Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

Relief flooded over her as she found the right room. Already someone had placed her fake cakes in two rows leading to the long windows, where the real cake would stand.

‘You thought I was going to drop the cake, didn't you?' said Rupert. 'Go on, admit it.’

Bron sighed deeply. 'Yes I did.'

‘It would have made a wonderful photograph,' said Hugo. 'You wouldn't like to drop it on purpose, would you?’

Bron scowled at him as crossly as she could manage. He laughed.

Elsa was tired of smiling. She loved children and these little girls – daughters of Carrie's far-off cousins – were not naughty. But like anyone else who was five years old, they found it difficult to keep still. They wanted to run around playing fairies, flapping their arms and encouraging each other to louder squeals and more hysterical laughter. They also found the huge bed very tempting.

Their mothers were too busy chatting with each other to do much to rein them in – they were very excited to be involved in a celebrity wedding.

‘Now, Isolde,' said Elsa firmly. 'Can you just let me check if this fits? It won't take long.' She should probably be firmer with them, she realised, but it was too late now.

‘So what's Carrie's dress like?' asked one of the mothers, having realised that Elsa needed help.

‘Fabulous,' said Elsa, her mouth full of pins.

‘Can we have a peek?' asked the other mother.

‘Not a chance,' said Elsa. She took out the last pin. 'You haven't got long to wait and she'd kill me if I let anyone see it before she has. There, that wasn't too bad, was it? Now, Imogen, your turn.’

It was time for Sarah to go. There was nothing much she could do now. She'd said goodbye to Elsa and Bron. She hadn't seen Hugo since this morning. He was probably off somewhere with his camera. For one brief moment she wondered if Electra would turn up to the wedding but then dismissed the thought. She had the guest and staff list and Electra's name wasn't on it – there wasn't even a plus one against Hugo's name. Bron had iced the last but one section and was now icing the entire thing into a ball. Elsa was hand-sewing the bridesmaids' dresses so that they fitted properly. And James had created a very mysterious wood in front of the blocked-off corridor. All was as well as it could be. Later everyone was going to sit in the kitchen and eat cottage pie and drink red wine. Sarah wished she could be with them.

‘The florist will arrive very early tomorrow,' she said to Fenella, who had a clipboard. She felt Fenella would be the perfect custodian of it in her absence. And she did have a copy of her various lists in her handbag. She was running through everything in her mind. 'Let me know if there are any problems. I'll be at the end of my mobile – mostly. Right, the orchestra – I suppose I mean band, don't I? Whatever, they should turn up a couple of hours before they're needed. They like to eat something and then have a bit of a practice.' She frowned suddenly. 'Are they staying here? I can't remember.'

‘B. and b. in the village,' said Fenella. 'I can't fit in another soul. We will be able to soon, but not now. Thank God Carrie and her entourage are staying at the hotel.'

‘I know. The caterers will be early too. I've used them lots of times; they're very reliable.'

‘Right,' said Fenella, writing on her clipboard. 'Horse and carriage?'

‘Carrie's coming from the hotel in a car, she'll be put into the horse and carriage – we've found the perfect spot – and will be driven up the road and then up the drive to the chapel entrance. You don't need to worry about the horse and carriage because they'll just go back when they're finished. They've got a huge great lorry they can put it all on. Anything else you're not sure of?'

‘The press,' said Fenella, seeming worried. 'Do I have to feed them or anything?'

‘Absolutely not. We're only feeding the Celeb lot and they've been given strict instructions. I've warned the local pub that they'll be inundated. That'll have to do. Mandy has arranged some extra security. She'll handle all that.' Sarah put her arms round Fenella and hugged her. 'I do wish I could stay with you all. I'll be back as soon as I can.'

‘Enjoy Lily's wedding. And don't worry about a thing. We'll manage,' Fenella said, with a little more conviction than she felt.

And Sarah finally got into her car, waved and drove away.

Sarah was already tired when she arrived at Dirk's parents' house. Although things were going well at Somerby at the moment, she knew from experience that there were many, many slips that could occur between cups and lips where weddings were concerned.

She was let into the house by a stray aunt who smiled at her vaguely and then went back to whatever it was she had been doing.

Sarah found the kitchen and went in. A middle-aged woman with the kind of facial lines that indicated bad temper and discontent was putting cutlet collars on a rack of lamb. 'Who are you?' she demanded, sounding none too friendly.

‘I'm Sarah – Lily's sister.' She smiled bravely. Her role was not so clear-cut here. While Lily expected her to organise everything, she was there as Lily's sister, not as a wedding planner. It meant that she had to do everything she usually did, but very discreetly. It made everything a lot harder work.

‘Oh, hello.' The woman gave her a cursory glance. 'You're nothing like her, I must say.’

Sarah didn't know if this was a good thing or not in this woman's eyes.

‘Is Lily here?' she asked.

The woman shook her head. `No, she's at the flat, claiming she's tired. She'll know what being tired is allabout when she's had the baby! Poor Dirk!'

‘I think Dirk is very lucky,' said Sarah firmly, infuriated by this woman already. 'Lily is a lovely person and she's going to make a brilliant mother. She's also going to make Dirk very happy. He's to be congratulated on his good taste.’

Sensing slightly too late that she'd been rather rude the woman managed a smile. 'Of course.'

‘And I'm a wedding planner, and I'm here to help you all I can, Mrs…' Sarah's professional memory deserted her. If this woman'd been a client Sarah would have had her name on a file. Because she was Lily's future mother-in-law, she hadn't and so couldn't remember it.

‘Boscastle,' said the woman, 'I'm Dirk's mother. Yes, I remember now, you've been organising that film star's wedding. What's her name again?'

‘Carrie Condy.'

‘Oh yes, that's right. And where is she getting married?’

‘At a lovely old house in Herefordshire,' said Sarah. It was unlikely Mrs Boscastle was intending to inform the small number of publications to whom this would be hot news, but she didn't want to be too precise. 'So how is everything going here?’

Mrs Boscastle inclined her head. 'It's a shame it's too late to do anything about the food.'

‘There's a problem with the food?' This was a bit heart-sinking. Those ladies should have been perfect! They were fairly near, they were doing it for cost, and they had the sort of friendly personalities that made them ideal for the job.

Mrs Boscastle nodded. 'It's a buffet – hopeless! It'll be all little nibbly things. No one will get enough to eat, Lily's- Some people will get drunk and the people who should be together won't be. A sit-down meal would have been far better. I could have arranged place settings.'

‘You still could if you wanted to, Mrs Boscastle, if you think you've got time. You could seat people and then we can ask them to come up and get their food table by table.’

Sarah actually assumed something like this had already been done. It wasn't a last-minute job. To do it properly you had to take your time or you had people's exes sitting next to each other and fistfights threatening to break out before the first waltz – or at least before the last one.