by Jane Linfoot
I’m about to point out it’s only half over. And however long it’s seemed for him, being stuck with a bad-tempered beer obsessive, who doesn’t know the words to Let It Go, has probably seemed even longer for Gracie. But as he kicks the table, there’s a flicker as my laptop screen bursts into life. ‘Careful there.’ I leap forward to slam it shut, but I’m too late. His hand shoots out and stops me.
‘Wait a minute.’ As he leans forward, tilts back the screen and squints at it there’s the start of a smile playing around his lips. ‘Well, I never. So, Holly Berry, you weren’t just a poseur with a camera case. You really were taking pictures at the farm.’ Then a low chuckle comes from his throat as he scrolls down. ‘You’re a dark horse. When did you become a wedding photographer?’ There’s delight on his face that he’s blown my secret.
Anyone else would have been bad enough. With Rory peering at my photos, I’m so confused the words won’t come out. ‘It’s … I’m not … big mistake … complicated …’ As usual Mr Sanderson’s put two and two together and made sixty six. Not hard for an idiot like him.
All these years on, it’s times like this when I miss Freya most. Actually, that’s not true. I’ll never get over not having her there to talk to at night. Or sitting around the family table, coming out with all the clever stuff. And lounging on the sofa, always ready with a cushion for when her wimpy younger sister bottled at scary films. That Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang who gave us nightmares for years still makes me shiver even now. But she was always the one who dared to creep into my bed and talk until I fell asleep. Without her, I was out of my teens before I dared to watch the headless horseman in Sleepy Hollow, even though everyone else had seen it years before.
But if she were here now, even though it’s years on, I know she’d jump in with a fitting put- down. Squish Rory to the size and significance of a pea. Make me come up roses, looking bloody brilliant. She had the ability to whip out something more eloquent in a second than I could think of if I sat and pondered for a week.
I’m halfway through failing to explain myself when Poppy reappears from the kitchen. Then Immie and Gracie come galloping back from the loo. A bit like buses. I’ve been sitting so long opening and closing my mouth like I’ve got no brain cells at all, and now the two of them are here to save me at once.
‘You were quick. Everything okay?’ Funny how the words come out fine when I’m speaking to Poppy. The way she’s staring back at me like a guppie, it’s almost like I was with Rory. And, come to think of it, she’s galloped through the phone call with Jess. I’ve been pushed to get Jess to hang up inside thirty minutes. In the end I have to ask. ‘Is there a problem?’
Immie’s thinking the same, but expressing it differently. ‘Come on, Pops, spit it out. You’re dithering like a lily-livered walrus.’
Poppy blinks. ‘Okay, so here’s a thing. Zoe totally loves your pictures, Hols. See, I told you she would.’
‘Jess rang to tell you that?’ It’s great to know, but somehow it’s coming from the wrong place entirely.
From Poppy’s grimace, she’s agonising. ‘The other news is less good. Basically …’ She hesitates, then it comes out in a rush. ‘… Jess rang to tell me we’re a man down.’
Immie’s hands are on her hips. ‘Sorry, you’re going to have to do better than that. We’re still none the wiser.’ As her coat opens, there’s a flash of her Don’t f**k with me t-shirt slogan.
Poppy groans at her. ‘Zip up Immie, thank Christmas Gracie can’t read.’
‘What?’ Immie’s expression is inscrutable. ‘For frig sake. This is my “going out when I’m cross” t-shirt. It’s only fair to warn people.’
As Rory leans towards her, for once he’s not joking around. ‘Don’t take it too hard, Immie. You and Chas are bound to get lucky soon. Fingers crossed for next month, eh?’ If it’s a shock that Rory can sound that sincere, it’s also a shock he’s in the inner circle of people in the loop about Immie’s baby disappointment. Although that’s St Aidan for you. It’s the only place in the world where a wine merchant would be commenting on your menstrual cycles and publicly cheering you on to fertilisation. What’s more astounding still, he’s getting full appreciation for his input.
‘Thanks, mate. I hope you’re right. Give us a couple of days, and we’ll be less gutted.’ Immie pulls the corners of her mouth down, then moves on. ‘So, who the hell’s dropped out of the team?’
