Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘This is nice,' said Elsa.

‘I expect you're wondering why there are no plants here,' said Bron. 'Roger doesn't like plants, they make a mess.'

‘Oh. I hadn't wondered actually,' she said. 'I'm hopeless with plants myself. My mother gardens.' Elsa settled herself on a cane chair. 'So you make cakes as well as work miracles with scissors?’

Bron made the same self-deprecating gesture she had before. 'Only as a hobby, really, but I've done quite a few wedding cakes for friends of friends, people like that. I don't charge for them, then they can't sue me if they're ill after eating them.' She smiled apologetically.

Elsa, struggling to make Bron feel better, laughed. 'I'm sure there's never been a case of someone being ill after eating a fruit cake.’

Bron sipped her wine and seemed to relax a little. 'Well, maybe not. Now, more importantly, tell me about the wedding.’

Elsa adjusted the cushion behind her and searched her mind for details. 'Well, the service went OK although I thought I'd die of embarrassment. I just had to keep reminding myself that they were all looking at Ashlyn, not me. And her dress looked fantastic! I thought it would be too much when she wanted beading, embroidery and lace, but it wasn't. It was rich, but not over the top. Everyone looked fab. It was a very stylish wedding, I must say.'

‘I'd love to see the photos, but I don't often get to, sadly. It's OK if the bride is a client of mine, but if we've only met once or twice, for the practice session and then the wedding, they don't usually remember.'

‘Well, we can ask Sarah. She's bound to get a look at them. Anyway, it all went really well except there was a bit of an incident with a dog in the churchyard – it was lovely but completely mad. It knocked over one of the little bridesmaids. Just as well she didn't cry, and then someone nearly tripped on the ribbon that had been round its neck.'

‘Oh, was the dog called Major by any chance?' asked Bron.

‘I have no idea. Why do you ask? He was a yellow Labrador.'

‘That must be him. I was just packing up to go when he arrived with this man. Apparently he had had to walk him all morning so he wouldn't be too hyper for the wedding.’

Elsa laughed. 'He obviously didn't walk him for long enough then!'

‘Tell me more about the wedding,' said Bron. 'I did an amazing makeover on you, I want to know all the details.’

Elsa sighed. 'OK, I suppose that's only fair.'

‘And don't miss anything out!' said Bron.

‘OK, after the service we got to the reception and Ashlyn needed the loo.' Elsa sipped her wine. 'I tell you, Bron, I had no idea how difficult those dresses were to pee in.'

‘But you do now?’

Elsa rolled her eyes. 'Oh yes! Still, we managed. I had to go too.' Elsa suddenly realised she'd got into territory she really didn't want to.

‘Go on then.'

‘I had to sit at the top table which was so embarrassing. But the best man was really nice to me, very polite.’

‘And did you dance?'

‘Sort of.' Just for a second Elsa allowed herself to remember the tall, kind man who had let her dance on his feet but she pushed away the image. It had developed a dreamlike quality since and she'd probably imagined half of it. She snapped herself back to the present. 'Oh, by the way, I think Sarah and the photographer had a bit of a thing.' Sliding over her own experiences, Elsa rather guiltily changed the subject by dumping her friend right in it.

‘No!' Bron said, instantly distracted. 'How amazing! Why do you think that?'

‘Well, they didn't seem to speak much when the photos were being taken, and the only time I caught them together she seemed quite – how should I put it – brisk.'

‘Go on,' said Bron eagerly.

‘Did you know she was staying over in the hotel?' Elsa asked.

‘Oh yes, she did say.' Bron nodded encouragingly. 'Well, as I left, I was sure I saw them slow dancing together!'

‘Really? But she always seems so… well, not frigid exactly, but sort of – buttoned up.'

‘Well, I dare say she'd had the odd glass of champagne by that time – it would have been perfectly understandable, the reception had gone like a breeze – and they were sort of locked in each other's arms.'

‘You can't know for sure,' said Bron.'Of course not.'

‘But it would be good! I don't know Sarah all that well but she never seems to go out for fun. It's always just work with her. And she and Hugo seem to get on well.' Bron fiddled with her glass. 'She muttered something about a wedding next Saturday, so maybe I'll ask her.’

Elsa stayed silent for a minute before changing the subject. Bron really didn't seem herself tonight. 'I've got to take the bridesmaid's dress back to Mrs Lennox-Featherstone,' she said brightly.

‘Oh, a bit scary. But she's really nice underneath all that posh voice and stuff, isn't she?'

‘Yes,' agreed Elsa, 'it's just a bit daunting, that's all.'

‘I'd offer to come with you but I'll probably be working, I'm afraid.'

‘It'll be OK. I'll ring up and find a good time.'

‘Do you like working for yourself, Elsa?' asked Bron, refilling the glasses. 'I've wondered about going freelance again myself.'

‘Well, in lots of ways I love it. I don't have to get dressed to go to work-'

‘Sorry?’

Elsa laughed. 'I live on the job. I rented a floor of a warehouse and me and my dad made a little flat in the corner. I just wander out from my sitting room into my workshop. I'm very strict with myself about not bringing my toast and marmalade though.’

Bron giggled and then looked a bit anxious.

‘Are you all right? You don't need to go and make Roger's supper or anything?'

‘Oh no – we had a huge lunch and then tea with his parents. I'll make him cheese on toast at about half-nine and he'll be fine.’

Elsa didn't speak. She was afraid that if she did she'd say something very uncomplimentary about Bron's partner. Even if Bron didn't seem entirely happy with the situation, it wasn't for Elsa to comment.

‘So,' went on Bron, 'what are the downsides?'

‘Loneliness, obviously. There's no one to bounce ideas off, unless I get someone in to help me with the handwork. And I do work stupid hours sometimes. But basically, I love my work, so that's OK. I go round to my parents for a proper bath from time to time. I'm very lucky.'

‘But no boyfriend?’

Elsa shook her head. `Nope. Not all that much social life, either. None of the friends I knew as a child still live round here – they've all gone and got careers elsewhere. Finchcombe isn't really a big enough town to employ too many people.'

‘No,' Bron agreed.

‘I really don't mind though,' Elsa went on. 'My mother thinks I waste my life stuck in my workroom but I'm fine with it.' She caught sight of Bron trying discreetly to look at her watch and got up. 'I'd better be off. Oh, I nearly forgot, here are the clips.' She stuffed her hand in the pocket of her jeans and produced them. 'You look tired, Bron.'

‘Mm. Maybe a little.' Bron smiled as she stood to walk Elsa to the door.

Elsa set off towards her parents' house in the older part of the town. They would need details of the wedding too, and her mother would have to see her new hair sooner or later. Her mother would give her supper too. On reflection, she didn't really want to ring Ashlyn's mother on a Sunday night. She would still be tired from the wedding and, more to the point, Elsa had drunk nearly half a bottle of wine. She didn't want to risk slurring her words – she'd ring in the morning.

As she walked, Elsa thought about Bron. Roger seemed rather domineering. He certainly had Bron firmly under his thumb and presumably wanted it to stay that way. Far better to be single than to be attached to a man like that, but then who was she to comment on someone else's relationship? Maybe he had had a bad day.