Wedding Season

by Katie Fforde

  ‘So, Pimm's or champagne cocktail? They do both very well.'

  ‘Don't I get the chance of half a lager or cider? Or even a glass of wine?'

  ‘Nope. Make up your mind.’

  Sarah, who had heard herself described as bossy, found being bossed strangely relaxing. No wonder people didn't mind when she told them what to do – it saved so much energy not having to make decisions. 'Champagne cocktail then.’

  While he was getting drinks Sarah checked out the other customers. They were predominately middle-class, County, and wealthy. By the bar, however, there was a phalanx of locals, in shirtsleeves, worn corduroys or denim jeans and the occasional flat cap. Perhaps they were paid by the management to make the place look like a proper pub. Then she sighed in self-reproach. Why was she making snippy mental comments about the place? She knew it was because Hugo was well known here and she had made a lot of snippy comments to herself about him over the couple of years she'd known him. A moment of reflection made her wonder if it was because she had been secretly drawn to him even before the kiss and it was in self-defence, but she dismissed the idea rapidly. She really couldn't afford to go there.

  He came back with a tray with two glasses on it and two menus tucked under his arm. One of the glasses was a traditional conical champagne glass, of the kind popular before flutes became the fashion. The other was a pint glass filled with a cloudy grey liquid.

  ‘What's that?' asked Sarah, pointing to it, hoping she sounded brightly curious, not suspicious.

  ‘Ginger beer. It's very fiery – perfect if you need a drink but don't want to drink alcohol.'

  ‘Why do you need a drink?' Sarah was genuinely curious now.

  ‘Because you're a very daunting woman to be with unless you're very tired, and possibly a little drunk.' Sarah put down the glass she had been about to sip from. 'What? Me?'

  ‘Oh yes,' Hugo confirmed. 'On occasion, frankly terrifying.’

  Sarah giggled. 'I don't believe you.’

  Hugo raised his glass in a toast to her. 'Well, not completely terrifying. Anyway, here's to Somerby being the perfect venue, and here's to you: the best wedding planner in the world…' He stared into her eyes and Sarah's stomach lurched.

  Feeling totally addled by a mixture of lust and terror, she raised her glass. 'To me,' she murmured and took a sip. Sarah was confused. She wasn't sure if she could resist Hugo for much longer and was starting to wonder whether it really would be such a bad idea to get involved with him. Aside from the fact that she was obviously attracted to him, he was easygoing, fun to be around, he seemed to respect her and despite the odd rumour she didn't really believe he was anything like her ex. But she'd made it perfectly clear she didn't want to go out with him. Part of her still felt this was the right decision, but the other half hoped he might ask her again. This time she might even say yes. Not that she'd ever dream of actually hinting as much to him. No, if it happened, it happened.

  ‘It's delicious,' she said as she set her glass down.

  ‘They do make them well here, as I said. Now, what about food?' He handed Sarah a menu. 'I can recommend the scallops. And considering we're so far inland, the fish is surprisingly good.’

  As Sarah looked down the list she wished she was in an era when she could just hand the menu to her escort and ask him to order for her. 'The scallops do look nice,' she said. 'I'll have them.'

  ‘So will I. And shall we share a salad?’

  When they'd dealt with the food order and Hugo had sat back down again Sarah said, 'So, tell me about your friends' house.'

  ‘You'll see it for yourself soon. Another cocktail?’

  Sarah shook her head and found that it went on swinging internally, even after she'd stopped moving. 'Well, actually, a very large glass of water would be good.' A strong cocktail on an empty stomach hadn't been a very good idea, but being with Hugo somehow made her feel more decadent.

  They chatted easily over lunch and Hugo even managed to persuade her to have syrup sponge and custard, with cream.

  As they drove up to the house, Sarah admired the long drive (albeit in need of repair) that passed through parkland currently being grazed by small black cows. It was a proper country estate. She sat up a little straighter.

  ‘They're Dexters,' said Hugo, 'but don't ask me any more questions because I don't know the answers. They're smaller than ordinary cattle but that sums up my knowledge of them.'

  ‘I wasn't going to grill you on animal husbandry,' said Sarah, wonderfully relaxed after their lunch. Lily and Hugo were right, she did need to relax more often.

