Sarah eased her shoes off under the table. The reception was fine – so far. No one had grumbled about where they were sitting. The food had arrived in an organised fashion, and only one table had to wait any length of time. Spotting this, Sarah had appeared with a bottle of champagne and given everyone another glass.
Then she had produced a large china plate and a special pen. 'This is for you all to sign and write messages on. If you go first, you'll have more space.'
‘Won't the writing wash off?' asked one girl, who had taken the pen and was now chewing the end of it, wondering what to say.
‘No, you bake the plate and the writing is fixed. Lovely idea, I think, don't you? But please don't write too much!' Ashlyn had wanted a plate per table and so have a set of dinner plates, but Bobby, who'd wanted a different sort of china, had said two plates, maximum, although it would mean people would have to express themselves in very small writing.
Everything else had gone smoothly. Unlike at many weddings she had worked on, the Lennox-Featherstones had insisted that Sarah was catered for as if she were a guest. She had agreed only because there was room for a little table on its own from which she could leap up if the need arose.
It was a very stylish, lavish do, she had to admit, and a lot of the credit was down to her. Now she had leisure to look about her, she could admire the details. The size of the budget had definitely helped.
The flowers were superb. Sukie, her florist of choice, had done a wonderful job. The tables all had a glass cube packed with one sort of fragrant flower. Sarah had caught the whiff of freesias, fat-stemmed hyacinths and roses, as she'd moved from table to table before everyone sat down, checking everything was as it should be.
There was a long, low, sophisticated floral runner on the top table. In this the varieties of flowers went in waves, a patch of roses, followed by one of sweet peas, then one of delphiniums, and so on. Sukie had told Sarah she was creating a herbaceous border effect, to reflect the bride's mother's love of country gardens.
Ashlyn had a simple bouquet of lilies of the valley. Like many simple things, it had been fantastically expensive because, Sukie had told Sarah, it had taken 250 stems to make it really lavish. Elsa had a trailing bouquet that also included lilies of the valley, but not quite so many, and the little bridesmaids had simple posies of all the flowers represented, tiny, but very fragrant. Sukie had taken a lot of time finding out exactly what was required and Mrs Lennox-Featherstone had already told Sarah how beautiful the flowers were.
‘I'll write to her myself, of course, but if I don't get round to it straightaway, do tell Sukie how pleased we are. You are clever to have found her.' Sarah had sighed with satisfaction. Having people she could rely on made her job so much easier.
The few little misunderstandings about waiting and bar staff had been sorted out and now all she had to do was check that everything was all right at the end and make sure that anyone who needed to be paid, was. Sarah had a worryingly fat wad of notes she wore under her clothes in a travel wallet.
‘Here,' said a voice.
She jumped and turned to see a glass of champagne held by Hugo.
‘Hello.' As she didn't need to ask him anything at the moment, she didn't know what else to say.
‘Drink?'
‘No thanks. I'm working. And so are you,' she added with mock severity.
‘It takes more than a couple of glasses of champagne to fuddle my head and I haven't had one yet. Here, drink it up and stop being bossy.’
She was about to protest at the 'bossy' but realised that she was, because her job demanded it. Whether the job or the bossiness came first she didn't care to speculate.
She smiled a thank you. 'Why are you still here?' she said, having taken a welcome sip. 'I'd have thought you'd have had somewhere else to go.'
‘There're the going-away shots, and all sorts I haven't taken yet. Besides, I'm staying over – my sister and her family live not too far from here and I need to see my nephew.'
‘Need?'
‘Oh yes. He's just painted a really good dinosaur. I need to see it.'
‘Oh.' This surprised Sarah. She didn't see Hugo as an adored uncle, being scrambled over by little children and enjoying it.
‘And just now, I want to share a quiet drink with you.’
This was rather a surprise. 'Why me? Wasn't there another unattached female you could find?’
The corner of his large, humorous mouth lifted. 'Weddings are full of unattached females. I chose you because while you're possibly unattached, you're not noticeably needy.’
Sarah laughed. 'I'm not needy at all! I don't need a man to complete me as a woman, thank you very much. The idea!'
‘I wouldn't dream of suggesting that you did, Ms Spiky,' he said.
Sarah looked sideways at him. She suspected that Hugo was far too adept at flirting and far too used to getting his own way with women for anyone's good. But was he flirting now? If he was, she could think up a suitable put-down, but if he wasn't, and she said something emasculating, he would realise she thought he had been flirting. And then he would probably think he wanted her to flirt with him. She took a gulp of champagne that made her choke. He patted her on the back while she snorted into her handkerchief.
‘Are you all right?' he said, when she had finally recovered.
‘I just choked, all that spluttering wasn't an expression of my feelings, you know. It was just the bubbles going down the wrong way.'
‘That's OK then.’
The next sip was very small and very carefully drunk. She put her glass down.
`So, fancy a dance?' Hugo asked in a way that made Sarah wonder if he was expecting her to say yes or no.
