Wedding Season

by Katie Fforde

  Fenella laughed. 'OK. But will you be able to sell it to her?'

  ‘I'm not sure, to be honest. She was so set on the traditional English country church thing and I'd need to see the rest of it. And of course what it really depends on is if you can get your licence in time.'

  ‘Oh, here are the boys,' said Fenella as voices could be heard echoing through the empty house. 'Have you met Electra, Sarah?'

  ‘No.'

  ‘You'd like her. She's fun.’

  Sarah managed some sort of smile as if the prospect of meeting Electra was, while not at the top of the list of most-wanted events, at least not at the bottom. In fact, it languished a few places behind Godzilla in a temper. 'It's a beautiful house,' Sarah said to Rupert as the men joined them. 'I can't wait to see the rest of it.'

  ‘The library's through here,' said Fen. 'This is the one without a decent floor.' She opened double doors into a room as enormous as the drawing room.

  ‘Just put something down to cover it and paint it white,' said Hugo, raising his camera.

  At least while he was taking a fusillade of shots from every conceivable angle, she didn't have to talk to Hugo, and nor could Rupert and Fenella. It helped. She didn't want the subject of Electra coming up just now. By the time they left, Sarah was convinced she'd feel absolutely fine about Hugo having a fiancée – why she'd allowed him to inhabit the emotional part of her brain even for a nanosecond was beyond her. But she'd have all that soppy stuff well under control any minute now.

  ‘Let's have a look at what's through here,' she said firmly and walked as if she was thinking only of her client, the venue and the floor.

  ‘The piece de resistance is this,' said Rupert, ushering them through the door of a panelled study.

  ‘Ah, the chapel,' said Hugo. 'Amazing!'

  ‘It's actually quite a recent addition to the house,' said Fenella. 'One of Rupe's ancestors made a fortune doing something dubious like slave-trading – exploiting someone, anyway – and absolved his sins by building this. It's not to my taste, actually.’

  A high, vaulted ceiling, a marble floor and three stained-glass windows at the end made it look, to Sarah's eyes, more like a small church than somewhere for a mere family to worship. In fact, she'd arranged weddings in churches that felt far smaller.

  ‘It's an almost perfect example of the High Church revival,' said Rupert. 'Not exactly a copy of much earlier churches but it reflects the best medieval precedents and shows a return to sacramental tradition.'

  ‘You sound very knowledgeable,' said Hugo. 'Been boning up on it all, have you?'

  ‘Of course.' Rupert laughed a little defiantly. 'I'm almost an expert now.'

  ‘Don't encourage him, Hugo,' said Fenella. 'He'll bang on for hours if you let him.'

  ‘What I need to know,' said Sarah, on tenterhooks for the answer, 'is could you actually use it for weddings? Getting a licence for the house is one thing, but if you could have the ceremonies here, it would be even more wonderful.’

  Fenella and Rupert exchanged glances. 'That's what we're hoping for,' said Fenella. 'Like you, we thought using the house for weddings would be nice, but if people could actually get married in the chapel, well, that would be brilliant.'

  ‘The aunts, who I inherited from, were always thinking up money-making schemes and I know they talked abut weddings, but I'm not sure if they got as far as getting it licensed.'

  ‘We haven't followed up seeing about getting the chapel licensed because we thought the house was in far too bad order for us to use it,' explained Fenella. 'We didn't know what we wanted to do anyway. It's only quite recently that we decided the house needs to earn money and not just us.'

  ‘Would it still be consecrated?' asked Hugo. 'Presumably if it is, you could still have weddings here.’

  Fenella shook her head. 'Don't know that either. Sorry to seem so stupid. We haven't been moved in all that long.'

  ‘I know,' said Hugo. 'I was at your house moving party when you left the old place.’

  Sarah felt that at any moment she might be exposed to distressing details of what Hugo got up to at that party, whom he met, or went home with, and how much fun Electra was. She wanted to get back on track. 'So do you have to go through the house to get into it? I'm just wondering-'

  ‘No!' Rupert interrupted her gleefully. 'The beauty part' – he strode across the aisle to the other side – 'is that it has access to the outside world. It was so the local people could use it too. At the time there was something happening that meant the local church was out of action, and so the ancestor who was building this had the side door put in.'

