The moment Sarah had thought would never arrive finally came. Lily, on her father's arm, processed up the aisle to Purcell's 'Trumpet Tune'. She looked truly beautiful in the dress Elsa had made for her and probably only those who knew she was pregnant would notice her tiny bump. As Sarah, wearing a silk chiffon dress with a jacket in a soft yellow that toned in beautifully with Lily's underskirt, was sitting on the bride's side she couldn't hear any hissings or mutterings that might have come from the groom's section of the church. This was a relief.
As unobtrusively as possible, Sarah got the corner of her hanky up to her eyes, thinking that maybe she wasn't the cynical wedding planner she once was, and wondered briefly if Hugo had anything to do with it. Whatever the reason, her eyes took some dabbing.
Dirk, who looked young and handsome, seemed relatively serene, although there had been a bout of tears earlier, Sarah had been told.
Lily had behaved unexpectedly calmly. All the weepiness of the night before seemed to be over. Her hair and skin shone with the bloom of pregnancy and her dress looked lovely, gently opening over down the front like a gown in a medieval painting. Elsa had done wonders.
Earlier there had been a moment that caused Sarah's heart to falter, just slightly, when Lily, inevitably, had asked, 'Does my bump look big in this? Mona's really insistent that I don't look pregnant and I promised her I wouldn't.’
Sarah decided to lie. After all, it didn't actually look big, it just looked visible. 'Not at all. You look really, really lovely. I just wish Mum could have seen you.' Sarah felt her throat tighten and she swallowed.
Lily's eyelashes fluttered briefly. 'It's all right, you've seen me. And Dirk will see me, and Dad. And Mum may be looking down on us from somewhere.’
As the sisters hugged Sarah felt a moment of role reversal: Lily was comforting her and she was the one close to tears.
Lily had accepted the place settings, agreeing with Sarah that at least with her in-put, there shouldn't be too many disasters. She was very relieved not to have the formal lineup her future mother-in-law wanted, but the two-part version as suggested by Sarah. Sarah, torn in two by her sister's wedding and her first celebrity one, felt pleased to have made Lily's day easier. She knew that she'd already done loads – in fact it was through her and her contacts that it had all been done so thriftily. But Sarah also knew that she might have to scoot off early when Lily might still need her support.
There had been a few hitches before they got to this point, of course. The marquee, which had been such a bargain to hire, developed a split. Hardly surprising, considering its age and the very low rental, but it had meant Sarah had to spend quite a lot of time up a ladder with a roll of gaffer tape.
Mrs Boscastle's fine herbaceous border was the backdrop for one side of the marquee, but there had been a very small budget for flowers. Her friends, aided by the Catering Ladies, each of whom Sarah would have awarded an MBE had it been in her gift, put their many skills to good use and had made table arrangements out of what blooms there were, all of which seemed to come from their own gardens. The WI and its ilk, so despised by Mrs Boscastle, had added the final touch to make the marquee fit for a wedding. Sarah crossed her fingers that Sukie had managed to save the floral day at Somerby. She was very good, and it was a major stroke of luck that she was available, but would she have been able to get hold of enough material for something suitably sensational?
Sarah glanced at her watch as her father and Lily were deposited at the front of the church. It was twenty minutes past two.
By the time Lily's second bridesmaid went up to do a reading Sarah knew they were running very late. In theory she should get into her car now and make haste to Somerby, possibly adding the cost of speeding tickets to Carrie's bill. But she couldn't do that, she realised as Lily's friend stumbled over The Prophet – it wasn't Carrie's fault her wedding day coincided with Sarah's sister's. It was just a horrible coincidence. Should she have said no to Carrie? No, she couldn't have. A wedding like that could make her name, or – if it all went wrong – break it.
Nor could she run away yet, not until after her father had made his speech. The best man, the groom and any other random orations could go on without her, but she had to hear her dad.