  The house was enormous and beautiful and, as Hugo had said, dilapidated. Sarah instantly understood a couple falling in love with it. 'It looks like a project for one of those television programmes when the really impossible looking gets completed in twice the time allowed but with far less money than you'd think.’

  Hugo laughed. 'They did get in touch with the television channel but it wasn't enough of a project for them.' He parked the car and, before he'd pulled on the handbrake, the front door opened and a young woman came out.

  ‘Hugo! Hi!' She was wearing jodhpurs, ancient muddy trainers and a polo shirt with a rip in the sleeve, all of which just seemed to enhance her model figure. Sarah wondered if she'd be quite so insouciant if she hadn't been so blatantly aristocratic. She flung her arms round Hugo's neck and kissed him. Then she smiled at Sarah – she might be posh but she was also friendly.

  ‘This is Sarah. Sarah, Fenella, although she prefers Fen. Fen, Sarah had a champagne cocktail for lunch so she's not quite the brisk professional she is usually. Though even with the edge taken off, she's quite something!'

  ‘Thank you for sharing that with people I've never met before!' Sarah gave him a look. Although she knew he was teasing, these were potential clients of sorts.

  ‘Oh, don't worry about him,' said Fenella, taking Sarah by the shoulder and leading her into the house. 'He always says outrageous things. It's his way of getting attention. Now come in. Oops, mind the dogs.’

  A raggle-taggle selection of dogs came towards them in a wave. There were a couple of bigger ones, which Sarah thought were pointers, and a collection of small ones, who looked unnervingly like copies of the big ones that had accidentally got into the washing machine and been shrunk. They sniffed around Sarah and Hugo but didn't say much.

  ‘Come on,' said Fenella, having herded the pack round the corner of the house to some unseen destination.

  They entered an echoing, empty hall big enough for a small ballet troupe to practise in.

  ‘Come through to the kitchen where it's a bit more cosy and I'll make some coffee. Rupert's somewhere about. The trouble is, the house is so bloody enormous we keep losing each other.’

  Fenella led Sarah and Hugo through various other rooms and corridors to the back of the house and into a huge, sunny kitchen.

  ‘This is the only room we've got enough furniture for,' said Fenella, 'and even then it's only because we put everything we've got into it.'

  ‘That's not necessarily a bad thing,' said Hugo. 'If you want to rent the house out for photographic shoots, the emptier the better. Although you'll need a few bits and pieces as props and things.'

  ‘I think we've got plenty of those. Ah, here's Rupes.’

  A tall man appeared from a door in the corner that Sarah hadn't even noticed. His clothes were as scruffy as his wife's and his welcome just as warm. 'Hi there! I'm Rupert. Welcome to the House of Usher.'

  ‘It's not at all like the House of Usher,' complained Fenella, measuring coffee beans into a grinder.

  ‘It is about to fall down though,' said Rupert, gloomily. 'Or nearly. We've got someone coming to look at one of the valley gutters. I'm dreading him telling me the whole lot needs to be redone. That'll be a few hundred grand, I reckon.'

  ‘It's only over that little wing, right at the end, one of the outbuildings,' said Fenella. 'I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it. We don't have to renovate th
at bit yet.' They'd obviously had this conversation before.

  ‘Well, in my opinion you can definitely make money out of it,' said Hugo, 'even in the state it's in. You've got some lovely rooms and as I remember the floors are in quite good nick.'

  ‘Most are, yes, but the dining-room floor is rotten as a pear.'

  ‘Not necessarily a bad thing,' said Hugo. 'You could just put down some plywood sheets and paint them white. White floors are good for photographs.'

  ‘When we've had coffee I'll give you a tour,' said Fenella.

  ‘That would be wonderful.' Sarah began to relax. Rupert and Fenella were nice and their house was lovely. It would be good to bring business their way if she possibly could.

  Fenella produced a tin of biscuits but Sarah refused one. 'Not on a diet or anything boring, are you?' asked Fenella.

  ‘Oh no, but Hugo made me eat syrup sponge and custard after an already huge lunch.'

  ‘With cream,' added Hugo.