  ‘This could be so perfect,' said Sarah, almost trembling with excitement and anxiety. Please, she muttered, don't show me this fabulous venue and then let it be unusable. 'I'd be so grateful if you could find out if it's licensed, or still consecrated or whatever. I'm sure I could talk my client into coming here, if it would be legal. It would be just the place.'

  ‘Let's have a look at it from the side door. It's no good trying to persuade her to walk through a ploughed field,' said Hugo.

  ‘We could mow the grass,' said Rupert.

  They all went out of the side door. A long path came up a gentle slope from a small wooded area by the road, through parkland to the door of the chapel.

  ‘If she really wants all the extras,' said Hugo, 'I've got a mate who does film sets. He'd turn this into a graveyard as traditional as you liked.'

  ‘I'd try to convince Carrie not to have a fake churchyard,' said Sarah. Too late, she realised she shouldn't have used Carrie's name.

  ‘Oh my God!' said Fenella. 'You're not talking about Carrie Condy, are you? I am a major fan of hers.'

  ‘She is a surprisingly good actress for one with her assets,' went on Rupert.

  ‘Mm,' said Hugo, obviously thinking about them too. Sarah felt herself blush. It was totally unlike her to be so unprofessional – it was bloody Hugo's fault! 'Well, yes, it is her, but please – I beg of you – don't tell anyone! I should never have let her name out like that. I should be sacked!’

  ‘But it's your company,' said Hugo.

  ‘I should think of something else to do for a living!’

  ‘Well, don't beat yourself up about it,' said Fenella, sensing Sarah really was distressed. 'We won't tell anyone. We certainly wouldn't want to jeopardise her coming here. It would be so wonderful!'

  ‘It'll mean a lot of hard work, poppet,' said Rupert to his wife. He turned to Sarah. 'Would she want the whole house? Including bedrooms?’

  Sarah nodded, priding herself on being back in full control of her emotions again. 'It would be a hell of a lot of work. She might want to use the bedrooms to get dressed in and stuff, even if she stays in a hotel. But financially, it would be well worthwhile for you to do them up.' She paused. 'I'd get a good deposit for you, so you could do the work.'

  ‘We've got some capital we could use but not really enough. Would the deposit cover all the extra help we'd need to get in?' asked Fenella.

  ‘I'd make sure it would,' said Sarah, determined at that moment to bring her celebrity wedding here whatever it took. It would put Somerby on the venue map as nothing else could.

  ‘So how do you get paid, if that's not a rude question?' asked Rupert.

  ‘I like to negotiate a flat fee if I can,' said Sarah. 'That's what I'm doing with Carrie. Not all wedding planners do it like that, but I prefer it. It gives me an incentive to get good deals so that my clients have saved money by having me. Or at least,' she went on, thinking back to some of the weddings she'd organised, 'not spent hugely more.'

  ‘So we wouldn't have to pay you?' asked Fenella, obviously doubtful.

  ‘No! I'm not saying some of the big hotels don't give me good rates, things like that, but I don't take backhanders. I want to be neutral, so I look for the perfect venue for each client.'

  ‘Very virtuous,' muttered Hugo.

  Sarah shot him a black look, but realised she was more angry with herself t
han him.

  ‘It could all be so perfect!' said Fenella, suddenly all dreamy.

  ‘Yes,' agreed Sarah and then she remembered – her bloody sister's wedding. She turned to Hugo. 'How long would it take to get from Steeple Colby-’

  Hugo might have been a complete bastard, but he was quick on the uptake. 'Oh, your sister's wedding?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Not sure. An hour, possibly?’

  Sarah closed her eyes while she worked things out. How soon could she reasonably leave her sister's wedding, overlooking the fact that she shouldn't leave it at all? What was the minimum time she could spend with Carrie before the event, given that Elsa and Bron would be with her, getting dressed and stuff. When she opened her eyes again she hadn't found an answer to her question. Fen and Rupert were looking concerned. 'Sorry – nothing for you two to worry about. It's just that my sister has chosen to get married the very same day as Carrie Condy.'

