere, in minutes flat. No one was allowed to complain if they were not on the table allocated – they just saw Sarah and did what she told them.

  She was up by the top table, where, in theory, she was sitting, in seconds. 'Lily, darling, do you mind if Dad does his speech now? I really have to leave soon.’

  Lily, who most of her life had been awkward and attention-seeking, had been transformed by marriage. 'Saresy, you've been so brilliant, you go when you like. We'll be fine without you, won't we, Dad? Charlene will do her bridesmaid bit, if necessary. Come on, Dad.'