‘Five quid? Is that even legal?’ said Monty, joining them in the corner.
‘So, there’s nothing?’ said Elliot, and Minty quailed.
‘Nothing?’
The voice behind them sent them spinning out of their huddle and Elliot gasped at the sight of his fiancée, fresh from her bridal bread van and in her white gown. ‘Jude!’
Any concern about Minty’s disastrous planning dissolved for a moment as Elliot took in his bride. Jude smiled up at him, just as goofily in love as ever.
‘Hello,’ he said, taking her hand.
Jude smiled back, half in a dream.
‘We’ve hit a few snags,’ he told her, but before he could go into details, the celebrant arrived.
‘Oh thank the Lord!’ cried Minty, scratching a tick onto her clipboard and hurrying the woman through into the ballroom while the celebrant explained once more that the Lord didn’t have anything to do with it; this was a humanist ceremony.
‘Yes, yes, very good.’ Minty bustled her inside.
‘I’ll, uh, get everyone in their seats,’ Monty told the bride and groom. ‘You look beautiful, by the way,’ he told Jude, before going to help Mrs Crawley and Jude’s gran to their spot at the front of the ballroom.
‘Yes, you do,’ Elliot told her. ‘So beautiful.’
Jude grinned back, swishing her dress bashfully, but the chaos at the Big House couldn’t be ignored forever. ‘So, it doesn’t sound like Minty’s got a handle on things?’
‘Well,’ he began. Elliot wanted to break it to her gently. ‘Not if you like balloons.’
Jude swept a hand. ‘I never wanted balloons. That was all Minty.’
‘Or a harpist.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘Or catering.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got ice cream and Prosecco.’
‘Right,’ said Jude, grimly, her eyes scanning around, not really seeing anything, as their guests filed past, all of them wondering why the bride was already here.
Leonid and Izaak appeared next, having spent the last hour directing the cars in the visitor centre car park. They were leading Mrs Crocombe inside.
‘I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,’ Izaak was saying to her. ‘Try not to worry.’
‘It’s not like him to be late,’ Mrs C. said again.
Izaak however, was looking between Jude and Elliot. ‘Things are not OK?’
‘Well, not really,’ Jude told him. ‘Minty’s scared the living daylights out of every wedding supplier in the south-west. They’ve all ditched her. I don’t even have a bouquet.’
‘Oh dear!’ said Mrs Crocombe, her hand to her mouth.
‘No bouquet?’ said Leonid. ‘Impossible. I can make you flowers.’ He was already on his way to grab his secateurs. ‘Back in a minute.’
‘Letitia?’ said Bovis, on his return from the kitchens and ready to collect his sled. ‘Where’s your fella?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mrs Crocombe told him, confused. ‘He said he would be here.’
