Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop

by Jane Linfoot

  Immie flops down on the chaise longue. ‘Great. Well, in that case, where are we up to?’

  Poppy’s eyeing her resignedly. ‘Okay, telling it like it is, we have thousands of snowflake sequins on the ruined skirt, which all need cutting off and hand-sewing onto the replacement skirt.’

  Immie’s sitting up. ‘Is that all? Why didn’t you say that to start with?’

  Poppy’s looking bemused. ‘The first time around, the lady doing the job had the skirt for three weeks. We’ve got approximately eleven hours. I know you regularly work wonders, Immie, but I think this one’s out of your league.’

  Immie gives a low laugh. ‘Aren’t you forgetting about Blue Watch? How many times have they hoicked us all out of the shit?’ She’s talking about the team of firefighters Chas works with.

  Poppy’s frowning. ‘Well, they saved the day putting up Alice’s twiggy ceiling at the Manor last Christmas. And they helped Sera find the missing groom. Then they were like angels with magic wands when we had to move your wedding from the house to the barn at short notice.’ She’s mixing her metaphors, but we still get what she means. ‘I don’t see where they can help with this one, though?’

  Immie’s laughing. ‘That’s because you don’t know about their secret vice. You don’t think they spend all those hours on call at work playing snooker, do you? Blue Watch are seriously into needlepoint. But for chrissakes don’t go broadcasting it. It’s classified information.’

  Poppy’s looking flabbergasted. ‘You mean they can sew?’

  Immie’s looking super-pleased. ‘Only like dreams. Give them the needles, the thread and the snowflakes, and set them up at the big bench in Sera’s studio. We’ll have them working their little tushes off faster than you can say cross stitch. With all of them, they’ll piss on this job in no time. There’s a load drinking two doors down in the Hungry Shark. I’ll get Chas to round them up.’

  Poppy’s still not convinced. ‘They’ll work through until morning?’

  Immie nods. ‘However long it takes. You know Blue Watch. There’s nothing they love more than an emergency. Even if there aren’t ladders involved, they’re genetically programmed to respond to people like us, who are up creeks without paddles.’ She opens her bomber jacket and gives a chortle. ‘Anyway, it’s official – Firemen can go all night. It says so on my t-shirt.’

  Katie’s standing flapping her hands. ‘Thank you all so much, I don’t know who to hug first, everyone’s being so amazing.’

  ‘Maybe just hug us altogether?’ That’s Poppy’s cue for a massive group hug. Somehow when people in London do them, they never work as well as the ones here. You’ve got to admit, people in St Aidan might be hideous for sticking their noses into everyone else’s lives. But they know how to come in and haul you out of trouble.

  To steal a phrase from Immie … Festering frog farts, who’d have thought?

  Okay, so not only am I going to get to spend the night with a whole load of hot hunky guys in the building, but it looks like we’re right on course for a Dress Rescue too. If I’m really lucky, they might even fix the loose button on my jacket. But with a pre-wedding cock-up this enormous, that has to be a good sign for tomorrow. Doesn’t it?

  Chapter 32

  Monday 18th December

  At Daisy Hill Farm: Cups and saucers

  Katie and Seth’s Alpine Wedding

  Seeing twelve guys in amongst the fabric rolls and dressmaker’s dummies in Sera’s studio, with their muscly arms and t-shirts, all poring over a table spread with soft tulle, needles flying, was almost worth the disaster. I admit I sneaked a couple of teensy pics. Obviously for my personal consumption only. Nothing to do with the biceps, simply because of the rarity value. And to remind me, when I look back, just how wild and unbelievable this month in St Aidan was.

  Immie and I kept them well supplied with tea and cakes, then when they finished I waved them all off down the mews and locked up. It was some kind of minor feat that by the time I fell into bed at four, when I put my nose to my wrist and sniffed really hard, Rory’s scent was still there. Even if I did fall asleep breathing him in, it was still Luc I was chasing after in my dream. He was sailing off out of the harbour on a yacht, and I had to jump in and swim after him. Which was hell, because we all know how much I hate water. By the time Rory waded into my dream to haul me out onto the beach, I’d turned into a mermaid. My mind boggles every time I think of the psychological implications Immie would read into all that.