  ‘And she can't change-’

  Sarah interrupted Fenella's question. 'It's at her fiancé's parents' church, the date is booked and she's pregnant. They wouldn't be able to get another Saturday for weeks, by which time the baby would be showing.'

  ‘Ah,' said Fenella, obviously understanding the dilemma. 'Do his parents know she's pregnant?'

  ‘I think so, but none of the other relations must know. They'd really prefer for her to be a virgin bride although she's been married before.' Sarah knew she shouldn't be sharing all this intimate information with virtual strangers but it helped to talk about it and Fenella seemed understanding and discreet.

  ‘Well, if you do have Carrie's wedding here, I'll help you as much as I can,' said Fenella. 'After all, a lot of what you do is checking on caterers, things like that, isn't it?'

  ‘Mm,' said Sarah.

  ‘Well, I'm used to doing things like that. And if it's here, I'll want everything to go as smoothly as possible.’

  Fenella was very reassuring. It was probably a good thing Sarah had washed a little family linen in public.

  ‘That could be marvellous – I usually arrive at a venue at dawn and leave twenty-four hours later…' She made a deprecating gesture. 'Well, sometimes it feels like that. I do have to make sure everything is tidy.'

  ‘It sounds exhausting!' said Fenella sympathetically.

  ‘It is quite full on, but most of the hard work is done beforehand and if you trust your suppliers and it all goes well, it's very satisfying.'

  ‘Well, don't you worry about this end,' said Fenella. 'If Carrie Condy has her wedding here, she won't regret it. I promise.’

  Looking at Fenella, Sarah felt confident that she was organised, determined and brave. She hoped she wouldn't need her to be brave to help with Carrie's wedding, but the other two characteristics were essential. 'I'm going to work really hard on getting her to decide on Somerby,' she said. 'And if not Carrie, the very next wedding that might be remotely suitable.’

  If effort of will alone could have made Sarah sprout wings and fly home and thus avoid travelling with Hugo, it would have happened. But even more mundane solutions like hiring a car or finding a taxi were too difficult. After all, she didn't want to announce to Fenella, Rupert and Hugo himself that she was so upset with him for not having told her he was engaged that they couldn't share a car. It sounded childish, even to herself.

  So when the time came, and she'd hugged both Rupert and Fenella, she got in and accepted her fate.

  The moment he'd closed the door of the car, Hugo said, 'Sarah, I want to explain about Electra-’

  She flung her hands up in a warding-off gesture, suddenly feeling like her sister Lily. She would have preferred him to wait until she was somewhere that would allow her to leap out of the car on the pretext of calling in on old friends. 'No, no, please don't! Why should you? It's nothing to do with me.'

  ‘The thing is, I feel I should explain-'

  ‘No!' She stopped feeling like Lily and became her own, fierce self again. 'Please don't. It's quite unnecessary.' She laughed, trying to prove that she hadn't been remotely fazed by the announcement. 'Just don't ask me to arrange a wedding on the eighteenth of August! I don't think I could fit in another one on that day.’

  Hugo sighed. 'I promise I won't do that.'

  ‘Super.' Sarah was pleased with her apparent insouciance. Maybe if she acted it long enough and hard enough she'd gradually begin to feel it.

  ‘So, keeping my personal life off limits, what did you think of the venue?'

  ‘Fabulous! Really, really good. I just hope it's licensed for weddings.'

  ‘You could get Carrie to get married in a register office a couple of days before and then have a blessing at Somerby. It could look nearly like a proper wedding.'

  ‘I had thought of that and it's my back-up solution, but selling the idea to Carrie will be really difficult. It's just not traditional.'

  ‘But it's been done by a lot of celebs lately.'

  ‘I know, but I want to pursue the normal route first. If it's possible, it would be much the best.' She paused, knowing that she should now take time to thank Hugo for taking her to such a beautiful house. She bit her lip. 'Thank you so much for taking me to Somerby. It's really lovely.' There, it was done.

  Hugo sighed again. He seemed a lot less cheery than he had been on the outward journey – depressed, almost. 'That's OK, Sarah. I am only too happy to help you. And Fen and Rupert, of course.'

