Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘And poor Fen, having to rustle up lunch for us all. Although I suppose she has had just enough time to get in caterers, if she felt she needed to.'

‘Mm.' Hugo obviously wasn't listening. He'd heard all this several times before and knew a response wasn't really called for.

‘And what's the house going to look like in all this rain!’

Hugo glanced at her, giving her an opportunity to see his charming crooked smile. 'Wet! Now stop fretting. It's going to be fine.’

She did feel less anxious about Carrie and Mandy's last-minute visit to Somerby, to which she had been summoned, but the pang she got from Hugo's crinkled eyes and sexy mouth was not helpful. How could she react like that to him when she had so much on her mind and when she'd told herself that he was off limits? Two damn weddings on the same day should be enough to stop her having unsuitable feelings for an unsuitable man, surely? How can there possibly be space in her mind for anything except the job in hand? Her guard was weakening, she could tell. He was so attractive and so skilled at calming her fears, she found it hard not to keeping wondering, 'What if?’

And she couldn't stop thinking about his exhibition. The quality of his work, the fact that some had been sold before the show even opened, was amazing. He was so talented. And yet here he was, helping her with a wedding, albeit a celebrity wedding. Then she thought about Electra and felt down again. It wasn't only that she existed, and that he was engaged to her, but the fact that she seemed so wrong for him. He loved children: she had seen him with them, and she had seen him photograph them. And he'd just been telling her about his nephew and niece as they hit the motorway. His face lit up when he mentioned them. What was he doing with a woman who cared more about her abs than being a mother? If she thought they'd be happy together, it would be easier – possibly.

‘If only it would stop raining!' she moaned, using the rain as an excuse for her sudden despondency.

‘I think the sky is lightening over there,' he said, then switched the windscreen wipers up to full.

The house was still beautiful, thought Sarah as they came within sight of it. On a small hill, surrounded by parkland and trees, it looked like a painting, animated by raindrops falling on the leaves of the trees. There were two big black cars parked in front of the house, announcing clearly that Carrie and her entourage had arrived. Sarah had hoped she and Hugo would be first but at least the others had found the place.

Hugo stopped the car at the bottom of the drive. 'Let's just have a moment to ourselves to enjoy the stillness before we go in, shall we?' He smiled reassuringly at her and once again her stomach did a flip. Why did he always have to be so nice to her?

Sarah wound down the window. The smell of summer wafted into the car. She couldn't identify any particular scent but the mixture was wonderful. Somewhere a bird sang, a solitary sound among the gentle pit-pat of water on leaves. If she hadn't been in her smart working clothes, and had a mac or something, she would have got out and smelt the air at closer quarters, but she couldn't.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes until Hugo said, 'Shall we go on?'

‘Not just yet.' Sarah wanted to stay in the car, listening to the gentle hiss of the rain and the bird before she had to go back to being the high-powered wedding planner she was every other minute of her life. But she couldn't do that either. She took a deep breath and said, 'We'd better get going now.’

Hugo turned the key in the ignition and they drove up to the house.

Fenella must have been listening for the car. She rushed out the moment they reached the front door and pulled open the car door before the engine had stopped. 'Thank God you're here, it's not going well. They must have whistled down here! We weren't ready really, and I got up at five.’

Fenella was looking elegant in a harassed way in silk trousers, matching top and a floaty jacket. The top was half tucked into the trousers as if she had been interrupted while dressing.

‘It'll be fine,' said Sarah, surprised at how calm she sounded. 'Don't worry. We just need to paint the picture for her.'

‘They're muttering about the condition everything is in. It's not the traditional setting Carrie wanted, and I don't know what else!'

‘Don't worry, Fen,' said Hugo, giving her a friendly hug. 'Uncle Hugo's here. He'll make everything work out.’

This did make Fenella give a little chuckle as she exchanged glances with Sarah. There was no doubt, he was a calming presence.

Carrie, Mandy and a couple of men Sarah didn't know were standing around in the dining room. Sarah could see that the floor had been covered with hardboard and painted white and looked amazing, but the room felt cold and Carrie, in a strappy top, was rubbing her arms. Mandy was similarly attired and they did not look happy. A wet summer day in England must have felt arctic to them. Sarah knew she'd have to find something for them to put on or they'd never agree to anything.

‘Oh, hi! Sarah! You're here. At last,' said Carrie, coming forward and kissing Sarah. Sarah felt her reproach – not only for suggesting this unsuitable venue but for being late. 'And Hugo!' He got a warmer reception, possibly because his arms were warm and she was cold.

‘So sorry you were kept waiting,' he said when he'd released her. 'We hit very bad traffic in Hereford.’

While Hugo was chatting to Carrie and Mandy and soothing ruffled feathers, Sarah touched Fenella's sleeve. 'You haven't got a couple of pashminas or cardigans or something for them to borrow? They won't come here if they're cold.’

Fenella hesitated only a moment. 'Pashminas. I've got loads of them. People always give them to me as presents. I'll be right back.’

As good as her word, she came back while Hugo was still making Carrie and Mandy giggle in a shameless way. 'Here, ladies, take one of these each,' she said gracefully, as if it was perfectly normal to dole out shawls in English country houses.

Carrie and Mandy were charmed and grateful. Fenella had colour coded them too.

‘Sorry,' said Hugo to the two dark-suited men, 'I'm Hugo Marsters, photographer to the stars.' He laughed to show he was being ironic. The men he was addressing didn't laugh back.

‘We're Carrie's lawyers,' said one and went on to introduce himself and his colleague. 'We're here to see Carrie doesn't get ripped off.’

One of them had a smile as practised as Hugo's but it did nothing for Sarah. She just laughed lightheartedly, pretending that everything was wonderful and all was going just as she'd planned it. 'I thought that was my job!' Then she put her hand on a cashmere-jacketed arm. 'Fen, are we in time for lunch?' She could do charming too.

‘We're having it in the kitchen,' said Fenella. Her fake cheerfulness was less skilled than Sarah's. 'I thought it would be more cosy in there. The Aga's going full bore.' As the party filed through the house, Sarah could see a lot of work had gone on since she'd last seen it. But instead of the oohs and ahs of appreciation she was expecting, Sarah heard murmurs of disapproval. Anxiety clenched at her stomach and she hoped Fenella had provided wine. If Carrie turned down Somerby, which reeked of upper-class elegance, where on earth else could she provide that she would like and with only a month to go? If Carrie had a couple of glasses of something she might feel more positive.

The huge kitchen was a picture of country-house glamour, she thought. Fenella and Rupert had obviously made a real effort to make it look picturesque but practical and in her opinion, they'd brought it off superbly.

A huge variety of pots, pans and kitchenalia, antique and modern together, were displayed on the wall above the Aga and the range cooker. Copper-bottomed bowls, little pans, cheese-graters, nutmeg-graters, a wire egg basket shaped like a hen, balloon whisks, ladles, conical sieves hung next to spatulas, colanders, spoons and a string of garlic.