Outside the church, the photographer, booked only for a very few formal shots, was rather surprised to be hustled along quite so briskly, but he knew Sarah, wanted to be used by her again, and did what he was told.
‘You don't want all those pictures of the relations,' Sarah muttered to Mrs Boscastle, as they watched the bride and groom smiling up at each other. 'Frightfully common!’
Sarah, who'd booked this photographer when she'd developed cold feet about Uncle Joby's reliability, was very glad she had. He was far more interested in chatting up Charlene than taking photographs.
Nor was there time for the bride and groom to have a glass of champagne and a cuddle in the car on the way to the reception. This was something that Sarah always suggested if it were possible. It was a moment for the newly-weds to be alone to savour the moment before the hurly-burly of the reception.
This time, however, Dirk's friend, who'd been entrusted with getting them to the reception safely, was told the priorities had changed – they now had to be there in record time. Fortunately it was very near by and anyway, Lily wasn't drinking.
The double line-up worked brilliantly. Sarah, hanging round Lily so between them they would remember the names of the more obscure family members, did overhear people asking her when the happy event was due, but if they said similar things to the families, at least Lily didn't know about it.
‘Right,' said Sarah to Lily, 'let's get people sitting down with a glass of wine – save the fizz for the toasts.’
She whisked to her father's side and explained her problem. He was already aware that Carrie's wedding was due to happen a couple of counties away.
‘But, love, we can't start straight into the speeches until people have something to eat. It's a buffet – it'll take ages.'
‘Dad, I know that, and I feel awfully mean.' She paused. 'Maybe I should just abandon Carrie. There's a good team over there. They don't need me.'
‘Now, love, don't say that. Your mother would have been so proud of you. And you know Dirk and Lily are on your side. They want you to do Carrie's wedding just as much as they want you at this one. You do what you need to do.' He leant forward conspiratorially. 'And if that bitch' – he indicated Mrs Boscastle – 'pardon my language, with a mouth like she's chewed on a lemon, gets uppity, tell me and I'll sort her.’
Sarah hugged her father, chuckling into his ear. 'That's where I get my bossiness from. It's you.'
‘No time for sentiment, girl,' he said. 'Get those glasses filled. I'm getting ready to start!’
She moved deftly through the crowd to Veronica, in charge of the Catering Ladies. 'I want you to make sure everyone has a plate and then just move among the tables with plates of food and bottles of wine, serve people where they are. I desperately need to get to Carrie's wedding!’
As the Catering Ladies were all quite excited at the thought of Carrie's wedding, they were keen to help. 'Leave it to us. We'll get this lot fed and watered before they've had time to work out what their names are.’
Sarah wondered if power was going to her head. Although she organised weddings she usually deferred to her clients. Now she practically was the client she let her organisational skills let rip. Everyone was seated, somewhere, in minutes flat. No one was allowed to complain if they were not on the table allocated – they just saw Sarah and did what she told them.
She was up by the top table, where, in theory, she was sitting, in seconds. 'Lily, darling, do you mind if Dad does his speech now? I really have to leave soon.’
Lily, who most of her life had been awkward and attention-seeking, had been transformed by marriage. 'Saresy, you've been so brilliant, you go when you like. We'll be fine without you, won't we, Dad? Charlene will do her bridesmaid bit, if necessary. Come on, Dad.'
‘Dad' nodded obligingly. 'We'd better let them get one drink down them though. My speech won't stand up to total teetotalness.’
Sarah smiled and patted his shoulder, wishing she didn't have to stick to total teetotalness herself. 'OK.' She perched on the edge of her seat and got out her mobile phone, hoping no one was looking and would think her rude. She tried the Somerby number but couldn't get an answer so she pressed in Hugo's number almost instinctively. He'd know what to do. 'Hugo?' she whispered, leaning down as if she was picking up her napkin. 'We've only just sat down but I should be able to set off from here in about fifteen minutes.'
