‘Oh, right.’ She’d assumed it would be a summer wedding. She quickly calculated how many months pregnant she’d be – six and most definitely showing.
‘I won’t ask you to be a bridesmaid,’ teased Bunty, guessing what was going through her friend’s mind. They both fell into giggles.
‘Can you imagine, me parading up the aisle behind you with a swollen belly?’
‘I’m sure you’d look splendid,’ laughed Bunty, then paused in thought, ‘though I think Emma should be one.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Jasmine, which prompted her to ask after Emma.
‘Oh, she’s happy as Larry,’ replied Bunty and told Jasmine about Emma’s London trip to Felix’s penthouse.
‘Who’d have thought the mysterious buyer was none other than Felix Paschal.’ Jasmine shook her head in wonder. ‘What does Perry think about him?’ She’d learnt from Bunty that the relationship between Felix and Emma was more than just a platonic professional one. The question made Bunty smirk faintly.
‘I think he had reservations to begin with, but that was Perry being his usual protective self. Once he’d met Felix and gave him the ‘you-better-look-after-my-daughter’ speech, he seems fine.’
Jasmine grinned. ‘Most fathers would be thrilled their daughter’s bagged a rich movie star.’
‘Not Perry. He just wants Emma to be happy with Mr Right, regardless of his wealth.’
They sat in silence, ruminating on those wise words. It wasn’t lost on either of them how they resonated with the past. Bunty was of course referring to her father’s interference with her and Perry’s relationship in the early days. It was so sad, to think of the wasted years. All the more reason to celebrate their forthcoming wedding, thought Jasmine and said so to Bunty.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ agreed Bunty resolutely. Looking pensively into Jasmine’s eyes she continued, ‘And you, my darling, this isyourspecial time too. Yours and Robin’s, nobody more so deserving.’
If ever there was a moment which screamed hug, it was now. The two reached up in unison over the table and embraced. Two women, young and old, firm friends.
The filming was taking place in the kitchen, which was highly inconvenient for Emma.
‘But how can I prepare the refreshments?’ she’d asked Felix when he’d told her they were due to set up there.
‘We’ll just have to make do with cold drinks for today,’ he’d replied airily. For Felix, it was imperative they shot the scenes down in the kitchen as soon as possible, whilst there was good light.
It was late January and a bright day, so he was keen to make the most of it. Even with the daylight shining through the two sash windows, the cameramen had also stood standing lights in the corners of the kitchen.
Frustrated but not thwarted, Emma had improvised refreshments by making up a few flasks of boiling water just before they’d set up and put teabags and instant coffee in bowls for people to make their own hot drink. There were also jugs of milk, juice and water.
However, it was unlikely a tea break was about to happen any time soon; Felix was getting tetchy. Whilst the main cast were all on form, one or two of the cameo roles had struggled. So much so, Felix had been left wondering just how they’d managed to get a part in the first place. At first, seeing the young actor playing the butcher’s boy fall off his bicycle while shooting outside this morning had been comical. Even he had seen the funny side of it, dusting himself off with rosy cheeks.
‘Sorry about that,’ he’d laughed. ‘I’ll soon get the hang of it.’
Except, after five takes, he clearly hadn’t. They’d hired the vintage bicycle from the props department and Felix was concerned about the state it was going to return in. Already he’d bent the handlebars and damaged the back wheel.
‘From the top, again,’ directed Felix, waving his hands for the young actor to set off riding down the garden path once more. Finally, he was filming a convincing butcher’s boy about to make his delivery. After managing to ride pretty competently, halt and dismount, he then took the wicker basket off his bike and knocked on the back door.
‘And cut!’ Felix had shouted with utter relief.
Now, inside the kitchen, a young girl was playing the role of Jilly, the parlour maid. She answered the door with such nervous energy, it flung back hard, banging against the wall.
‘Again please, with a little less gusto,’ said Felix flatly.
The second take went well, with all the cast reciting their lines word perfect. It was only when Felix was about to cry cut, did the cameraman notice the espresso machine in view. When he pointed this out, Felix closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in despair.
‘Who left that there?’ he thundered, pointing to it.
The last thing he needed was a modern appliance sitting on the worktop of a 1920s kitchen. An awkward silence hung in the air, when a small voice answered. Emma had been nearby when she’d heard Felix and, creeping gingerly down the stairs, she steadied herself for the onslaught.
‘It was me, sorry. I forgot to move it when everything was being set up inside.’
Felix spun round. ‘Em-ma,’ he groaned.
