Jane Linfoot - The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea

And finally the penny drops. He’s a wedding photographer. And the couple he’s talking about are the bride and groom I’ve been trying to get hold of all weekend, and they’re coming here this afternoon. If ever I wanted a fairy godmother moment, this is it. Not only has a hunk of a guy been delivered to my office – not lusting, just admiring here, you understand – but my most dreaded task of the morning just melted away.

‘Of course, I’m so sorry,’ I begin. ‘We’ve had staff changes, you’re down in the book for later.’ Shhhh, I know it’s a porky, but he’s not to know there isn’t a book yet. ‘It’s absolutely fine for you to be here now.’ I can tell Immie thinks I’m gushing, but I’m so damned relieved. ‘I’m Poppy Pickering, Events Manager, tell me what you’d like me to do, and I’m all yours.’

I grab Jules’ hand and give it a vigorous shake, ignoring Immie, smirking behind her fingers.

‘I’m in my 4x4,’ Jules voice is half purr, half growl. ‘If you could possibly spare the time to show me a few locations …? With the weather as it is, we’ll be working to big up the rugged side. I’m on the lookout for five bar gates, craggy trees, backdrops of sky, picturesque barn doors, stuff like that.’

‘No problem.’ Immie is straight in there. ‘I know this farm like the back of my …’

Whatever happened to those pressing weekend check outs she was off to? Not to mention her disdain for men in general. No doubt if she stopped to think about it with her uni head on, she’d have a lot to say about how her reproductive instincts are completely over-riding her sensible brain, when she’s faced with this vision of genetic male perfection. I’m guessing Jules’ resemblance to an over-sized puppy probably swung it for the animal lover in Immie too.

I jump in before she has me sidelined completely. ‘It’s fine, I know you’re busy Immie, I’ll handle Jules.’ Wincing a bit at the word choice there, but I’ve been to so many weddings, and poured longingly over the pictures afterwards, wishing it were me, that I know exactly what he’s wanting. And this is my first real taste of my new job. ‘Promise I’ll shout if I need you Immie.’ I sweep across the office to grab my jacket, noting that the fairy dust hasn’t extended as far as the yurt coat. With luck and a following wind Jules might read my over-sized Barbour as extreme boho chic. ‘Shall we go?’ I’m suddenly tingling with excitement at the thought. And it’s nothing to do with any hot guy hormone rush, it’s all about getting Daisy Hill Farm Weddings up and running.

As the day goes on, Jules proves to be a lot more than a pretty face. He’s scarily organised, meticulous about his work, and he’s brilliant at putting people at their ease. And I don’t only mean the happy couple, Ben and Lara here, I also mean me. Somehow the morning disappeared as we whizzed around finding suitable gateways and hilltops for the shoot. And the next thing I knew, I was agreeing to swap my afternoon plans to work on the website for Daisy Hill Farm, and go and be a photographer’s assistant instead.

‘It’ll be a great way of getting to know Lara and Ben,’ Jules promised. ‘And in return, I’ll help with that website you seem so stressy about.’ Given he offered to provide me with an unending supply of wedding pictures, in return for credits, and that I’m shooting in the dark as far as websites go, the only answer was ‘yes’.

I also took my notebook, and jotted as we chatted. So I now know that there will be forty guests in the day and a hundred in the evening. At night they’ll be dining on hot dogs, served from a retro burger van. The ceremony is booked for midday at the church, which means I don’t have to deal with registrars this time, and they’d love Morgan to help with the parking. I also got the names of the marquee company, the caterers, the florists, the stylists, and the furniture hire people, not forgetting the band. All of whom will be arriving to set up.

The downside for me was the twang in my chest as Lara and Ben chatted about their excitement, and all the details for the day. At Brides by the Sea, when I’m discussing cake orders or helping with dress fittings, I see brides with their friends, or their mums, and that’s fine. But being so involved in helping a couple realise their wedding dreams is something else. Ben dropping devoted kisses onto the top of Lara’s head, untangling the hair on her forehead, gently twisting her engagement ring round so the camera would catch it. Lara digging her elbow in his ribs and teasing him about his wedding spreadsheet. All the coupley love I’ve lost is being paraded under my nose. Whereas in normal life if I see it I can simply look the other way, here it’s part of my job. There isn’t a Wedding Coordinator in the world who wouldn’t get involved. Yet when I see the easy way his arm flops over her shoulder, as they put their heads together and share a joke about for better or for worse, I’m there thinking how close I came to doing the same. That this was almost me.

‘Let’s just do it.’ Those were Brett’s exact words, the last time we talked about us getting married. If someone said that to you, you’d think it was happening wouldn’t you? You would feel safe to build up those expectations you’d held in check so carefully for so many years. And a week later he’d stuffed it all up.

I hadn’t expected being a firsthand spectator in someone else’s wedding build-up to hurt quite this much. And in the next few months I’m going to be faced with couple after couple, all about to tie the knot, and every time it’s going to make me feel like shit.

‘Are you okay over there, Pops?’ It’s Jules calling, and he’s already fast forwarded to Immie’s nickname for me. More scarily, he’s also picked up that I’ve dropped out of the game momentarily. ‘Any chance you could bring the steps over?’

Judging by the pictures Jules has been flashing at me on the screen of his camera as we’ve worked our way around the picturesque places on the farm, he’s a hot shot photographer.

‘So, for this one last picture, how about you both climb up onto the wall.’ Jules yells to be heard above the wind.

I whisk the step ladder in place right on cue, help Lara and Ben into position, then whip the steps out of shot. As Ben and Lara shuffle uncomfortably on top of the wall, I pull my woolly hat over my eyes, and haul up my coat collar.

‘We’re going for wild here, sit facing each other, let your jackets flop open, and let the wind blow you.’ Jules leaps around, his movements fluid and easy, snapping from all angles, constantly checking his shots. ‘Camera bag please, Poppy, I’ve a feeling the sun’s about to break through those clouds.’

I lug the holdall across to him, and he swaps cameras, and seamlessly swoops to take more shots of the couple laughing amidst chaotic strands of windswept hair, silhouetted against the sudden brightness of the sky behind. He’s been like this all afternoon – exhausting, yet exhilarating to watch, working with what was there, seizing every opportunity, catching Lara’s surprise when a flurry of rooks rose from the trees. The moment when Lara fell off the gate and Ben instinctively dived to catch her in his arms.

‘Okay, got you. Everyone into the car, we’ll head back to the farm.’

His voice is throaty, as he swigs from a bottle of water as he jumps into the driving seat, and throws a flask of coffee to Ben and Lara in the back seat. ‘Here, warm up with that, you’ve both been stars out there.’ His nonstop praise has definitely kept Lara going when she looked like she was flagging.