  Then Poppy was back again early to steam the dress and whisk it back over to Katie at the farm. So, apart from feeling like I’d been hit over the head with a hammer due to lack of sleep, by the time Rory arrived to cook breakfast at eight, we were back to business as usual. By making a huge thing of rushing around and giving every detail of last night’s drama, I made it deliberately obvious I’d completely forgotten the bit where I ended up yanking Rory’s hair out. And I must be making more of this than he is, because he didn’t mention it at all either. Not that I gave him any space to get a word in.

  Rory drops me off at the farm later as he heads off with my second-best camera to catch up with the guys, who are getting into their ski wear up at the Goose and Duck. As I walk into the rustic shell of the wedding barn, with its lofty ceiling, rough-hewn beams and whitewashed stonework I can see it’s the perfect setting for all the props that Poppy, Lily and Katie have added. The wood plank bar, with its Gluhwein signs and fairy lights could have been transplanted straight from the inside of a mountain hut. The cosy red tartan armchairs and the cuckoo clock and moose heads are all working their magic as I get out my camera. There are piles of brightly coloured rugs and carefully arranged skis, sledges and ice skates, and festive touches too. A huge tree, with pink lights and multi-coloured bows and cut-out snowflakes. There are wicker wreaths with trailing ribbons hanging from the walls. Outside on the terrace, the open braziers are already alight, radiating their warmth, as the flames roar through huge chunky logs. I know Katie and Seth had been desperately hoping for snow, but after the near miss with the dress, I think they’ll be happy enough to settle for a flurry from the snow machine.

  The fact that Poppy’s putting the final touches of flowers and berries to her four-tier chocolate cake shows that Seth and Katie are standing firm with Marilyn. The fact that her cake is right beside Poppy’s shows she still hasn’t given up her fight.

  I can’t help letting out an excited cry when I see the glittery shimmer of icing on Poppy’s buttercream-covered tower. ‘Awww, the white drip snow looks so amazing on top of the dark chocolate. And the red and yellow, and blue and pink flowers are so zingy. Did the ganache work out okay this time?’

  Poppy nods. ‘Ganache is much easier to get right when the weather’s cold.’ She looks at Marilyn’s cake. ‘Talking of Snow Queens, Marilyn’s down in the main house with her own hair and make-up team. They’ve promised to keep her out of trouble until the groomsmen pick her up later.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll pop in and take some pictures of her getting ready.’ That’s definitely one on the lists Jules sent us. ‘I’ll see Katie and the girls first, though.’ Somehow I’m so looking forward to taking pictures of the bridesmaids in their short bright tulle skirts and angora jumpers with all the props, and the guys in their suits and ski jackets, I’ve actually forgotten to worry.

  It seems like last night’s predictions for the wedding going well are spot-on. I get some great pre-wedding pictures, including a close-up of the offending blue platforms. Katie’s whisper-light white voile skirt looks truly amazing with those hand-sewn snowflake sequins nestling in the gathers. And a lot later on, capturing Katie dodging Marilyn as she pursues her around the place with the tiara and veil turns it into an iconic moment for posterity rather than the almighty showdown it might have been.

  As I finally come out of the bride’s dressing room, I’m still scraping the tears away from my eyelashes after taking the pictures of Katie with her mum and her very poorly dad. As I hurry
into the main part of the barn, it’s bursting with excited guests waiting for the ceremony. They’re mostly dressed in bright woolly hats and jumpers, all sitting on hay bales, and it couldn’t be any more vibrant or photogenic. As Marilyn reappears along with her groomsmen guard, she pauses to take in the full glory of the decorations. She falters for a moment, then makes a beeline for Rory.

  If the floral dressing gown she was wearing earlier made me think of the Chelsea Flower Show, the suit she’s changed into is like a burst of Kew Gardens on a summer’s day. All topped off with a fascinator the size of a flying saucer. She sweeps Rory into a huge embrace, then her lips collide with his face. After an extra-long head pat she pulls away, leaving a slick of orange lipstick that stretches from his chin to his ear. From across the barn, I try to catch his eye as he takes her to her seat – a proper mum-of-the-groom chair that’s like a throne beside the straw bales. I’m still pointing to my face as Kip appears, which has to be a sign that Katie is coming any moment. So I dash into position to get the ceremony shots.

