Bron walked down the High Street looking for the wine bar. Roger had not been thrilled about the idea of her going out midweek, but she'd cooked him a very good fish pie and there was sport on television and so she had been firm about going. He was grumpy because the meeting was about another wedding, not really because he wanted her company.
Then she saw Elsa and hurried towards her.
‘Isn't this exciting!' said Elsa as they entered the wine bar. 'Sarah didn't say much on the phone. Did she tell you what it was all about?'
‘She sounded very businesslike,' said Bron. 'Apparently it's another wedding for a mega client.'
‘Oh good. I've got work for the next couple of months, but then I've got a bit of a dry spell.'
‘Let's sit here,' said Bron. 'We can really spread ourselves out. Shall we order drinks while we wait?’
‘Definitely.’
Bron picked up the menu. 'We might as well have a bottle. House white OK for you?' Elsa nodded. 'Better get some water too.’
When both women were settled with drinks and olives, Bron said, 'So, Elsa, while I've got you on your own, I really want to ask you some more about what it's like working for yourself. I know we talked about it briefly the other night but I wanted to pick your brains properly. I've been giving it a lot of thought recently and I keep wondering if I should go freelance again.'
‘Do you really not like working at the salon? One of the things I regret about my job is the amount of time I spend on my own. I think it would be fun to work with jolly people. I worked in a dry-cleaner's as a Saturday job and I loved the other women. They used to get me to do the mending because I had "nimble fingers".’
Bron, fiddling with the menu, considered her answer. 'I'd like the salon more if I liked the people I worked with, but my boss is only a bit older than I am and is pretty vile, one way and another. The other girls are younger and tend to stick together. I'm a bit on my own, apart from the clients.’
Elsa sipped her wine, allowing Bron to talk.
‘Take today, for example, one of my regulars – a lovely woman in her fifties – wanted something a bit different. We were going through colour charts and discussing what would go with her skin tones – all that stuff – when Sasha came over, took the chart out of my hands, and said, "That's the colour you should have, Mrs Aldroyd."' Bron took a sip from her glass. 'And suggested something that would have been absolutely minging!’
Elsa laughed. 'What colour was it?'
‘Oh God, nearly grey! It would have made Mrs Aldroyd look about a hundred and twenty.' Bron gave a little giggle. 'We had to wait until Sasha had gone away before we could work out what was best. Then' – Bron's indignation escalated – 'she came back, saw we hadn't done what she'd suggested and went ape!' She took another gulp of wine and sighed. 'Mrs Aldroyd would definitely become a client if I went freelance. Sasha was practically telling her off for not wanting grey lowlights!'
‘My mother's in her fifties. She wouldn't want grey lowlights.'
‘Well, no!’
Elsa chuckled sympathetically. 'What does Roger think about you going freelance? You have talked it over with him?' Having seen, albeit briefly, how Bron and Roger were together made Elsa wonder about them.
‘He thinks I'm mad even to think of going it alone. He's an accountant and the insecurity worries him. He'd insist on doing my books, I know he would, he is a bit of a control freak, and then he'd tell me how little money I was earning.' She made a face. 'I'd hate to be a kept woman. At least now I pay my way.'
‘It would only be for a while, I'm sure you'd soon build up a client base and earn more than you did before. There's much more work for hairdressers than dressmakers, surely? Most women go at least every six weeks – they'll have a dress made once in their lifetime.'
‘I never thought of it like that. Of course you're right.' Bron selected an olive. 'But I don't know if I could convince Roger.' Delicately, she removed the olive stone and picked up the menu again. 'And also, I don't think he likes the idea of me doing so many weddings. It means I'm not always there for the cricket.'
‘That seems a bit unreasonable.’
Bron put the menu down. 'Oh no, it's fine! I always knew he was a cricketer. And he doesn't play it all weekend. And only in summer.'
‘So what do you do on Sundays? Picnics, walks – things like that?' Elsa heard the wistfulness in her voice but hoped that Bron hadn't.
‘We have lunch with his parents. I really like his mother. She and I get on like a house on fire,' said Bron quickly. 'Can I top you up?'
‘Oh, go on. I'm not driving. And you needn't either, really. Where you live, you could take a taxi home.'
‘Are you trying to lead me astray?' asked Bron, filling up her glass as she said it. She didn't get many opportunities to go out with friends; she should make the most of it.
‘Yes,' said Elsa simply.