Actually, Sarah's feet had been twitching under the tablecloth and she longed to confound him by accepting. But she wasn't a guest, it would be inappropriate. 'Better not. I'm working.’
He must have noticed her silent sigh. 'I'm quite sure no one would mind if you took a few moments off to enjoy yourself. Although I suspect you don't do that much, even when you're not on duty.'
‘You really have no idea what I'm like when I'm not working, Hugo. And you shouldn't speculate, either.'
‘Oh, I don't think you can stop people speculating if they want to.’
Sarah thought she detected a slight edge to his voice, but perhaps she had imagined it. 'Of course not, but you can hope they have the manners to keep their speculations to themselves.' She made a careless gesture. She and Hugo had worked together often but they didn't get a chance to chat and she realised she didn't know him very well at all.
‘Hope springs eternal, obviously,' he drawled now, 'but be prepared to be disappointed.'
‘I am always prepared to be disappointed,' said Sarah, 'and I am never-' She stopped abruptly, aware that somehow he'd backed her into a very stupid corner. She bit her lip to hide her smile.
‘You're never disappointed in your disappointment?’
‘No! People are always disappointing, that's all.' She shrugged.
‘What, all people, all the time? Hell, I knew you were cynical but surely you have some faith in human nature?’
She let slip an exasperated sigh. 'I have infinite faith in human nature, it's just…' She shook her head, searching for a way of expressing herself clearly.
‘What? Dogs? Cats?… Men?' he added more softly. 'Yes, if you must know.' If he could be direct, so could she.
‘So tell me, how many times has your heart been broken?’
This was not territory she was prepared to put even a toe on. 'I'm not speaking personally – at least, not me, personally. But I've known – do know – lots of women who've been very let down by men.'
‘And these women were perfect, were they?'
‘Well no, but – no one's perfect, obviously.'
‘Except you, of course.’
Although she was used to their banter she was not sure if he was still teasing her. 'I'm not claiming to be perfect, of course I'm not,' she said. 'But I am good at my job.' It was only after she heard the words that she realised it sounded as if she were justifying herself.
‘And I'm not?'
‘No, that's not what I meant. Of course you're good at your job. I just think I'm better.' He laughed. At her, not with her, she was certain. 'Oh shut up,' she muttered. 'Go away and annoy some other poor woman.'
‘I'll go away and get you another drink. You seriously need to lighten up, Sarah. And then, we're having that dance.' He headed over to the bar.
Sarah decided there must be something that required her immediate attention somewhere. It had to be a real task, or she'd just look pathetic. While she was thinking, Mrs Lennox-Featherstone came up on the arm of her husband.
‘Darling Sarah!' She was obviously just a little bit drunk. 'I do hope you're enjoying yourself. I know you're working but you must have some fun too. It's all going so well. Oh, Hugo!' She kissed him. 'Are you looking after Sarah? Not that she needs looking after but she does need a little break.'
‘Just what I was telling her, Vanessa,' said Hugo, handing Sarah another glass of champagne.
‘I am on duty,' said Sarah firmly.
‘But you haven't got to drive anywhere afterwards! I've booked you a room, remember. I'm sure it'll be a broom cupboard, but as we've taken over the entire hotel they were perfectly happy to let us have it for half nothing.' She kissed Hugo again. 'Come on, Donald. When we've checked everyone's enjoying themselves I'm going to get you on that dance floor.'
‘Oh, Nessie, must you?' muttered the bride's father. 'Deffo,' said Vanessa and led her husband away.
‘So you're staying over?' said Hugo, when Donald and Vanessa had gone.
‘Yes. It's lovely of Vanessa to do that. I have to check everything is in order at the end and it saves me having to drive home too late. As she said, the hotel were quite happy as they could hardly put someone not involved with the wedding in it.'
‘Is it a broom cupboard?’
Sarah shrugged. 'Well, it was probably a powder room or something once upon a time. It's quite narrow and definitely only a single. The bathroom's nice though. Slightly bigger.’
Hugo chuckled. 'I haven't been to see my room yet. I'm sure it's fine. It's handy for me as it's quite a way from where I live to my sister's and this is halfway.'
‘Have you lots of nieces and nephews?'
‘One of each, but the niece is tiny. Jack and I are sticking together, boys against the girls.’
Sarah laughed; it was nice hearing him talk about his family like this, but she found his use of language significant. She doubted the girls would win.
‘So, come on. Let's dance.’
As they approached the dance floor she realised it was a slow dance and everyone on the floor was clinging to their partners, resting their heads on shoulders wherever possible. Never mind, she thought, it'll change in a minute, and if I back out now it'll look like I'm scared to wander round in Hugo's arms for a few minutes. Which would be the truth, she added. She liked him as a friend, but attractive though he was she didn't dare even consider him as anything else.
