Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘Thank you so much,' she said, stuttering a little. 'I can't believe I won!'

‘Your dress wasn't the grandest,' said Natasha, kissing her cheek, 'but it was the prettiest and you look so lovely in it. Where did you get it made? I can tell it's not hired.'

‘Oh, I made it myself,' Elsa said making a dismissive movement with her fingers.

‘But it's amazing!' said Natasha. 'Did you hear that? She made her dress herself!’

Now the prize-giving was over, other women gathered round Elsa and Natasha. They inspected Elsa's dress more closely.

‘It's lovely. And you do it professionally?’

Elsa nodded. 'Mm. I make wedding dresses mostly.’

‘You haven't got a business card in your reticule have you?' said Natasha.

Elsa was writing her website address down for what felt like the tenth time when a woman said, 'You don't take on work-experience students, do you? My daughter's doing A level Art but all she ever does is sew. She loves it and wants to go to fashion college.’

Elsa considered. 'Although I do occasionally have help, I've never had anyone for work experience. But I have got a big commission coming up. It might be very useful if your daughter can really use a needle.' She thought of all the crystals that would have to be sewn on by hand. She could try her out at least.

‘It's in a fortnight. If you say you'd have her, my Mummy Points will sky rocket,' said the woman. 'The only work experience that is even near what she wants is working in a clothes shop.'

‘Well, my work will be quite menial but it'll be with lovely fabrics. Tell her to get in touch.’

Elsa was quite happy chatting to these women eager for her services about what she knew best but then Laurence touched her elbow.

‘Come on, we've got to do a victory waltz. On our own. This is when we really find out if your dancing lesson paid off!’

Something happened. Perhaps because Elsa was feeling good about herself after her work had been validated by all those eager people, or because they'd already had a trial run, or for some other, inexplicable reason, but something happened. A switch went on and she and Laurence truly connected.

She didn't notice the applause, she only heard the music and felt Laurence's arm lightly on her back, intimating to her which way to go. She floated, rising and falling on the music of the Viennese waltz. In her head she was in the Vienna Opera House for the night of the Opera Ball. Round and round they went and she felt she was in heaven.

The feeling wasn't only about the dancing, she knew that. She felt a charge between them; now they felt like a man and a woman, not just two random people who happened to be at the same party.

She was aware of other couples joining them on the dance floor and when the music finally ended she and Laurence were at the edge. He was smiling faintly; the corners of his eyes creased slightly. Apart from the fact that he was pleased with her, she couldn't quite interpret his expression. She felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as he looked deeply into her eyes. Then he released the hand he had been holding and took her chin. She closed her eyes and waited for his kiss.

His lips had barely brushed hers when he suddenly pulled away. Someone was tugging at his sleeve. It was Natasha.

‘Laurence, I'm really sorry to interrupt' – she shot an apologetic glance at Elsa – 'but you're the only person guaranteed to be sober.’

Disappointment and reality arrived simultaneously. She'd been dancing like an angel, with Laurence, and he had been going to kiss her, properly. The circumstances might never be right again and kind, gentlemanly, sober Laurence was going to have to rescue another damsel in distress.

‘It's Jamie,' explained Natasha. 'He managed to really gouge his hand opening a bottle of wine. Maggie is beside herself. She can't drive, they've got a babysitter who has to be got home, and she thinks Jamie should go to hospital. I do too, actually.’

Elsa thought she saw Laurence close his eyes for a moment, expressing irritation, or possibly frustration. But then he was his usual helpful self. He glanced at her, almost as if he were asking her permission. She smiled back.

‘Come on, let's have a look,' he said.

The kitchen could have been a scene from Holby City before the ambulance crew arrived.

There was a man sitting at the table holding a bloodstained tea towel round his hand. A woman, presumably his wife, was leaning over him, alternately upbraiding him for being so stupid and asking him how he felt. Other people stood around offering opinions – some said the wound, which Elsa couldn't actually see, should be stuck up with sticking plaster, that was all that was necessary. Others said he should go to A and E. One person was all for calling an ambulance.

When Laurence entered the room everyone went quiet. 'What happened?' he asked, and everyone started to talk again.

‘Bloody fool was trying to open a bottle with a knife. It slipped and it went straight into his wrist.' This was his wife. 'He's going to bleed to death if someone doesn't do something! And he's drunk,' she added.

‘I'm fine! I said I'd drive!' said the man concerned, obviously not only in pain but somewhat inebriated.

‘No you're not. Even if you hadn't cut your hand half off you couldn't drive,' said someone else.

‘Let's have a look.' Laurence knelt by the man and unwrapped the tea towel. He didn't say anything, just wrapped it up again very quickly. 'Maggie's right,' he said. 'A and E for you.'

‘I don't drive,' wailed Maggie. 'And I must get home -we've got a new babysitter, I can't leave her there all night!'

‘Don't worry, someone will get you home,' said Natasha, who had joined the group. 'But I think Laurence should take Jamie to hospital. He's sober and he's done a first-aid course. Haven't you, sweetie?’

Laurence raised an eyebrow. 'A couple of years ago, and it doesn't qualify me to do major stitching.'

‘You should still drive him in. You could take his car.’

‘How am I going to get home?' demanded Maggie. 'I don't mean to sound unsympathetic but I'm frankly livid! He gets drunk when he promised he wouldn't and then bloody injures himself. A taxi will cost a fortune!’

‘Someone will take you home, don't worry, Maggie,' said Natasha soothingly. 'There must be someone who lives your way.'

‘But I don't want to wait for someone to decide they want to go home. I want to go now! I need to be at home with my babies! Besides,' she added a bit more calmly, 'I don't want to drag anyone away from the party. It's too early to leave.'

‘Your car will be safe here, Laurence. I know how precious your Morgan is to you,' said Natasha, still concerned with Laurence and Jamie.

‘That doesn't help me,' said Maggie. 'If I could drive, I'd take it.’

Natasha shook her head. 'Laurence is very picky about who he lets drive his car, Maggs.'

‘Listen, everyone!' Jamie, still clutching his tea towel, claimed the room's attention. 'I'm bleeding to death here, and all you lot can talk about is Laurence's bloody car!' His blood-letting hadn't done much to sober him up.

‘There's another problem,' said Laurence. 'Someone's got to see that Elsa gets home safely.’

For the third time that evening Elsa realised everyone was looking at her. She must have been getting used to it because she felt quite calm. 'I can get myself home. I'll take a taxi or' – she smiled and added jokingly – 'I could drive Laurence's car – except that it's not insured, of course.’

No one laughed. There was a long pause as people waited for Laurence to say, 'Hell will freeze over first,' or something similar. But when he did speak he said, 'Actually, it is insured. How much have you had to drink?’