Just then, Sarah came rushing in. 'I am so sorry! I got horribly held up. I wouldn't have been quite so late if I didn't know Bron was with you, Elsa.' She kissed both women and then collapsed on to a chair.
‘White wine OK? Plate of pasta?' said Elsa, laughing. Sarah nodded. 'You'd better get some water as well.’
‘We have already,' said Elsa.
‘Oh God, do I sound like a head girl? I'm sorry!' Sarah took a sip from someone else's glass as a gesture of surrender of her role as boss woman.
A few minutes later, when they'd ordered more wine, water and food, Elsa said, 'So what kept you?’
Sarah sighed. 'My darling sister. I love her, I really do, but she's chosen to get married the exact same day as my major new client – who I'm going to tell you about in just a mo.' She took the glass that Bron handed her. 'Actually, Lily picked the date first, to be fair, but I can hardly ask my client to move her date.'
‘So? Who's the client? You've been so mysterious about it we know it must be someone amazing,' said Elsa.
Sarah looked quickly around, leant in and whispered, 'Carrie Condy.'
‘Oh. My. God!' said Bron slowly. 'That's amazing! I was reading about her being engaged in a magazine only today.'
‘No wonder your boss is on your case if you read magazines all day,' said Elsa.
Bron stuck her tongue out. 'That truly is amazing! Well done, Sarah!'
‘It is amazing, but sadly, she wants it now. And she wants exactly what Ashlyn had: ancient church, summer day, same dressmaker – everything.'
‘What do you mean, now?' said Bron and Elsa together.
‘Virtually now. In two months. Any chance you can make a wedding dress like Ashlyn's in two months, Elsa?’
Elsa gulped. 'Just about, but it'll be tight. Ashlyn's dress took two years to do!’
Sarah flapped her hand dismissively. 'But only because she had two years,' she said. 'How long did it take from when you knew what you were doing?’
Elsa sighed. 'About six weeks, with fittings, and with doing the bridesmaids' dresses as well. Is, um, "Carrie" having bridesmaids?'
‘She hasn't mentioned them, or at least, she hasn't told her PA about them. Carrie's out of the country at the moment and will be a lot. Which'll make fittings difficult.'
‘I made that wretched Fulvia's dress without any fittings at all!'
‘But she was the same size as you,' Bron reminded her. 'It probably made it easier.’
Elsa shook her head. 'Not really. It meant I knew her measurements, but you can't really try on clothes you're making.'
‘Oh, I don't know,' said Sarah. 'I've been known to iron a skirt without taking it oft but maybe I'm an extreme case.’
The other two looked at her.
‘OK! It was ages ago. But going back to this wedding: Elsa, you'll be able to charge top whack for this. I know you gave Mrs Lennox-Featherstone a bit of a discount for quantity, but Carrie can pay the full price.'
‘Fab!' said Elsa.
‘And she's going to want almost the same as Ashlyn's -which I know had lots of hand-beading and stuff, but at least you'll have been there before.’
Elsa nodded. 'I can get someone in if necessary. I know a really nice woman who's happy to help with that sort of thing if I need it.'
‘And, Bron, I'll suggest Carrie uses you but she might want her own hairdresser and stylist.’
Bron nodded understandingly. 'Of course. I wouldn't expect to deal with a celebrity like Carrie. It's lovely just to be part of things now.’
Sarah went on, 'But if she really wants everything just like Ashlyn had, she'll need you. And I definitely want you in on all the planning. After Ashlyn's wedding, which was the biggest thing we ever did together, I think we're a team. We bounce ideas off each other.'
‘Talking of teams,' said Elsa, 'what about Hugo?' Sarah froze for a moment. 'What about Hugo?'
‘Well,' Elsa went on. 'He's part of the team too, isn't he?’
‘Oh well, not really. She's bound to have her favourite photographer. Some really swanky people use fashion photographers to do their wedding shots.’
Bron and Elsa exchanged glances. 'I can't imagine a fashion photographer dealing with all those people,' said Elsa. 'Not to mention the dog. Anyway, Hugo was – is -really swanky. He does very grand events.'
‘How do you know that?' asked Sarah abruptly, causing Elsa and Bron to look at her questioningly.
‘I overheard someone saying so at the wedding,' explained Elsa, 'and while we're on the subject of the wedding – Ashlyn's wedding,' Elsa went on, 'did I see you and Hugo slow dancing as I left?’
Sarah felt herself blush scarlet. She gulped down some water. 'Blimey, it's hot in here!'