‘Ri… ght,' said Hugo, in a way that meant it was not right. 'Carrie's not frightfully happy at the moment. No chance you can get here a little sooner?’
Sarah took in all the unexpressed urgency – she understood 'not frightfully happy' meant 'in a major strop' and knew she had to get there instantly, if not before. If Carrie got really upset with Sarah for not being there and refused to pay, it would bankrupt her and ruin her reputation. She'd had an instalment of her fee, but not enough to pay all the suppliers.
‘I'll have to leave now then. I was going to stay to hear my dad's speech.’
There was a pause and then Hugo said, 'Listen, you stay where you are. I'll collect you.'
‘But, Hugo, there's an hour between us, it won't be any quicker if you come and fetch me – longer in fact.'
‘Stay where you are. I'll come and get you. Trust me.’
He disconnected, leaving Sarah to wonder if she could in fact trust him or not. Well, she would just have to. It was bad news that Carrie was so upset. She'd known it was possible, of course. It wasn't that celebrities were any more difficult than anyone else, but they were used to a certain standard. And if Sarah had paid for a service she'd be very annoyed if she didn't really get it, even though everything had been left in good hands. It was always going to be tight but it would have been just about doable if the service hadn't gone on so long. But it had. And now she was in a major bind, torn between letting down her sister and her biggest-ever client. Although, to be fair, her sister was being brilliant about it.
Sarah stayed seated, drumming her fingers on the table for a few seconds before she realised what she was doing and stopped. 'Please get your food faster,' she silently urged the guests. 'Drink up!' She took a sip of her wine, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't going to. Forcing her mind away from her anxieties she remembered how pleased she'd been to find the wine at a supermarket. She'd tasted it in the car park, found out it was all right, and then gone back in and cleared the shelves. It was less than half price once the reduction for quantity had been taken into consideration.
The Catering Ladies were doing a very good job. She saw a wodge of sandwiches being delivered over several hats to some surprised relations who were having a good catchup. Then she noticed Veronica coming towards the top table with plates in her hands. Smoked salmon and salad -perfect! She'd explained how unhappy Mrs Boscastle had been with the buffet idea and now she might be fooled into thinking she'd got her own way in the matter after all.
Sarah chatted to her father and stepmother, trying to hide from them her anxiety about Carrie's wedding. A helicopter went overhead just as her stepmother was telling her something about buying her outfit and her decision not to wear a hat but, instead, a fascinator. Sarah nodded and smiled and hoped she wasn't supposed to be sympathetic. Inside, she was dying with anxiety and knew if such a thing were actually possible, she'd be dead in minutes.
As she turned to the neighbour on her right, hoping to take her mind off her increasing panic, there was a tap on her shoulder. It was Hugo. In person.
‘How on earth-'
‘Come on. Say goodbye as quickly as you can. I've got a taxi waiting.'
‘A taxi? Hugo..
It was only after she left the tent that she realised she hadn't actually said goodbye to anyone. She'd glimpsed Lily waving merrily at her, and flapping her towards the door. When Sarah had turned Lily had kissed her hands to her and Sarah knew that one wedding at least would be all right.
She was about to ask Hugo how he'd got there, when she was ushered firmly into the back of a taxi.
Hugo got in next to her. 'Fast as you can, mate,' he said to the driver, who, engine already running, sped forward.
‘It's not going to be any quicker to get there by taxi,' Sarah complained, 'and a whole lot more expensive. Although I must say, he has got you here very quickly. I wasn't expecting you for an hour at least.'
‘Which would have been far too late and which is why we're not going by taxi.'
‘What do you mean? This is a taxi!' Nerves were making her tetchy.
‘Yes,' he said patiently, 'but it's taking us somewhere else.'
‘Don't tell me there's an express train?' Her mind whirled around uselessly. Did this mean she could have got to Somerby, or at least the nearest town, in record time? 'Not a train, a helicopter.’