  Everyone laughed and the others began to chat about various friends and acquaintances while Sarah itched for the tour she'd been promised.

  ‘So what are your plans for the house?' asked Sarah, as soon as there was a break in the chat about what old So-and-so was up to now.

  ‘Mainly to keep it from falling down,' said Rupert. 'Any suggestions that will help us do that will be gratefully received.'

  ‘It would be a perfect venue for weddings,' said Sarah. 'Is it licensed?’

  Fenella and Rupert looked at each other. 'We've applied. We haven't had an answer yet. We're quite hopeful.'

  ‘It would be a really beautiful setting. You could charge a huge amount of money per wedding.’

  Now her hosts were looking at Sarah. 'How much, do you think?'

  ‘Obviously it would depend on what you could offer, how many rooms could be used. If the wedding party could all stay over and party on until the night, it could be several thousand.'

  ‘What, per wedding?' Fenella seemed doubtful.

  Sarah nodded. 'You may not be quite ready to offer the total package just at the moment, but it would be something to aim for.'

  ‘And if you also offered it for magazine shoots, with accommodation, that's another nice little earner,' said Hugo.

  ‘Have you got the most enormous mortgage?' asked Sarah. 'Sorry! That was terribly rude. It's nothing to do with me.’

  Rupert dismissed her apology. 'We were frightfully lucky. I inherited it, but there wasn't a bean to go with it, so keeping it standing-'

  ‘Getting it standing, more like,' put in Fenella.

  ‘Is a major headache. It's too far from London for me to be able to commute, and if I had to stay in London that would cost even more money.'

  ‘And I don't want to be here on my own,' went on Fenella, 'especially in the state it's in.'

  ‘I completely understand,' said Sarah. 'It's too big a house to be alone in.'

  ‘We're renting out the land,' said Rupert, 'but that doesn't earn all that much.'

  ‘I do some bits and pieces locally,' said Fenella. 'But I can't earn anything like enough.'

  ‘Don't worry,' said Hugo. 'Between us, Sarah and I will make the house earn its own living. Won't we?'

  ‘We'll certainly do our best,' agreed Sarah.

  ‘Well, that's really kind,' said Rupert.

  There was a contented pause. Sarah felt warm and happy at the thought of helping this nice couple and theirwonderful house. Hugo smiled across at her as he cradled his coffee mug. They really did make a good team. 'Oh, Hugo,' said Rupert suddenly. 'I meant to ask earlier – what's this I hear about you and Electra getting engaged?’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sarah felt the breath leave her body and her strength drain out of her. It was as well she was sitting down, she thought as she concentrated on looking normal. She hadn't realised, until that moment, quite how much her feelings for Hugo had changed that day. From feeling edgy and unsure about him she had come to see that not only was she more than passingly attracted to him, but she liked and trusted him. It was an emotion she hadn't felt in years. And now this.

  ‘Er – well,' said Hugo, clearly rather thrown.

  Sarah was aware that he was looking at her but kept her eyes on a small puddle of coffee that had been left by someone's teaspoon. When she thought of what happened after Ashlyn's wedding, even if it was only kissing, it made her feel sick. If he was engaged he must have been in a committed relationship when he not only kissed her but asked her out. Was he hedging his bets? She couldn't believe how she'd let herself be taken in. At least she could congratulate herself on not agreeing to go out with him and certainly not actively encouraging him to ask again.

  ‘I heard she was mad to marry you,' said Rupert teasingly.

  ‘I think Sarah would say she would indeed be mad to marry me,' Hugo agreed amicably.

  It took Sarah every ounce of determination to meet his eyes. She had to compose herself. She'd had a shock, that was all. She'd allowed herself to hope, but the others need never know what was going on inside her at that moment. 'Oh yes. I'd definitely say that.’

  For a moment they looked directly at each other. Sarah thought she might have seen a hint of apology in Hugo's expression – an attempt at an explanation – but it didn't make her feel one iota better. What sort of woman did he think she was? Another conquest?

  ‘Sarah's very cynical for a wedding planner,' went on Hugo. Maybe she'd imagined that look. He didn't sound at all contrite.

