Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

Sarah considered. 'Tell you what, have two line-ups. You and Dirk, and then, a long way away, the parents, bridesmaids, best man, whoever.'

‘She'd never wear it! She's been so difficult about it all. She's such a snob.'

‘I'll talk her into it. Make out it's what the posh folk do.' Lily giggled again. 'My big sister Sarah, fighting my battles.'

‘That's what big sisters are for. Now, what are you going to do tonight? Early night? A DVD in bed? Hot bath?’

‘I don't know.' Suddenly Lily began to cry. Not scorching, temperamental tears, but large, hot, silent ones, pouring down her cheeks.

‘Oh, lovey, what is it?' Sarah cuddled her. 'What's the matter?'

‘I don't know! Nothing really. Everything.'

‘Have you eaten?’

Lily shook her head.

‘That's probably why you're feeling weepy. I'll go out for something,' said Sarah, ever practical. 'Fish and chips?’

‘Ooh yes, my favourite! But no vinegar, I've gone off it.’

‘We'll watch some Sex and the City or something while we eat it, then I'll go round and explain to Dirk's mother you don't want a seating plan and tell her about the line-up arrangement.’

Lily looked up at Sarah. 'You won't be able to change her mind. She'll make you – us – have one.'

‘Would it break your heart if she did tell people where to sit?'

‘No!' wailed Lily. 'Not that much. But the line-up thing is really worrying me.' She sniffed. 'She'll die if she hears people referring to my bump and I don't want my wedding day ruined by scenes.’

You and every other bride, thought Sarah, but most of you are doomed to disappointment.

Lily was right about Mrs Boscastle being determined to have things her way. Her dinner guests had been swept out of the way and the kitchen table cleared for action.

‘Lily did tell me that she and Dirk had decided they just wanted people to sit where they wanted,' Sarah said firmly. 'With whom they wanted.'

‘They're young things,' said Mrs Boscastle equally firmly. 'They don't know how important these things are. We'll do it together. I'll get my husband to make labels on his computer tomorrow morning. Then we'll just stick them on to folded cards.'

‘That's going to be quite time-consuming,' said Sarah. 'Are you sure there won't be other things he'll want to be doing? Checking the wine is chilled? Manly things like that?' Mr Boscastle had yet to appear. If he was anything like his wife, he might have ideas of his own.

‘No. Those WI women, or whoever they are, will arrange the wine. At least I hope they will. They don't seem very well organised and quite inexperienced.’

Sarah bit down hard on her lecture about those women working for nothing, only charging for the food and being very obliging in every way. Mrs Boscastle wasn't supposed to know about all the economies Lily and Dirk had had to make. She did hope it was just Mrs Boscastle being difficult though, and that there wasn't really anything wrong with them.

‘They'll be fine. And I'll help you put the place cards out if your husband makes them. Now there's just the receiving line to sort out.’

Mrs Boscastle shook her head. 'Lily and Dirk said they don't want them but I had to over-rule them. They're essential.'

‘They are quite out-dated,' said Sarah, mentally crossing her fingers against the lie. 'But what many of my… er… upmarket clients do nowadays is have two. It makes it move faster.'

‘Two? And how can that possibly make it go faster?’

As Sarah had no idea how, she had to busk it. 'Family members do chat to the parents a bit more, which means people are kept waiting. If they go to the bride and groom first, and then move right away to the family, they pick up momentum.' Sarah was very glad that no one, particularly Hugo, could hear all this drivel – he'd be bound to laugh. Although, if he'd been here, she realised, she'd have felt so much better about the whole thing.

‘Oh, well, if that's what people are doing these days…?' Mrs Boscastle looked at Sarah questioningly.

‘I helped at a very smart wedding the other day and they were very pleased with the way everything worked.' This wasn't actually a lie, it was a fact – it just didn't relate to the receiving line.

‘Very well then. Now, let's get on with the seating plan. My husband was as upset as I was at the thought of a free-for-all. You seem moderately efficient. We should have it done in a jiffy.’

Mrs Boscastle was efficient too – almost as efficient as she was snobbish – and they made good progress. But the snobbishness did begin to rankle. Something disparaging was said about almost everyone. Lily's relations' names were all scrutinised as if Mrs Boscastle were trying to detect something about them to indicate class.

Mrs Boscastle had obviously forgotten that Sarah was Lily's sister, and all the relations she was being so snooty about were hers too. Hugo, never far from her mind, came into it again, this time in a really useful way.

Sarah started dropping names in the casual way Hugo had made Rupert do it when they were trying to persuade Carrie to have her wedding at Somerby. Without actually saying so, she managed to imply that these names were relations of hers and Lily. Mrs Boscastle became a lot more friendly after that. Sarah's piece de resistance was actually true – Aunt Margaret, who was so wonderfully tactless, bound to reveal Lily's secret to the world, really was a Lady. Mrs Boscastle loved it.

Sarah drove back to Lily's very late. She let herself in and saw her sister fast asleep on the sofa, the television flickering to itself. Although she felt a bit guilty about it, Sarah decided not to move the bride-to-be. Having made sure Lily wouldn't get cold in the night, she sloped off to bed. Lily and Dirk would have a lovely double bed to sleep in the next night, after all.

Everyone was up early at Somerby. Bron tiptoed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea before she carried on with her icing, only to find Fenella and Elsa already there. Fenella was anxious.

‘I'm sure it's fine, but Sarah did tell me that the florists would be here by seven at the latest – there's loads to do. The chapel, the drawing room, the dining room, they're all having big displays.'

‘What about the bridal flowers?' asked Bron.

‘Thank God Carrie's bringing those with her. Can't remember why, but they're being done separately. Mandy said she'd make sure they got done and everything.’

‘It's only half past seven now,' said Elsa, checking the big kitchen clock. 'They've probably got lost.'

‘Have you much to do on your dresses, Elsa?' asked Bron, pouring water on to a tea bag.

‘No, they're mostly done. I just hope Carrie's not too late though. I still need to do a final fitting and there are some crystals I can't sew on until I've finished the main sewing. Can you remember what time she's supposed to get here?’

‘I think Sarah said about four,' replied Fenella. 'She can't make it before.'

‘Oh God, that doesn't give me much time for her hair and make-up,' said Bron. 'You'll probably need half an hour with her, won't you, Elsa? At least the cake will be finished and I can focus utterly on the bride.'

‘Most brides do need more than two hours to get ready,' Elsa agreed, beginning to get edgy herself, although she calmed down a little when Fenella said she was sorry, she'd misread Sarah's instructions and Carrie was due to arrive at around three.

Then the phone rang and all three women jumped. Fenella flew to it and the others listened anxiously from the moment they heard Fenella say, 'Are you sure you're all right?’

It could have been Sarah saying something bad had happened to her.

Fenella's side of the conversation was tantalisingly brief and it was only after a tense few minutes that Bron and Elsa discovered what the disaster was.