Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

She didn't really believe him – he had a very frivolous car after all – but she didn't want to argue. 'Then we're well matched. That's good!’

He nodded. 'It also makes me believe in the power of coincidence.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Nothing, really.' He paused before going on. 'The brides, having chosen me as best man, are not usually terribly considerate in their choice of chief bridesmaid.’

This made Elsa laugh. 'I'm sure you'd have loved Fulvia! She's a real goer. Well, obviously, she's gone to Paris, after all.'

‘I know Fulvia,' he said mock seriously, 'and while she is definitely a goer, she's not much fun.'

‘No?'

‘No. Lovely to look at but absolutely no brain. Not much sense of humour either.’

It was somewhat of a surprise to Elsa that a man should feel like this. She'd always assumed that a good figure and pretty face were what was important. Although she saw his point; in her work she often dealt with brides who were extremely pretty but weren't easy to communicate with. Ashlyn had been a lovely exception – demanding, but fun, and able to be clear about what she wanted. 'Oh. Well, I hope I'm not too disappointing.’

He smiled. 'Not at all.'

‘Hm,' said Elsa. 'You're very polite, aren't you?’

‘Very. Famous for it. So, can you dance?’

She wondered briefly if dancing round her studio on her own counted as dancing. 'A bit. But steering me might be the best option.'

‘It will be a pleasure.’

Elsa considered. 'I suppose having such an ancient car makes you good at steering.’

He nodded, really smiling now. 'It does. Now, let's see if Ashlyn can get down from the dais and on to the dance floor in those shoes.'

‘Oh God, my shoes. They're about ten sizes too big.’

‘Really?'

‘Well, a couple, anyway. I can't dance in them. You'll have to find someone else.'

‘Ditch the shoes. So Fulvia has big feet, has she?'

‘No,' said Elsa, 'I have small ones. It's one of my few virtues.’

Laurence looked at her sideways. 'Oh, I wouldn't say that.'

‘No you wouldn't, because as I said, you're very polite. I'm honest.'

‘Honest but deluded,' said Laurence.

Suspecting she was being paid a compliment and unsure how to react, Elsa ignored this. She'd never learnt how to flirt.

Just then, Ashlyn and Bobby shuffled past them. The band was playing their specially selected 'first dance' number and they were heading for the dance floor.

Elsa watched the bride and groom dance together with awe. They must have practised. That dress was not designed to move in, and yet they glided over the floor with grace and harmony. At the end, everyone applauded, not just because it was expected, but because they were really very good at it.

‘Wow,' said Elsa. 'I'd love to be able to dance like that.’

‘Well, now's your chance,' said Laurence, helping her to her feet.

‘It won't be like that,' she muttered under her breath, but he either didn't hear or chose to ignore her.

Elsa left her shoes under the table, and this emphasised the already noticeable height difference between her and her partner. The first few steps were a disaster. Her feet felt so vulnerable next to his huge, shiny black shoes, she would only move them backwards.

‘I'm sorry, I really can't do this,' she said. 'Please find someone else. There are lots of girls here who'd love to dance with you.'

‘But I want to dance with you. Come on, you can do it.’

Three more staggering steps proved that Elsa couldn't.

‘Tell you what, put your dress over your arm. Good, now put your feet on mine. We'll dance together.' Then he put his arm firmly round her, lifting her slightly. Elsa surrendered and put her feet on his, trusting that his shoes wouldn't allow her feet to crush his.

It felt magical! He moved gracefully round the floor, and because he did, so did she. When the dance was over she forgot that she was shy and inhibited, flung her arms round his neck and kissed his cheek. 'Thank you, that was fantastic! I loved it!’

`Mm,' said Laurence, 'so did I. Maybe you should have some lessons, so you can dance on your own two feet instead of mine.'

‘Maybe I should!' She sighed, yearning to be able to glide, as if on wheels, like Ashlyn and Bobby had.

Laurence chuckled. 'Now it's your turn to show me up. I'm hopeless at bopping about. I feel silly and I look silly.'

‘I'm sure you don't!' said Elsa, indignant for him. But a few moments later, she had to admit – privately, of course – that he was right. He couldn't dance for toffee.

Sarah eased her shoes off under the table. The reception was fine – so far. No one had grumbled about where they were sitting. The food had arrived in an organised fashion, and only one table had to wait any length of time. Spotting this, Sarah had appeared with a bottle of champagne and given everyone another glass.

Then she had produced a large china plate and a special pen. 'This is for you all to sign and write messages on. If you go first, you'll have more space.'

‘Won't the writing wash off?' asked one girl, who had taken the pen and was now chewing the end of it, wondering what to say.

‘No, you bake the plate and the writing is fixed. Lovely idea, I think, don't you? But please don't write too much!' Ashlyn had wanted a plate per table and so have a set of dinner plates, but Bobby, who'd wanted a different sort of china, had said two plates, maximum, although it would mean people would have to express themselves in very small writing.

Everything else had gone smoothly. Unlike at many weddings she had worked on, the Lennox-Featherstones had insisted that Sarah was catered for as if she were a guest. She had agreed only because there was room for a little table on its own from which she could leap up if the need arose.

It was a very stylish, lavish do, she had to admit, and a lot of the credit was down to her. Now she had leisure to look about her, she could admire the details. The size of the budget had definitely helped.

The flowers were superb. Sukie, her florist of choice, had done a wonderful job. The tables all had a glass cube packed with one sort of fragrant flower. Sarah had caught the whiff of freesias, fat-stemmed hyacinths and roses, as she'd moved from table to table before everyone sat down, checking everything was as it should be.

There was a long, low, sophisticated floral runner on the top table. In this the varieties of flowers went in waves, a patch of roses, followed by one of sweet peas, then one of delphiniums, and so on. Sukie had told Sarah she was creating a herbaceous border effect, to reflect the bride's mother's love of country gardens.

Ashlyn had a simple bouquet of lilies of the valley. Like many simple things, it had been fantastically expensive because, Sukie had told Sarah, it had taken 250 stems to make it really lavish. Elsa had a trailing bouquet that also included lilies of the valley, but not quite so many, and the little bridesmaids had simple posies of all the flowers represented, tiny, but very fragrant. Sukie had taken a lot of time finding out exactly what was required and Mrs Lennox-Featherstone had already told Sarah how beautiful the flowers were.

‘I'll write to her myself, of course, but if I don't get round to it straightaway, do tell Sukie how pleased we are. You are clever to have found her.' Sarah had sighed with satisfaction. Having people she could rely on made her job so much easier.

The few little misunderstandings about waiting and bar staff had been sorted out and now all she had to do was check that everything was all right at the end and make sure that anyone who needed to be paid, was. Sarah had a worryingly fat wad of notes she wore under her clothes in a travel wallet.