The way Poppy’s stalling, maybe she has got baby brain after all. ‘It’s Jules. Jess rang to say he’s housebound.’ She drags in a breath. ‘So he’s asking if Hols could go out to a wedding venue up near Port Giles tomorrow. Check out a few angles and shots. Take a few pictures in advance of a wedding he’s booked for on Sunday. Nothing too difficult. If we can get someone to take you, do you think you could manage that?’ She raises an eyebrow at me.
I’m blinking, because I’m doubtful. ‘He wants me to finish the edits on Zoe’s pictures tomorrow.’
Poppy’s looking anxious. ‘Actually, Jules has offered to do a job swap on that. As he and Jess say, the pictures from the Port Giles venue will be great for your portfolio. It’s a converted lifeboat station an hour and a half up the coast. A fabulous place.’
I’m puzzled. ‘How come Jess is the one sorting this out?’
Poppy shrugs. ‘Just because Jess is in Switzerland, it doesn’t mean she’s not in control. She’s everyone’s go-to person if they have a problem, because she’ll always find an answer.’
From nowhere, Immie chimes in. ‘Why doesn’t Rory take you up to Port Giles, Hols. It’ll be a good way to get the kids out.’ From the way she catches Poppy’s eye, I suspect they could be colluding on this. Although when Poppy mentioned Rory as partner material the day of Zoe’s wedding, I had no idea they’d be this proactive.
Luckily for me, Rory couldn’t look more horrified as he jumps in with his own protest. ‘Even if I’d love to see how Supernanny stands up to a day of screaming from the back seat, I don’t think so.’
As I frown at Poppy and Immie, I can’t help my whine. ‘Why do I feel like you’re ganging up on me?’
Poppy sends me a soothing smile. ‘Not at all, Hols. We’re just over-stretched, due to unforeseen circumstances. Rory’s not working tomorrow, so he’s the most available of all of the team to take you. Immie’s completely right to suggest him.’
This is such a bad idea, for every reason. Although the kids are the least of the problems. ‘Actually I’d rather walk than spend two hours in a car with Rory.’ That would be on hot coals, by the way. ‘What’s more, he obviously feels the same way. And for the record, I only put edible stuff in my portfolio.’
Poppy’s straight in. ‘In which case you could pull in lunch too. If you’re wanting food pictures, you could find an award-winning real ale pub that does posh nosh.’ The triumphant smile she sends Rory is simply because he’s anyone’s for a mention of beer.
I’m going to close this down straight away. ‘Everyone, please. What part of “no” do you not understand?’
Rory’s tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. ‘It’s obvious Holly Pink Cheeks can’t take a day with the kids. We should all respect that.’
I’m glaring at him for ducking out and not taking the blame fair and square himself. Growling through clenched teeth. ‘Gracie and Teddie aren’t the problem here.’
Immie’s holding her hands in the air. ‘Stop guys! I’m up to my ears with cottage changeovers, Poppy’s very pregnant and needs to rest. It’s a few hours tops.’ Her voice rises from reasonable to a roar. ‘Whatever’s going on with you two, man up and get over it!’
I have to jump on this. ‘There’s absolutely nothing going on.’ I turn to Rory, who’s staring somewhere out in the mews. ‘Back me up on this, Rory.’
He turns and blinks as he hears his name. ‘What’s that? I’ve got no idea what the hell … but I’m damned if …’
Immie’s roaring again. ‘Language, Rory.’ Then she drops her voi
ce to a hiss. ‘By the sound of it, we’re in a shit hole here. Poppy’s helping both of you out massively with your accommodation, so the least you can do is put your differences to one side for half a day and go with this. Okay?’ Faced with a scowl that fierce, there’s nothing else for it.
I can hardly believe what I’m agreeing to with my squeak. ‘Okay. I’ll go.’
Rory snorts like a bull. ‘Fine.’ If there’s one consolation, it’s that he’s as unwilling as I am.
Poppy’s eyes are wide and a lot less relaxed than her voice. ‘Great, so that’s the first hurdle sorted.’
I’m back to opening and closing my mouth, because on reflection, I’m not sure it is at all. Right now I’ve been lined up for a day out with the last person in the world I want to spend time with, taking pictures of a wedding venue as a favour. A favour for a guy who, to be honest, has been pretty hostile to me up till now. What’s more, I’m moving further and further away from my sausage casserole comfort zone with every second.