‘Well?' demanded Bron, when Sarah had finished fanning herself, pouring more water, and generally trying to cause a diversion.
‘Yes,' Sarah whispered. She sipped again, wine this time. 'But that was all.' This was a lie, but a white and very necessary one, she felt. 'I was very tired and it seemed less effort to hang my arms round his neck than to hold myself up.'
‘Oh,' said Elsa.
There was a small silence. Sarah was forcing memories of their kissing out of her mind so she could concentrate fully. Was she destined to be constantly reminded of that evening?
‘So,' said Bron, sensing Sarah's discomfort and moving swiftly on in a tactful way. 'What was the hotel like? Elsa told me you had a room. I bet it was lovely. I love hotels! All the freebies, the lovely sheets.' She sighed. 'Roger and I had a lovely weekend away when we were first together. Maybe I should suggest another one.'
‘That's sounds like a good idea,' said Sarah. 'But my room was very small, really. Heavenly bathroom though, with all the extras. Loads of towels, a robe, face flannel, sewing kit.' If a couple of kisses can threaten to make me lose focus, what would a full-blown date do? she asked herself. Luckily she'd nipped that one in the bud. She must not have any more contact with Hugo than she absolutely had to. Then she wouldn't get remotely distracted. If she couldn't actually see his dimples she would be able to focus completely on the job at hand. Otherwise it could make her seriously drop the ball and she couldn't afford to do that.
Elsa sighed. 'It sounds heaven. And was the bed comfortable?’
It took Sarah a few seconds to remember Elsa was talking about the hotel room and not anything to do with Hugo. For a moment she wondered if Elsa suspected something and was prodding her for details, but then she dismissed the idea. Elsa was too nice and innocent for that. 'Oh yes. Mind you, the floor would have been comfortable, I was so tired.’
There was a moment's sympathetic silence, then Bron said, 'I still don't see why you won't ask Hugo to do this wedding, if Carrie wants everything to be the same as Ashlyn's.' Bron hoped so much that Carrie's desire for a clone of Ashlyn's wedding would include her. If she could say she'd had a top celebrity as a client it would help her if she ever did manage to go freelance full-time. Even Roger might be impressed.
‘Yes, why not?' agreed Elsa. 'He's so good. He made everyone at their ease – even me.'
‘Any half-decent photographer will do that,' said Sarah. 'It's their stock-in-trade to be charming. Now I must go to the loo. When will our food get here, I wonder? I'm starving.’
While she was out of the way Elsa said, 'Do you think it's funny she's not asking Hugo?'
‘Definitely. And I think there must be some reason. She's usually so ready to recommend him.'
‘Maybe she's embarrassed that she danced with him because she shouldn't have while she was on duty,' Elsa suggested.
‘Oh that's so silly,' said Bron, waving her glass about in a precarious manner. She felt wonderfully relaxed now. 'She's a workaholic. Anyway, I think we should ask Hugo. After all, Carrie's wedding is going to be really important for us all – well, I hope me – it's mad not to have the best photographer for it.'
‘How would we get in touch with him?' asked Elsa. 'There's her phone. He's bound to be in there,' said Bron. 'Do you dare?' Elsa giggled.
Bron took a breath and, emboldened by the wine, she said, 'Of course. This is for the team. It's not like we're setting Sarah up or anything.’
`Go on then,' Elsa urged before they lost their nerve. Bron picked up Sarah's mobile and negotiated the phone book, squinting at the numbers. They were both giggling now, like a couple of naughty schoolgirls. 'He's there.’
‘Ring him then. Before she comes back.' Elsa glanced nervously at the door to the Ladies.
A moment later, in as composed a way as she could, considering the two large glasses of wine she'd drunk already, Bron said, 'Hi Hugo, we're at the Number Nine Wine Bar in the High Street, having a summit meeting about a big celeb. wedding. We definitely need you. Can you come?'
‘You got voicemail?' said Elsa.
Bron nodded. 'I never know what to say to answering machines. He won't come. I left out all sorts of details.'
‘Yes, like which town we're in. I dare say he could work it out. But never mind, we did our best. Oh, here's Sarah.’
They were on to their third bottle of wine and halfway through large plates of pasta when Bron suddenly kicked Elsa under the table. Her mouth was full at the time so she could only nod and gesture.
Elsa turned and saw Hugo through the window of the restaurant. She took a breath. 'Sarah, we didn't say anything before because we thought he wouldn't come, but here's Hugo!’