‘Carrie's in town.° This was the message that Sarah had passed on to Bron and Elsa via a few frantic phone calls. They were all going up on the train to London to meet her, quite early, in part so Elsa could go to a fabric shop. Bron was coming along for moral support and Sarah was going to try and persuade Carrie to use her. Not only would it make the whole adventure more fun, and put good work Bron's way, it would mean whoever did Carrie's hair would not be swooping in at the last minute, not yet a member of what was becoming known between them as the Wedding Team.
Sarah had put off calling Hugo to confirm that Carrie wanted to see his work and what time they were all due to meet at the hotel. If only she could be normal with him. It was all very well her wanting to keep their relationship professional – but could she be? Maybe she'd be lucky and get his answering machine.
But Hugo had answered right away – sounding as if he'd just got out of bed and Sarah panicked briefly in case she'd woken him up. But then she reminded herself that not only did he have come-to-bed eyes, but he had a been-in-bed voice too, unfortunately for her peace of mind.
‘Sarah,' he drawled. 'What can I do for you?’
When Sarah said 'What can I do for you?' she sounded brisk and businesslike. When Hugo said it he sounded as if he was offering sophisticated sexual techniques, possibly involving chocolate.
‘Sorry to ring on a Sunday night, Hugo,' she said, 'but I just want to make arrangements for our meeting with Carrie tomorrow. Have you any thoughts? We're meeting her at four.'
‘I can't make four, I'm afraid, but I could do six?'
‘I'm not sure that would fit in. I mean, I'd have to ring Mandy and see-'
‘Don't worry. Mandy and I are old friends. I'll ring her.' Well, this was one less thing for her to do, at least. 'Great. So, did you manage to find a venue?' Sarah strained to make this sound like a casual request. She really didn't want him to know how hard she'd been working to sort this problem for herself and failing miserably.
‘Ah – little hitch there, I'm afraid.’
A squeak of anguish escaped her but she managed not to reproach him for raising her hopes – just. 'Oh, fine. I'll find one myself. You don't need to worry about it,' she said, with more confidence than she felt.
‘Oh, I've found a venue and you'll love it. Not absolutely what anyone's expecting but really amazing. There's just a little matter of whether or not it's licensed for weddings.’
‘That's very tantalising.' She tried to sound cheery, as if this news weren't tearing her in all directions: first hope, then despair. Ending up relatively cool was difficult. 'Where is it? If it's in the far north, I can't have it. My sister's getting married on the same day. I'll have to box and cox.’
‘What?'
‘I'll have to run between weddings. I can't let my sister down and Carrie is my most prestigious client to date.' Sarah paused, aware that if she went on talking about it, the impossibility of the situation might make her cry.
‘Ah.’
Back under control, she said, 'So where might this perfect-yet-flawed church be?'
‘If it comes off it's in Herefordshire. I don't want to tell you more in case it doesn't.’
Herefordshire was at least in the same quarter of England, which was hopeful. 'Nothing more you can tell me? I'd quite like something to tell her. Or you haven't got pictures of it by any chance, have you?
‘Sorry, not of this venue, I'm afraid. I'm going to be showing her a range of my work but I'm avoiding churches and things because the place I have in mind is really a bit different and until I'm sure-’
Sarah interrupted him. 'You do know she wants traditional? Just like Ashlyn?'
‘People don't always know what they want until they see it. Trust me, Sarah.’
She sighed. She knew this was true but suspected Carrie might be different. She was a top Hollywood A-lister; compromise wouldn't be part of her life. 'You don't have to find the venue for me, Hugo.'
‘I did offer.'
‘I know, but it's my job. It's up to me to do it.'
‘Don't sound so downhearted, Sarah,' said Hugo. 'It will all work out. Things always do.’
Sarah hadn't realised her feelings were so apparent. Why didn't Hugo understand the urgency of the matter? Why was he so wretchedly laid-back all the time? 'Not weddings, Hugo. There are TV programmes based almost entirely on videos of wedding disasters; that's why people employ me, so they don't have to sell their horror stories to claw back some of the cost of their fiasco.’