Immie’s moved on. ‘But what’s wrong with Jules?’
I’m momentarily putting my immediate problems aside and thinking back to his hammering head. ‘Is this because of his nervous rash?’
Immie’s straight in there. ‘Rash?’
‘He had a couple of pimples on his forehead yesterday.’
Immie’s voice soars. ‘Refusing to leave the house just because he’s got a spot? Jeez, I know Jules is faddy and vain in spades, but this takes the biscuit. What’s wrong with a blob of concealer? That wimp needs to grow some balls, slap on the Hide the Blemish, and show his zit to the world, like the rest of us mere mortals do every day.’ Sounds like the full brunt of Immie’s baby angst has moved on from us to Jules.
From the way Poppy’s face crumples, she could be sucking on a sour lemon. ‘Jess said to break it to you bit by bit, Hols. But maybe it’s best to tell you the truth, all at once.’
I’m frowning. ‘You mean there’s worse to come?’ From where I’m standing a day out with Rory is as bad as it gets. Worse isn’t possible.
Poppy’s voice is soft. ‘Jules has got more spots since yesterday. A lot more. They think he’s probably got chickenpox. And that can be really serious in adults.’
Immie’s chortling. ‘So you won’t be in any danger from that, Rory. That’s one advantage to being an eternal child.’
Rory says nothing, but the way he’s waving his middle finger at her confirms she’s right anyway.
Gracie’s twiddling with her fingers so quietly we’d almost forgotten she was there. ‘Rory showed me and Teddie the loose sign.’ As she sticks up her middle finger and waves it around everyone except Rory exchanges horrified glances.
Immie grabs her hand and closes her fingers around Gracie’s. ‘Snowmen don’t do the hang loose sign, because their fingers are too stumpy. So you and Teddie need to forget the hand signals, right now, okay?’ She rolls her eyes at me, but Poppy’s words are slowly sinking in. Like dumplings into stew. Checking out camera angles in Port Giles sounds like the start, not the end of this nightmare.
‘So what’s happening to all of Jules’s wedding bookings?’
Poppy’s eyes are very bright. ‘Jess thought … and Jules thought … as your pictures from Zoe’s wedding were so fab … that you might like to … help out …’
Despite my iron muscle control my stomach lurches, and this time it’s nothing to do with Mr Sanderson. ‘Me step in?’ It’s almost a yell. Although why I’m clutching my waist when my gut’s already left the building, I have no idea. ‘Absolutely not. That’s NO with the caps lock on.’ Seeing Poppy isn’t reacting, I might need to suggest my own solution. ‘Isn’t there someone local to do it? Doesn’t he have any friends in the business?’
She sighs. ‘His two besties are grabbing some winter sun in Fuerteventura, so they can’t help. It’s lucky this happened in the off season.’ Poppy’s got her pleading look on. ‘After Port Giles, all the weddings are with us. If you could take over … just until he’s back on his feet again … we all know you’ll nail it …’
I might as well throw it in. ‘Actually Jules agrees with me on this. He actually told me weddings weren’t my bag.’
Poppy’s eyebrows lift. ‘According to Jess, he’s had a radical rethink on that. Nothing like chickenpox to change a man’s mind. You’re his best hope here, because you’ve got the technical skill and the flare to come through with the kind of shots he likes to do. Don’t worry, we’ll pull together for the rest.’
Worry doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling here. My throat is dry, but I have to explain. ‘Becky and Nate are understanding friends, who know what they’re getting, and would excuse me for less than perfect pictures.’ They’re completely ready to take a chance I might screw up on their big day, in other words. Which let’s face, it is quite possible given how complex weddings are these days. ‘But Jules’s couples will be clients demanding a top notch job. And deserving it too. There’s a world of difference.’
Poppy’s got her pleading face on. ‘You have no idea how much work goes into putting a wedding together. And the photographs are what the couple have to remember the day forever.’
‘That’s my point entirely.’ At least we’re agreeing on something here. The pressure to deliver perfection is immense.
‘But that’s also why all those weddings happening without a photographer would be unthinkable. Please, Hols. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to help us out here.’
