Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘I just feel us girls are part of a crew now,' said Carrie as the chauffeur held open the car door. 'It'll take the stress out of the whole wedding thing.’

While the others chatted gently, Sarah looked out of the window, as always loving being driven through London in the evening. Summer or winter, it always held a feeling of excitement and promise. She was happy with the way things had gone. Carrie was delighted with everything that had been arranged so far and while she was still intent on getting married in a pretty church on a summer Saturday, she was more aware of the difficulties of achieving this dream.

They swept along Park Lane. Hyde Park seemed to be in a celebratory mood. Some trees were decorated with fairy lights and Sarah had a sudden urge to stop the car so she could get out and walk. She didn't, of course; she was being sensible. After they'd all freshened up for dinner, she would escort her team to a wonderful restaurant for a meal. But just briefly she'd wanted to take off her shoes and walk through the grass and smile at the people and pretend she didn't have any responsibilities.

The car slowed at some lights as they passed a boutique hotel when they were somewhere in Belgravia and Sarah saw a taxi draw up outside it. Hugo, now wearing a dinner jacket, his hair artistically ruffled, came down the steps and opened the door of the taxi and ushered in a very beautiful young woman. Her heart clenched for a moment. A second later she'd convinced herself it was nothing. He was entitled to go out to dinner with whomever he liked.

She turned back to the others. 'Did you say that Celeb magazine was interested in covering the wedding, Mandy?' she asked.

Mandy nodded. 'It's not definite yet, but they're interested.' She lowered her voice. 'They contribute to the cost quite a bit if they have exclusive pictures.'

‘Well, that's brilliant! Would you need Hugo as well? ' Sarah was suddenly hopeful. Maybe she wouldn't have to work with him after all.

‘Oh yes,' said Carrie. 'Even if they sent one, we'd need him for the more intimate shots you wouldn't want in a magazine.'

‘Oh. I hadn't thought of that.' She sat back down in her seat. 'And do you have a preference for a videographer? You will want the wedding videoed, won't you?'

‘Absolutely,' said Carrie. 'I may ask people I know in the business to do it for me, but if you have anyone you can recommend..

‘I'll give you all the details.' Sarah pulled out her notebook and jotted it down.

‘This is the hotel you asked for, ladies,' said the chauffeur a little while later.

As they landed on the pavement, having scrambled out of the limo and kissed Mandy and Carrie fondly goodbye, Elsa said, 'I'm never sure I like being called "ladies".'

‘Well, trust me, there's no acceptable way of referring to a group of women,' said Sarah crisply, still a little unsettled by her glimpse of Hugo. 'I've tried them all: girls, women, ladies; they all sound bad.’

In the foyer of the hotel, Sarah looked at her watch. 'Shall we meet back down here at half past, then?'

‘OK,' said Bron. 'But if you want me to do your hair, let me know. I'm going to have a look at Elsa's.'

‘Does that mean you think it needs doing?' Sarah patted her head anxiously, ignoring Elsa's squeak of surprise.

‘Yes,' said Bron. 'You wash it, I'll blow-dry it for you.'

‘But you've just done Carrie's,' Sarah objected, 'and if you're doing Elsa's as well..

‘Doing Carrie's was what my dad would have called "speculating in order to accumulate".' She grinned. 'It's brilliant that she wants me to do it for the wedding. It is unusual for her not to have her own stylist.’

Sarah shrugged. 'Maybe it's because she hasn't got that many close friends and wants people she knows around her.’

Bron shook her head. 'She must just not get on well personally with her stylist. But it's great news for me! And, I get to make her cake! Thank you so much for bringing me along, Sarah.' And she hugged her friend.

Later, with everyone's hair newly styled and Sarah's a good couple of inches shorter, they found an Italian restaurant within tottering distance – Bron's heels weren't up to much forward motion. As three women on their own, they were welcomed with much flattering attention and given a table next to the garden. They could look out through the French doors to trees hung with fairy lights and what turned out up close to be plastic lemons.

Considering how lovely it was, Sarah felt touched with melancholy. She couldn't help wondering if Hugo was sharing a similarly luscious London garden with the beautiful girl she'd seen him with. Or they might be in some smart club, dancing the night away before kissing each other to death in the back of a taxi. She stifled a sigh and took the menu she was being handed.

‘This is fun,' she said, determined to shake off her strange mood. She'd had a really successful day with Carrie, and her hair looked great. What Hugo did in his spare time was no business of hers, even if she did think, rather wistfully, that it could have been her this evening, being whisked off to dinner. She gave herself a mental shake – she must enjoy herself, for the others' sake if nothing else. 'This is almost like a hen night.'

‘Well, I wouldn't know,' said Elsa. 'I've never been on a hen night but I get the impression they can be very raucous. I have seen some pictures.' She made a face. 'We won't be getting drunk, will we?'

‘A bit, maybe,' said Bron. 'It's not often none of us is driving.'

‘True,' said Sarah. 'Let's order.’

This took a fair bit of doing as they kept forgetting about the food and talking about bits and pieces that had happened during the day. When at last the waiter had taken back the menus and promised to bring the wine right away, Elsa said, 'Hen night or not, it's going to be fun.'

‘I must say, it's the sort of hen night I'd have if I was ever going to get married, which I'm not of course,' said Sarah, more out of habit than anything else.

‘Aren't you?' said Elsa.

Sarah shook her head. 'Definitely not. I've seen them go wrong too often. My sister was married for about six months before it collapsed.'

‘And now she's getting married again?' said Bron.

Sarah nodded, a pained expression on her face. 'You should have seen the dresses she wanted to wear. Little wasp-waisted things, boned to the hilt.'

‘But they're lovely!' said Elsa. 'I make those sort of dresses.'

‘Not for people who are pregnant, you don't,' said Sarah.

‘Oh no,' Elsa agreed. 'Maybe I don't.' She paused. 'I wonder what I'd put your sister in, if I had a choice.'

‘Have you had lots of pregnant brides to deal with?' asked Bron.

‘A couple. It's not usually a big deal, except for the photos.’

Sarah sighed. 'I wish you'd talk to Lily. She's insistent that her mother-in-law will go mad if anyone suspects she's not a virgin bride. Mad, really.’

`So what is she having?' asked Elsa.

‘Not sure yet. But at least this time she's in a proper relationship, with a decent man. They've been going out for over a year.’

`I'm not sure that's long enough,' said Bron, picking up a breadstick and crunching the end of it.

‘No? How long have you and Roger been together, then?' Sarah caught a sad note in Bron's voice but wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about it.

‘A couple of years.'

‘So,' said Elsa. 'What kind of dress would you have, Bron?'

‘Oh, I don't know. Haven't thought about it.’

Sarah, who had moved on from wedding dresses said, 'I wonder if I could branch out and arrange hen nights? The trouble is, I'm not sure I'd want to deal with the tackyextras – the cowboy hats, the French maid outfits.'

‘You could arrange classy hen nights: spa holidays, maybe even learning something, like cooking or – I don't know – pottery,' suggested Elsa.