Katie Fforde - Wedding Season

‘Oh yes. Any time now I would have been asking you to dance and then kissing you.' – Bron sighed. What had just taken place was a little bit more than kissing. 'So why wait so long?'

‘I only just found out for sure that you did really fancy me.'

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘Vanessa told me.’

Bron took the pillow and put it over her head. 'What?’

‘When she told me that I had to go with you to this wedding she told me in no uncertain terms that you fancied me and that I'd be a fool not to snap you up. I think she thought I wouldn't work it out for myself '

‘You didn't,' mumbled Bron, still under the pillow. 'Vanessa knew when I first came to work for her I'd just broken up a long-term relationship. She probably thought she needed to help us along.’

Bron mumbled some more.

‘Come out from under there.' He confiscated the pillow.

'I'm so embarrassed!'

‘I really don't know why. By the way, Vanessa says, when we're ready to move in together, she'll let us have the flat above the old stables. Much more space for us, and she can rent out both our houses.'

‘Oh, she really is the limit!' Bron laughed. 'Mind you, it's very kind of her to do that. Not that I'll be ready to move in with you for ages,' she added haughtily, trying to snatch back some pride.

‘Why is that?’

James had a soft, low voice and he asked this question very close to her ear. Bron found herself sighing instead of blushing and there was no more conversation for a while.

Somehow they got themselves back to the party. Bron insisted. She was still blushing inside at her brazenness.

She really didn't want her friends putting two and two together and working out what had gone on.

Of course, as soon as she saw Sarah she realised it would have been better to stay put. One glance from her put Sarah in full possession of all the facts.

‘Oh Bron,' she said, kissing her cheek. 'And James! All loved-up – how wonderful!'

‘Is it that obvious?' pleaded Bron.

"Fraid so.' Sarah kissed James too, and Bron wondered if she was beginning to lose her iron grip on events. 'I'm a very lucky man,' said James. 'Now, come and dance,' he said to Bron, and took her hand.

Sarah was very pleased to see Bron and James looking so happy. While true love was definitely not something she'd experienced, she was coming round to the fact that it did work for others. Elsa and Laurence were waltzing round the ballroom looking like a couple on a greetings card. She sighed deeply and pushed Hugo out of her mind. At that very moment he appeared, almost as if she had conjured him up.

‘Are you planning to work all night?' he asked. 'Carrie's gone; everything is fine. You could knock off now.'

‘While there are still so many people here I feel I must hang around to help clear up.'

‘Well, come and have a drink with me. I've taken a million pictures and I'm shattered.’

It was so unlike Hugo to sound tired that Sarah, weakened by her own fatigue and the temptation of putting her feet up, for a little while at least, agreed and she followed him until they reached the empty kitchen. Signs of the wedding were everywhere. Crockery that had unexpectedly been commandeered at the last minute -bedroom jugs that had been needed for water, wicker trugs for bread, almost anything that had been used for flowers – had found its way back to the kitchen and now littered every surface.

Automatically, Sarah went to the butler's sink and started to fill it.

‘Don't you dare wash up, come and sit with me,' ordered Hugo. 'Here, have some of this. It's special.’

From behind a shelf of cookery books he produced a bottle. A couple of small glasses came from the same cache and he put both on the table.

‘Is that Rupert's, or yours?' asked Sarah. She didn't want to accept Hugo's offer of a drink if it was really Rupert's. There was plenty of alcohol upstairs she wouldn't feel bad about drinking.

‘It's mine. I put it here earlier for just this occasion.’

‘Which is?' She pulled out a chair.

He didn't answer. He just smiled and poured a small amount of the drink into each glass. He handed her one. 'It's Armagnac. I brought it back from France a while ago.’

She sipped. It was delicious. Hugo pulled out a chair and sat opposite her, so their knees were almost touching. Sarah tried very hard to ignore the bolt of electricity and heat that went through her, and not just from the brandy. Her resistance was rapidly melting away. As Hugo set the bottle down Sarah noticed marks on the back of his hand. One of them had been bleeding. Without thinking she put down her glass and took hold of the damaged hand.

‘You're hurt! How did this happen?' The moment the words were out she realised she knew how it had happened – the action of holding his hand was familiar. 'I did it, didn't I? Those are my nail marks – Hugo, I had no idea-’

He didn't wait for her apology. He put his free hand on her cheek and pulled her gently towards him and kissed her.

Sarah had been through a lot that day, her defences were wafer thin and his mouth on hers was more than enough to demolish them. She felt she could have sat at the table, kissin gHugo, tasting the brandy, feeling the contact between his tongue and hers for ever. The outside world faded away and she never wanted to move. Weeks of trying not to think about him, dream about him, about the kisses, telling herself he was no good for her, he was with someone else, dissolved. For the moment she could forget about Electra. For the moment, Hugo was hers.

Someone, one of the caterers possibly, came into the room, saw what was going on and apologised before backing out again.

‘Come on,' said Hugo. 'We can't stay here.’

Sarah followed where he led, up the back stairs to a bedroom under the eaves. 'The servants' quarters,' he explained as they went. 'Which is why Rupert put me here.'

‘Here' was a long low room right under the roof at the front of the house, on the opposite side to where she and Elsa were supposed to be sleeping, she briefly noted before she joined him in the room. The only light was from the long row of windows. In daylight the view would be spectacular. Hugo went to the bed and switched on the lamp beside it.

‘There would have been a whole row of beds in here, for the female servants. Maybe they even slept two to a bed. It's going to make the most wonderful flat. Rupert and Fenella have got great plans for it.' He paused and turned towards her.

Sarah suddenly felt herself stiffen. 'Hugo, I can't do this,' she said.

She stopped in the doorway. She could appreciate the potential of the servants' quarters; she could see how much work needed doing, which was why a family friend, like Hugo, had been put here rather than anyone else, but she couldn't cross the threshold. Something, fear possibly, held her rooted to the spot.

‘What can't you do?'

‘I can't have sex with you, Hugo. My body wants to – or at least it did a few moments ago, but I can't cope with…just sex.’

‘What makes you think it would be "just" anything?' He spoke softly, as if aware of how little it would take to send Sarah running back down the stairs.

‘You're engaged to Electra. If you could make love to me while-'

‘I'm not. I'm not engaged to Electra. In fact I never was. I've been trying to tell you…' He paused.

‘Oh?' She couldn't keep the cynicism from her voice, although she tried hard to.

‘Come and sit down. I can't talk to you while you're standing over there.’

She didn't move. He came towards her and took her hand and guided her out of the doorway. Then he shut the door. 'Nothing's going to happen here that we don't both want, but I need to tell you about Electra.' He led her over to the bed, which was the only place to sit, and before she could resist she found her knees giving way and she sat down.