  Tucked in behind the selfie ski-lift seat, I’m perfectly placed to catch the bridesmaids coming in, then Katie as she walks down the aisle to meet her dad, who is sitting waiting for her at the front. I can’t help smiling as the walking in music strikes up. As I Only Want to be With You bounces off the stone walls, I jump as someone nudges my elbow.

  ‘This one’s on your playlist too.’ It’s Rory, his low murmur rumbling in my ear.

  ‘Great.’ Talk about timing. I hiss up at him, ‘Why aren’t you across the other side of the barn?’

  He’s grinning down at me. ‘Better views over here.’

  There’s no time to tell him to shut the eff up, because there’s a burst of sapphire blue and cerise and yellow, and the bridesmaids are arriving. Then Katie’s here, smiling and crying at the same time. As she sways and dances along between the bales I can’t help noticing how cute and lovely her rosy nose is. And as she comes to a halt next to Seth and beams up at him, she gives him the briefest flash of turquoise platform from under her hem. Then they both collapse into giggles.

  The ceremony is full of all the tears and laughter you would wish for. Hundreds of pictures later, Katie and Seth have read out their very cute promises – which don’t mention Marilyn at all – exchanged rings, and had their very first Mr and Mrs snog. The register is signed and then everyone’s pulling on their ski jackets, ski hats and mittens, and rushing outside to grab cocktails, under flakes from the snow machine.

  Rory’s doing up his windcheater as he comes up behind me and we move out together onto the terrace. ‘Okay, Hols, all good so far. Rafe and Kip will be pulling the confetti tunnel shot together in about ten minutes. If you want to go in close, I’ll get it from further out.’ He pushes up his collar and pulls my hat out of his pocket. ‘You might need this, there’s a bit of a wind getting up. One of Seth’s friends is sending a video drone up too, to get a crowd shot from above.’

  It might be the fourth time around, but as I pull on my hat I’m still twitching with the pressure to snatch this one-time-only action shot of the bride and groom being showered with confetti. Thanks to Marilyn, the list of groups we have to work through afterwards is endless. But they’re mainly a matter of crowd-handling. With every other shot after the next one, there’s a chance for a second go. Ten minutes later, my stomach’s knotting as I watch the guests being hustled into position. Then as Marilyn comes strutting through, the crowd parts. The cluster of feathery antennae on her head is so expansive it looks like it could be communicating with Houston. If it tones perfectly with the bright pink chaser lights on the terrace, it’s definitely accidental.

  Then Katie and Seth burst out hand in hand, and there’s a cheer, then a blizzard of confetti petals. I’m still madly clicking my shutter when everyone begins to clap. I glance up to see they’re all looking upwards, waving and shouting. ‘Here comes the video drone!’

  Above our heads there’s the buzz from the spindly machine as it hovers. Then a ripple of comments. ‘How clever is that? Wave at the spacemen. Don’t they bring aircraft down?’

  Rory’s back at my shoulder. ‘Do we take pictures of the drone taking pictures, then?’ He frowns at the terrace. ‘Jeez, it’s flying low.’

  I watch as a gust of wind catches it. ‘Shit, it’s heading towards us. Look out!’ I manage a squawk, but it’s too little too late. As the mini craft is swooping out of control, my shout turns to a scream. ‘Oh My God, it’s heading straight for Marilyn!’

  It’s as if the feathers on her fascinator are pulling it in. It skims across above her, slicing through the quills. Then as the spines tangle in its propellers, it goes into a wobbling spiral and crashes down onto her head.

  There’s a shrill shriek from Marilyn. Then a roar and everyone rushes forward to help.

  Rory’s voice is low in my ear. ‘Do you believe in karma?’

  Someone has to shut him up. ‘Behave, Rory.’

  There’s a smile playing around his lips and his eyes are laughing. ‘Right, in that case, you carry on here, I’ll go and sort out Marilyn.’

  Not that I’d always do what Rory suggests, but this once I do. Twenty minutes later, when Rory comes outside again, I’m back to taking pictures of cherries in pomegranate mimosas, and girls in shorts and neon tights sipping coconut vanilla vodka in milk bottles, through chocolate- wafer straws.

  He arrives back with a small group of groomsmen and from the furrows in his forehead, the news isn’t good. ‘Marilyn needs a couple of stitches. And unfortunately I’m the only sober driver here she’s happy to go to St Aidan with. So I’ll take care of that, while the rest of the day will carry on as planned.’