  ‘How did you meet them?' With relief, Sarah steered their conversation off the rocks and into calm water. She could listen to Hugo go on about what Rupert got up to at school until they finally got home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bron was just locking the car, having put postcards about her mobile hairdressing service in all the local post offices in the area, and anywhere else who would put one up, when her phone rang. As she burrowed about for it she wondered if leaving the salon had been rash -she could spend more on fuel than she earned driving all over the country to do her work. But how could she have borne to go on working there? She'd be forever picturing her boss in a red nylon thong – not a pretty sight.

  She found the phone at last. It was Roger's mother. 'Hello, Pat!' Bron tried to sound upbeat because she could tell that Pat was anything but.

  ‘Bron, I don't know what to say. Are you still speaking to me?'

  ‘Of course! Why shouldn't I be?'

  ‘Because of what that wretched boy has done. And I hear you've had to give up your job, too!'

  ‘Well-'

  ‘Have you found another one?'

  ‘Not yet. I've been quite busy and-'

  ‘Well, that Sasha will have to give you severance pay, all that sort of thing.'

  ‘You don't need to be so upset, Pat. You and I can still be friends. Not sure about Sasha,' she added, under her breath.

  Pat was still riddled with guilt-by-association. 'But how, when my son has behaved so appallingly?’

  Bron exhaled, quietly she hoped. 'Shall I come round?’

  It was Pat's turn to exhale. 'Would you? I hate to ask, in the circumstances, but I've got an important do on tomorrow and I really need my hair doing. Not' – she went on hurriedly – 'that that's the only reason I want to see you. I hope you don't think that.’

  Bron laughed. 'I'd love to come and see you and do your hair. We're friends. We must try and keep Roger out of it.'

  ‘Hmph! Sometimes I wish I could keep that boy out of my house! What a way to carry on!’

  Bron was glad to be getting out of the house and if Pat paid for her hairdo, and she'd probably insist on it, it would give her a little petty cash to live on. Could she get enough weddings and clients to go properly freelance? she wondered. Or would she have to go further away and find another salon to work in? Carrie's wedding would certainly help.

  It was both strange and familiar to park her car in Roger's parents' drive. His father would be at work and had he been home, Bron would have been far more reluctant to visit. She and Pat had always got on well
, but Roger's father was another matter. Vince and Bron had never seen eye to eye.

  Pat's arms opened to Bron at the same time as she opened the door. 'Lovie! How could he do that? He's such a silly boy!’

  Bron returned the hug sincerely. 'We weren't right for each other really. We wouldn't have made each other happy ultimately, or why did he sleep with Sasha?’

  ‘Strumpet!' said Pat and Bron giggled.

  ‘That's a good word!'

  ‘A very satisfying one. I've been practising. Now come on in. I've bought your favourite biscuits; we can get it all off our chests. How long has he been having an affair with your boss?’

  This simple question gave her a bit of a shock. 'I've no idea!' The word 'affair' implied it had been going on for some time. Had it, or had it been the first time? Something told her it hadn't. All the lies and deception that must have gone on made her humiliated in retrospect. She shuddered. 'Has she moved in, do you know?'

  ‘I think so.' Pat put her hand on Bron's arm. 'He's bringing her to lunch on Sunday. I insisted. She said she didn't want to come – I heard her in the background – but if you do the dirty on someone, you have to face up to your wrongdoing.’

  Bron realised suddenly that Pat was far more upset about this than she was. 'Oh, Pat, let's have coffee and those biscuits. I'm fine about it now. I've got a lovely little cottage to rent – for not too much money – everything's lovely!’

  Pat led the way to the kitchen where she clicked the kettle on. 'It's just like you to be brave about it, but he's behaved very badly.’

  Pat's expression made Bron think she was about to send him round to her house to say sorry, as if he'd broken a window playing cricket or something.

  ‘Really, don't worry about it. It's fine.' Had Pat not been Roger's mother, Bron would have gone on to say it was a merciful relief not having to live with Roger any more. He was controlling, bad-tempered and not great in bed.

  ‘It's OK, really it is. Now what's this event you're going to? Are you happy with the colour? Or is it just a cut and blow-dry? I could come round early tomorrow if you like.'