Hugo was silent for a few moments. 'Why don't I come over and take you out for a late drink? You sound as if you need cheering up.’
Just for a second she allowed herself to consider it. The idea of drinking brandy, albeit only as friends now, with Hugo took her right back to Ashlyn's wedding. It had been lovely – too lovely. 'Thank you so much but I've got to be up at dawn and I've loads still to organise.’
After they had disconnected, she allowed herself two minutes' reminiscence about Ashlyn's wedding and then carried on with her phone calls. She must be very careful where Hugo was concerned. She'd made it clear there could be nothing between them, so perhaps she was being unfair to think he'd even dare risk asking her again, even if a part, a very tiny part, of her half wished he would. She really couldn't afford to be distracted. She had to focus on the job in hand. Her reputation depended on it.
Bron arrived on the platform just as the train pulled in. She had several carrier bags with her and gave the impression of a schoolgirl going on an outing.
‘So sorry,' she gasped to Sarah. 'I thought I had loads of time but then I couldn't find a parking space, and then one machine was out of order and I had to run all the way to the other one, and then back to the car.. In spite of her difficulties, she seemed very excited. 'It's so brilliant of you to swing it for me to come!'
‘It's all right!' said Sarah, returning Bron's spontaneous hug. 'I've got our tickets. Quick, Elsa, bag that table.’
They organised themselves and eventually collapsed into their seats, all of them relaxing now they were actually on the train.
Bron got out one of her carrier bags. 'I know it's silly but I brought little bottles of champagne to drink. To get us in the mood!'
‘Oh, Bron, what fun!' said Elsa, glancing at Sarah, wondering how she'd react to this.
‘And things to eat.' A small pink cool bag came out of the carrier. 'And this!'
‘This' was a copy of Celeb magazine. On the cover was Carrie Condy, news of her approaching wedding advertised all over the front.
‘Give me that!' said Sarah. 'Mandy said something about them being interested. It would be amazing publicity for us all if they covered it.'
‘Of course they'll cover it!' Bron was passing out straws to go in the champagne bottles. Then she opened the cool bag. There were little smoked-salmon canapes and quails' eggs.
‘I've only just had breakfast,' said Elsa, nevertheless taking a roll of salmon filled with cream cheese.
‘So you managed to get away OK?' Elsa asked Bron as she eased the cork out of her little bottle.
‘Mm, yes, at last! Work wasn't hard, Mondays are quite slow and I'm owed loads of holiday. Roger was a bit harder to get round.’
Having taken Sarah's call in the pub garden the previous night, she had immediately made preparations. While actually at the pub she had asked Sasha for the day off. She had shrugged and said, 'Suit yourself.' Once she was home she had peeled some potatoes for Roger's supper the next night. The last thing she had wanted to do was to stand in her spindly heels at the sink, in her pretty dress. But Roger had told her early on in their relationship that he was a 'potato man'. Rice and pasta were a poor substitute, in his opinion. However, he wasn't much good at peeling them. If she didn't want a row, she must make things as easy as possible for him.
Having peeled them she cut them into chips, the squared-off, chunky way he liked them. When he got home from work he could cook these in the deep-fat fryer that had been their present from his parents. Bron hardly ever used it. Then she'd rummaged and found a couple of steaks she'd had in the freezer for a while and took them both out. He wouldn't need two but she could turn the other into a stir-fry the next day. She didn't actually go as far as cutting a tomato in half for him, but she considered it.
When she'd got his dinner ready as far as she possibly could, she went upstairs, showered and then put on the sexy and extremely uncomfortable underwear he had bought her last Christmas, because he liked to see her in it. When he came up to bed she was sitting up, perfumed, lightly made-up and adorned by black and red nylon, prepared to ask if it was all right if she went to London to see a client. Although Carrie Condy was only a potential client as yet, she didn't tell him that. When he heard the name he was impressed. He didn't want to show this, obviously, but Bron could tell. Later she wondered if she'd really needed the underwear to get round him. As she shuffled off to her side of the bed, now back in her own comfy cotton PJs, as near to the edge as she could get, she looked back over the day. The party had been grim. When she got back in from outside she'd been feeling more positive about herself, but the others had managed to wear away this spurt of confidence. No one had actually been rude, but she was firmly kept in her place as Roger's totty, without an identity of her own.