  ‘B-b-but …’ I have a feeling my jaw’s locked in shock as the realisation sinks in. ‘You’re leaving me here on my own?’

  As he stares into my eyes, he clamps his fingers around my arm. ‘I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you’re in the hands of some dedicated and very capable helpers.’ He does a flourish. ‘Meet Joel, Jim, Josh and Jack.’

  ‘Four of you?’ I recover enough to stammer. ‘Hi g-guys.’ First firemen, now groomsmen.

  Joel’s smile is as warm as the hand he’s holding out. ‘Your wish is our command and all that stuff.’

  Jack, the cheeky one, is right behind him. ‘On the upside, this might be a great chance to get the job done without any more sabotage from Marilyn.’

  ‘Fire away, then. Who do you want us to round up first?’ Josh and Jack are grinning and rubbing their biceps in readiness. And as Rory melts away, I think I hear him saying ‘Good luck, Holly Postman, stay nice and brave. You’re going to smash this out of the park.’

  Chapter 33

  Thursday 20th December

  At Brides by the Sea: Blowy days and views of shoes

  ‘Cobalt blue and hot pink. Let me guess. It’s your Alpine wedding?’ It’s Jess. She’s already made it back from the airport, when most people would still be in baggage handling. And like the super-woman she is, first she whooshed around the entire shop. And now she’s peering over my shoulder, checking out the slideshow on my laptop.

  There are tingles on my neck as the photos flash onto the screen. But this time around it’s more excitement at how well they’ve turned out than being self-conscious that she’s looking at them. ‘Just some of Seth and Katie’s better pictures. I pinged them off to Jules a few minutes ago.’ In the end their pictures are even prettier than I’d dared to hope. And that’s despite Marilyn hijacking my trusty assistant. Talk about a handful. Not only did she let him take her to get the dent in her head glued, she also made him detour via Brides by the Sea on the way back, so she could choose a new fascinator.

  Jess leans in closer. ‘A night-time kiss under the stars, with snow falling, and all those hunky snowboarders in the background. It’s making me feel very nostalgic.’

  I’m smiling because Jess still in holiday mode sounds so dreamy and unlike herself. ‘So I tak
e it you had a good time?’ If this is what the mountains do for you, maybe we all need a high altitude break. I sneak a look at her left hand. ‘No last minute engagement ring, then?’

  As she brushes back her windswept bob and finally slips off her fur-trimmed ski parka, I can’t help noticing. After two weeks of snow and sun, she’s so tanned she’s almost turned into Bart. And I’m sure the white snow-goggle effect around her eyes where she’s been wearing her sunnies will soon fade. Although after my own recent toothpaste disasters, I’m in no position to criticise.

  She gives a husky snort. ‘That Bart Penryn is a scoundrel. The places he lured me to with the promise of diamonds.’ It’s not only her personality that’s had a make-over. With her calf-length brown furry boots and black snowflake-print ski pants she’s looking more like a lost guest from Monday’s wedding than St Aidan’s most switched-on bridal-shop owner. ‘Last night we sat through an entire ice hockey match and Bart convinced me he was going to do the deed over the loudspeakers.’

  I can’t help laughing. ‘How wild would that have been? Phoebe on Friends got proposed to at a football game and hated it, though.’ Which reminds me, my boxed set is still waiting for me, unwatched.

  Jess nods at me enthusiastically. ‘Exactly. That’s the silly part. I would have hated it too.’ She looks down and scrutinises her bare wedding finger. ‘It’s years since I had a holiday. Even though I’ve come home empty-handed, I’ve still had the most wonderful time. Regardless of whether he wants to marry me or not, the man is a legend. He might be a pirate, but he’s also proved himself to be a top-quality gentleman. When I stop to think about it, I’m happy to take him just as he is.’

  I grin at her. ‘That’s great news. To be honest, I’m not sure I can take any more weddings.’

  For the first time, Jess’s eyes pull into focus. ‘I’ve heard you’re very good at this, Holly, but now I can see it for myself.’ Her voice is suddenly earnest. ‘Your photographs have a completely different feel to Jules’s. They’re much more up-close and relaxed. It’s as if you’re photographing your friends.’