  Feeling she was being mocked was the jolt she needed. She wouldn't let this affect her. She was strong, capable and above all a consummate professional. And it was his life – what did she really care? she told herself firmly. 'Not too cynical – just cynical enough.’

  Fenella laughed, apparently unaware of the shock Sarah had received in the past two minutes. 'You're so sensible. My parents complain that people don't stick at marriage these days and give up at the first sign of trouble. But why should you stick together for ever if you're not happy? Luckily Rupes and I are two of a kind. We fit.' She smiled fondly at her husband.

  ‘You're very lucky,' said Sarah, 'but on the whole I think it's better not to get married in the first place. But please don't tell anyone. It would be very bad for business.' Everyone laughed. 'Could I have my tour now?’

  Chairs scraped on the stone-flagged floor as everyone got up and Sarah wondered if Electra (what a name!) was the girl she'd seen Hugo with in London. Despite all her lectures to herself, how had she let her guard down enough to think he might genuinely like her? How could she have been such a fool? Still, they had to work together and her professionalism would get her through.

  ‘So,' said Fenella. 'Shall I do the tour guide bit? Or shall you?' she said to her husband.

  ‘Let's all go,' said Hugo. 'I want to see it too and Fen might not be able to answer all my technical questions.'

  ‘You are unbearably sexist, Hugo,' complained Fenella good-naturedly.

  Hugo gave his friend a lazy smile that would have made any girl's stomach clench, Sarah acknowledged – but not hers, not now. She was never going to be so silly as to even think about him again. Thank goodness she hadn't let her guard down too much before! She felt she'd had a narrow escape. If you can kiss a girl like he'd kissed her when you're engaged to someone else, you are a low-down, dirty, rotten scoundrel and not to be trusted. However charming you were.

  ‘Do you mind hanging on while I get my camera?' he asked. 'Some pictures could be really useful.'

  ‘For the "before", do you mean?' asked Rupert.

  He smiled. 'I thought Sarah could use them. She has a top celebrity client who might be interested in using Somerby as a venue.’

  Hugo went and Fenella said to Sarah, 'So who's your client? Or can't you say?'

  ‘I can't say, I'm afraid, but I'd love it if she chose to come here. Is the house very dilapidated? Oh, sorry, was that rude?'

  ‘Rude but understandable. Come on,' said Fenella, 'I'll show you. In fac
t it's not too bad structurally, as far as you can tell. The roof is mostly sound and it's not too dreadfully damp. There's woodworm but no dry rot that we've discovered. We did have a jolly thorough survey before we moved in.' She made a face. 'My parents insisted. They wanted us to sell it and buy somewhere sensible. We're getting a roof expert in tomorrow for the bit that Rupert's worried about. That did fail the test. Rupert, can you and Hugo find us when he comes back?’

  The two women left the huge kitchen and went through the green baize door to the hallway. Sarah stopped and noticed that the ceiling was dark with centuries of grime but the floor was parquet and in good order. Sarah couldn't decide just then if she thought it would benefit from several coats of paint, or was more picturesque as it was.

  The drawing room was beautiful, made so by its semicircular ceiling-to-floor windows through which summer sunshine now streamed. It too had a parquet floor that needed, according to Sarah's unskilled eye, nothing more than a good polish. The walls had the tattered remains of wallpaper that was more like a mural than paper, although a repeating pattern could be detected. Birds of paradise flitted between trailing vines and classical columns. Distant vistas included pyramids and rolling hills.

  ‘What fantastic wallpaper,' said Sarah.

  ‘Isn't it? We're hoping to get a paper restorer to tell us about it. If we were millionaires we'd get it reproduced and put it back,' said Fenella.

  ‘Even as it is, it's heavenly,' said Sarah. 'In fact I'm not sure that it would be as good if there weren't great bits missing. It might be too much.'

  ‘We had exactly the same thought, but there's probably a middle way.' Fenella paused. 'Do you really think you might persuade your client to come here? I mean, let's face it, although we've started work, it's still in relatively bad decorative order, as an estate agent would say. I'd call it shabby.’

  Sarah was outraged by this description. 'No, not shabby! Shabby-chic if you must, decaying grandeur, fading aristocracy, any of those things – but not just shabby!’