Those few minutes in the garden had been the only relief from it. After she'd spoken to Sarah, she and James had chatted for a bit longer. She remembered now that he'd said he was Ashlyn's parents' gardener – such a pleasant change from the commodity brokers, car salesmen and IT consultants she had been talked at by for the rest of the evening.
Bron, determined to let none of the previous day's irritations affect her day out in London, had got to the supermarket early and bought her picnic. She'd seen the magazine at the checkout and fallen on it.
Sarah, sitting next to Elsa and dressed in a business suit, was poring over it. 'It says here she's getting married in a "secret location". Well, they've got that bit right! Secret even from the wedding planner.’
Elsa said, 'Are you OK, Bron? You're still looking a bit stressed, in spite of bringing the party with you.'
‘Oh no, I'm fine now I'm here.' She smiled brightly. She reached across to her friend. 'That's a nice scarf you're wearing.’
Elsa looked down at it. 'Is it all right? I thought I should make some effort to brighten myself up.'
‘You definitely should,' agreed Bron. 'Now let's get this champagne down. It's not awfully cold, I'm afraid.’
‘It is awfully early, though,' said Sarah doubtfully. 'Have a cup of coffee afterwards,' said Bron. 'We're not meeting Ca- I mean our friend till when?’
Sarah lowered her voice. 'Four, and well done for not saying the name. Although it's in Celeb, no one is supposed to know about it.’
Elsa laughed. 'It is ironic, isn't it? Still, cheers! Here's to a great day out.’
They all clinked bottles and settled back in their seats.
‘So what's everyone doing before we get to meet the client?' asked Bron after a few minutes of companionable champagne-drinking silence.
‘I'm going to a fabric shop,' said Elsa. 'I'm hoping to get loads of samples for her. I've got quite a lot already but more is definitely more.' She belched politely. 'It's very fizzy, that champagne.'
‘It's supposed to be. The straws make it more intoxicating. Stop looking so worried, Sarah! What are you doing?'
‘I've got various bits and pieces that I want to find out for my sister, such as how quickly you can get a passport -why she hasn't got one I don't know. Anyway, what are you going to do, Bron? Go with Elsa?'
‘You're very welcome. It's a lovely shop.'
‘To be honest, to go shopping, in Oxford Street, without Roger, or anyone, would be total bliss. Brilliant not to have to rush to catch a train afterwards, too.'
‘Mm,' agreed Elsa. 'But Sarah? Who's paying for the hotel room? Not you, I hope?'
‘Carrie is, at least for us two. If she takes Bron on, then her room will be paid for too, obviously. If she doesn't,' Sarah went on quickly, 'it'll be absorbed by everything else. We don't need to worry about it.’
Bron sighed. 'I can't tell you how much I hope she takes me on, but the chances are minute. She's bound to have her own stylist and hairdresser.’
There was a silence. No one wanted to agree with her, but they all knew she was right. 'I need some bits and pieces for work too,' said Bron. 'I don't like buying my stuff through Sasha if I can help it.'
‘Why don't we go and do what we need to do and then meet up for a late lunch?' suggested Sarah. 'Then we can go and meet Carrie afterwards?'
‘Wonderful,' agreed Bron. 'We have all got each other's numbers, haven't we, in case I get lost and need to be talked my way to the restaurant?’
Having confirmed they had, they sat in silence for a while. Elsa was thinking about her evening with Laurence.
He'd been the perfect gentleman, taking her home, kissing her on the cheek. That was lovely, of course, but Elsa realised she wouldn't have minded if he'd been a tad less gentlemanly. A kiss on the lips would have been perfectly acceptable.