It had been a long time since she'd been this close to a man. Hugo smelt of party: a little alcohol, a touch of tobacco and, underneath that, some very luxurious aftershave. Sarah wished she could dislike it but was grateful she didn't. He held her firmly to him, one hand on her back, the other holding her hand. She put her own free hand on his shoulder and they danced.
Once she thought she felt his cheek on her hair but then dismissed the idea. Why would he do that? But the thought made something in her respond. It was probably because she was a healthy young woman who hadn't been in a relationship for a long time. Her body was bound to respond to a man who held her close. Once she'd sorted this out she relaxed into the dance, and even closed her eyes. This was nice!
‘Hey! Can I cut in?' A large and determined uncle (Sarah recognised him) prised her from Hugo's arms and set off with her forcefully, leaving an amused Hugo behind. 'Didn't know you were part of the party,' he said into her ear. 'Thought you were staff. Damn glad you're not.'
‘Oh, I am staff!' insisted Sarah, delighted that this might make him let her go.
‘No,' said the uncle firmly. 'The precedent's been set. You're on the floor, you're dancing.’
For the remaining minutes of the dance Sarah realised that in spite of being a healthy young woman who hadn't had a relationship for ages, she was not responding to this man clamping her to him. Entirely the reverse, in fact.
Sarah didn't accept any more dances. She worked for the rest of the evening. Now, at nearly midnight, all the wedding party had left and the family had all gone up to their rooms. She was having a final trawl through the room, looking for anything left behind, when Hugo joined her.
‘When do you clock off?'
‘Not until I've made sure there are no abandoned handbags or shawls or shoes, even. I've nearly finished now, though.' She was about to add that she was longing for her bed but stopped herself in time. It would have resulted in a lot of unnecessary banter and it was too late at night for that.
‘Good. The barman is still there and prepared to give us brandy. I think you need it. I know I do.’
Sarah had not kept herself out of relationships for more than four years without knowing how to do it, but her technique relied heavily on 'having to get back', 'not wanting to drink and drive' – simple logistics, in fact. But Hugo already knew she didn't have to go anywhere and he was only offering her a friendly drink. She couldn't deny she'd finished her work and the thought of a brandy was very tempting. Her will power, so necessary to keep a calm and efficient head when on duty, was all spent.
‘Oh, OK,' she muttered.
‘It's all right, no need to sound grateful,' said Hugo, laughing, and steered her towards the bar.
There was a small sofa in the window embrasure with a little table in front of it and a view of the garden beyond. Hugo directed Sarah there and went to the bar.
The barman was Sarah's last hope. If he wanted to go off-duty – and he surely must – Sarah could say so. She could just drink up her brandy and go to bed – she'd sleep like a top.
She sat back and looked at the garden which was lit with occasional flares, making it look exotic, almost foreign. She felt content. The day had gone brilliantly. There was quite a lot of post-wedding administration to do tomorrow, but she could handle that. She didn't have to sort out any major upsets. This was the biggest wedding she'd done so far and she felt very satisfied with herself.
Then Hugo put a bottle of brandy on the table. 'Don't worry, it's nearly empty. I thought it was easier to just buy the lot. Then when the barman's finished setting up for tomorrow he can go to bed.'
‘Oh. I'm quite tired too,' said Sarah, managing not to say the 'b' word.
‘I expect you're completely shattered. Here, drink this. It'll help you unwind.’
Sarah sighed and then sipped the liquid. It felt like molten gold running down her throat. She settled back into the cushions of the sofa.
Hugo sat next to her and sipped from his own glass. 'That is truly delicious brandy,' murmured Sarah sleepily. 'Thank you very much.'
‘It's a pleasure. Have some more.' He tipped some more into her glass.
They settled into the sofa, not talking. The garden in front of them was beautiful and in the distance, from some other room, came some jazz, sensuous and poignant, just perfect. Sarah savoured the stillness after a long day full of bustle and noise. Then her glance caught Hugo's. She couldn't quite read his expression in the soft lighting and for a tiny moment she was confused. And then he smiled. In spite of all her personal barricades, she felt a flutter of anticipation.
He took her glass out of her hand and put it on the table, and then he turned her head and brought his mouth down to hers.
Sarah let herself go. It was just a kiss – and yet what a kiss! Hugo's lips held hers with just the right degree of firmness and later, gently opened her mouth. Brandy, tiredness, relief from stress and possibly years of abstinence caused Sarah to respond to everything his mouth demanded. It went on for ever; dawn could have broken while it continued and Sarah wouldn't have noticed. At last Hugo broke free.
Sarah's eyes opened and at the same moment she realised how very much she had enjoyed kissing him. A long sigh went through her and she cleared her throat. 'I think I'd better go to bed now,' she whispered. Reluctantly, the sensible part of her took charge once more.
Hugo sighed too. 'It's probably wise. There's no need to rush things, after all. I'll take you up.’
Sarah protested, but he took no notice. At the door of her room he kissed her again. Sarah chided herself for letting this happen again and then she thought: Why not? A kiss is just a kiss, after all.