‘That’s one way of putting it. When Jude told her she wanted us to have a small ceremony in the ballroom at the Big House, Minty went into overdrive. Says we’re the perfect guinea pigs to test out her wedding-planning venture.’
‘Ah! Sorry for you, mate.’
‘I know,’ Elliot agreed soberly. ‘Mind you, itisall on the house, except our suits, and it’s not like we need wedding cars or anything. There’s Jude’s dress, of course, but she wants to wear her mum’s. It just needs altering. Minty reckons she can score all the flowers and that kind of stuff for free from her new list of wedding contacts. She’s got big plans to make ours ashowcase weddingto help attract future clients.’
‘I bet she has.’ Monty inhaled through gritted teeth, shaking his head at the powerhouse that was Araminta Clove-Congreve, as much of a local institution as the historic Big House and sprawling estate gardens that she oversaw up at the top of the village. She was the last in her family line and fiercely set upon keeping the place going – and nothing was going to stop her.
‘I saw her on my way Down-along a minute ago,’ said Elliot. ‘Marching around with a clipboard. I dived into the lime kiln shed to avoid her.’ He looked a little guilty at this.
‘Has she given the vicar his orders?’ Monty asked.
‘Ah, no, he’s off the hook this time. Just a celebrant for us; me and Jude aren’t into that kind of thing.’
‘Got it. So, I’ve a stag do to organise?’ Monty’s eyes lit up at the realisation.
‘We might be short on stags. There’s only you, me, your brother, Jude’s dad, Izaak and Leonid, of course, and Jowan will bring Aldous…’
Monty laughed at this. It was just like Elliot to make sure he included the village’s pets in his celebration. The vet did have an especially soft spot for wayward little Aldous, Jowan’s toothless Bedlington Terrier.
‘And what about Bovis?’ Monty asked. ‘Is he coming?’
‘Pfft!’ Elliot drew his neck back. ‘Not if I can help it.’
Bovis had a way of spoiling big events, like the way he’d declared his undying love for Minty last Christmas in front of the entire village. She’d received his protest with stoic dignity before telling him, in private and as kindly as she could, that he’d better pull himself together and forget any feverish romantic notions the stress of the big flood might have stirred up.
‘Probably a good idea if Jowan’s coming. Don’t want Bovis glaring daggers at his love rival all evening,’ agreed Monty.
The delivery man made the kitchen doors swing open and two sacks of potatoes were shouldered onto the preparation area. ‘Finan’s signed for ’em,’ he said before striding out once more, whistling as he went.
‘Cheers mate.’ This reminder of the long day’s work ahead sharpened Monty’s mind. ‘When we doing it, then? Saturday? The twenty-sixth? That gives me a week to plan something.’
‘Just a few drinks in the bar, yeah?’
‘I can come up with something better than that.’ No doubt Tom would have loads of stag ideas. Monty wondered if his brother might have been thinking lately about his own stag do and the thought left him dizzy, but he hid it from Elliot. ‘Might ask Minty if she has any ideas,’ he added with a wicked grin.
‘Do it and you’re fired! I’ll ask Bovis to be my best man.’
The men laughed and clasped hands, pulling themselves into another back-patting hold once more.
‘Better let you get on, then,’ said Elliot. ‘Still no second chef coming?’
‘Nope,’ said Monty. ‘The ad’s been running for weeks, but no bites. Nobody who wants a permanent dawn to dusk thing every single day of the week, anyway.’ He knew there was weariness in his voice that he couldn’t conceal.
Elliot only looked at his friend and nodded. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t say it, only leaving Monty with one last pat across his shoulder before stalking away through the swing doors, promising he’d help with any stag arrangements and costs.
‘Not likely,’ Monty called after him. ‘It’ll be on meandtop secret till Saturday! Oh shit!’ He turned just in time to stop the bisque bubbling over.
Elliot was gone. Eyeing the potato sacks on the counter, he lifted his paring knife with a sigh. ‘Ten thousand pound of peeled spuds coming up, chef,’ he said into the steamy hiss and bubble of the lonely kitchens. ‘Aye, aye, Monty, carry on,’ he told himself dryly.
And yet, Monty found the day had taken on a new light after Elliot’s visit.
In the bar, Finan switched on the sound system and Monty caught the music, singing under his breath and working at the sink. This wasn’t at all how he’d imagined his day shaping up. Out of the blue, he was suddenly going to be best man at a wedding and there was a stag party to put together, and quickly too.
Life still had some surprises in store for him, it seemed, and the knowledge that he hadn’t been entirely forgotten, stuck here at the back of the Siren, made him smile and move his feet while he worked.
Chapter Six
‘And Mum? Do we actually have a crabbing bucket?’ Radia asked, peering over the harbour wall into the clear, reedy waves.