I’m thinking back to how much Poppy’s helped me over the last year. How she’s messaged me every day. Agonised and sympathised. When she let me borrow her flat, it was purely to help me through Christmas. If this is how things are accidentally working out, given there really isn’t anyone else, maybe I need to dig deep. I give a huge sigh. ‘Maybe I can try.’ My main reason for helping out Nate and Becky was because I was desperate to grab a last lifeline to Luc. And get myself out of my rut. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t even be here at all.
Poppy pulls in a breath. ‘Jess thinks you’re going to surprise yourself. And I think she’s right.’
Talking of which, it’s no surprise that Immie’s joining in. ‘We’ll all be here to help you. With the Daisy Hill team behind you, you can do this, Hols.’
‘So that’s all settled.’ Poppy’s grinning at me. ‘Brides by the Sea just got a shiny new stand in wedding photographer. Complete with back-up team.’
‘Great.’ It comes out as a whisper. Except it’s really not. As for Rory Sanderson having any part of this, that is nothing short of a disaster waiting to happen.
Chapter 12
Friday 8th December
At Brides by the Sea: Ready and unwilling
‘Opening up at nine?’ As I lug my camera stuff down four flights of stairs and into the shop next morning, Poppy’s already behind the desk. ‘I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy?’
She looks up from checking through a stack of parcels. ‘With some clients it’s worth going the extra mile.’ The corners of her mouth droop. ‘It’s damage limitation. Stave off the problems before they happen and everything will be fine.’
I’m getting the message. ‘So you’re expecting a difficult customer?’
Her grin is rueful. ‘Let’s just say, if Marilyn had told me to be here at dawn, I wouldn’t have argued.’ She laughs. ‘But at least coming in early meant I was here at eight to talk Jess down.’
‘What did Jess want at that time?’ Usually she waits until the shop opens at ten.
Poppy raises her eyebrows. ‘Last night Bart took her on a moonlight ride in a pony and trap, followed by a five star fondue on a private balcony at the smartest local restaurant.’
I’m impressed. ‘He’s not stinting on the romance, is he?’
‘Poor Jess spent all evening convinced she was about to dip into the melted cheese and pull a ring out. So much Gruyère and nothing at the end of it. Reading between the pauses, I think she was devastated.’
O
h my. ‘I wish I’d never mentioned proposals.’ I’m feeling very guilty for raising her expectations.
Poppy shakes her head. ‘Engagement must have been on her mind or she wouldn’t have cornered you. And I’m sure she’ll be back with a diamond on her left hand. I just wish he’d get on with it and then we can all relax and enjoy their holiday.’ She peers at me more closely. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re very pale this morning.’
Result! As I put my fingers to my cheek, despite the cakey feel, I’m mentally punching the air. ‘Probably just my late night. It’s hard to stop watching Friends once you start.’ It’s too embarrassing to admit I’ve splashed out on some Red Alert blush hider. At forty quid for a teensy tube, I’m pleased she’s noticed because, to be honest, miracles come cheaper.
‘You aren’t going to puke again are you?’ Her frown deepens. ‘It’s just you look a bit crusty.’
I hadn’t anticipated an inquisition. ‘Really, I’m all good.’ Which is a complete lie, seeing what’s ahead. But as it might stretch to an entire morning with Rory, I went for four layers. Then just to be doubly sure, I added a layer or two of talc I found in the bathroom cabinet. Crusts are a minor drawback, if it means I stay pale.
She glances at her phone. ‘Is Rory late?’
Me hopping from one foot to the other is probably the giveaway. I’m twitching the chiffon layers of the wedding dress in the window display so I can get a better view down the mews. Although it’s only to be expected. He doesn’t exactly come across as Mr Reliable. ‘He’s probably still struggling to get the kids up and dressed. Although there’s someone coming now. She’s blonde, powering down the street like she’s going into battle.’
Poppy pulls a face. ‘Damn. Our nine o’clock must be early.’
From the sheer confidence in her stride, she’s already making me want to find a corner to hide in. ‘I’ll stay out of your way. Unless you need me to help, that is.’ I dive and perch on the end of the bridesmaids’ chaise longue furthest away from the desk.
