This is the difference between lovely, anonymous London and St Aidan. I try not to shudder at the way everyone here not only has an opinion, but feels entirely free to express it. Instead I grab my bags as Rory goes into the back of the beer-mobile and unclips Teddie. ‘Not taking him inside in his seat?’
Rory gives a grin. ‘I’m actually finding, so long as there’s not too much screaming, a man with a baby in his arms gets a universally great reception. You know what I’m like. We might as well turn the negatives into positives.’ He slings the nappy bag over his shoulder, pulls Teddie onto his hip and strides the few yards towards the house.
I’m opening and closing my mouth as I run to keep up. ‘You’re taking the changing stuff too?’
He glances over his shoulder. ‘Hell, yes. The more hands-on you look, the better the impact.’
As he opens the door for me, I wander into a fabulous high hallway with the kind of curving staircase I dream of walking down when I’m having a Cinderella moment. Not that I’ve had many of those in real life. When we went to Luc’s smart work’s balls, he’d always go on ahead of me to chat with his contacts. Any ‘entrances’ I made were more me creeping out of the lift on my own, trying not to get lost and accidentally crash into the kitchens. I was more concerned about checking I didn’t have my tulle petticoats tucked into my Brazilians than making a big impression.
‘Wow.’ Two paces into the hall I stop. The half decorated Christmas tree I’m staring up at has to be almost as big as the one at St Pancras. ‘Black and white too. That really works.’ I’m thinking out loud again. Despite my determination to avoid everything festive, I can’t help feeling a little rush of excitement. I’m looking up at two girls in dungarees on high step ladders, hanging baubles and striped bows in the upper branches. By the time I’ve finished my gasps of awe they’re already back at ground level, cooing over Teddie. I try to ignore the ‘told you so’ grin Rory is giving me over the top of their heads.
As the girls fuss Teddie, Rory plays along until he gets bored. Approximately ten seconds. Then he carries on talking to me. ‘So, lots of potential for shots on the stairs. And the brides both arriving together in the same horse drawn cart should be great too, even if there won’t be as much snow as there was in Jules’s shots of last year’s Christmas wedding.’ That was when Sera’s sister Alice got married in three foot snowdrifts the morning after a blizzard, and needless to say Jules’s pictures from that are amazing. ‘As for the black and white, they’re St Aidan rugby-team colours. Travis and Taylor both play for them. That’s how I know them.’
I’ve a vague recollection of Rory being as outstanding at sport as he was at everything else. Waving silverware over his head up on the school stage. Team captain, collecting trophies in assembly. Probably one more reason they forgave him for the rest. ‘Do you still play, then?’ I’m not sure I’ve heard him using rugby as an excuse to dump the kids.
For a second a shadow passes across his face, then he brightens again. ‘It’s been a while. I’m too busy topping up St Aidan’s alcohol supplies these days. Award winning Mad Elf doesn’t make itself, you know.’ Although, to be picky, there’s been precious little evidence of Rory spending time at the brewery these last two weeks, so there has to be a workforce doing it for him. He waves his free hand towards the landing. ‘Sophie and Saffy will get ready upstairs. Bridesmaids are in black, by the way, brides in white. Then they’ll make the hundred yard journey from the front door to the other side of the house with their dad, driven by Ken and Gary, pulled by Nuttie. There will be more fabulous photo opportunities for you there too.’
‘Great.’ I’m blinking at how well briefed he is and reminding myself to check out Jules’s vantage points when we go back outside. ‘Let’s hope Ken’s feeling less reckless than the day they gave me a lift in the cart, or the brides might end up in the lake.’
Rory ignores that comment and carries on. ‘The ceremonies are in the Winter Garden, which due to the sheer number of guests is also going to be used as a bar area later.’ He smiles down at the girls as he practically has to wrench Teddie away. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we need to carry on with our tour.’
We make our way past stacks of chairs and piles of boxes waiting to be unpacked. As we reach some wonderfully airy rooms with French windows looking out across the lake, I can’t help comparing. ‘Not many living rooms are the size of Luc’s loft … but I reckon these are bigger.’
Rory frowns at me. ‘I thought we just agreed you were going to forget about Luc?’
‘What?’ Were we even in the same conversation back there? I’m about to ask where the hell he got that impression from when something beyond the torn checks of Rory’s threadbare shirt catches my eye. Through some open doors there’s a room that makes Luc’s flat look doll’s house- sized. ‘Flaming Ada, isthatthe …?’
Rory’s voice is calming. ‘Okay, Holly Berry, there’s no need to hyperventilate. It’s only a ballroom. With tables laid out to seat two hundred, for a five-course silver-service meal. And don’t worry, the Winter Garden is nothing like as huge.’
Two hundred? Would that be guests?There’s a blue linen sofa in front of one of the French windows, and somehow I manage to stagger across and sink down onto it before my jelly legs give way completely.
When my voice comes out, it’s a rasp. ‘It’ssomuch bigger than the Lifeboat Station wedding. And that amazing Christmas tree is only the start. It’s all going to be so posh and proper … andmahoosive…’
As he stoops down and bumps the changing bag down next to me, Rory’s voice is low. ‘I know it’s big and I know it’s daunting. But look at it this way. You won’t be taking any more pictures than you took at the other wedding. There’s potential for fabulous shots wherever you are, here, in or out of the house. I’ll line everything up for you, tell you where to be and what to take. All you have to do is look through the viewfinder and click the button.’ The resonance of his voice is incredibly soothing. He’s almost talked me down here. ‘I know it’s a double wedding, but …’
‘Aaaaaaaarghhhhh!…’ My howl is because I’d momentarily managed to forget the worst part. And he just reminded me.
There’s a scuffling and a crowd of people with inquisitive looks on their faces arrives in the ballroom doorway. ‘Everything okay there?’
However wretched I feel, I’m determined that the wedding photographer having a meltdown at the Manor will not be what people are going to be discussing over their cottage pie, sugar snap peas and carrots when they go home this evening.
‘Absolutely fine.’ I’m lying and croaking at the same time. But the important thing is, I’m holding it together. ‘We’re just on our way out to get some air …’ I’m bobbing my head so hard at the French windows, trying to get Rory to take the hint, I feel like one of those nodding dogs.
At last he gets it. ‘Great. Next job, then.’ He sends a smile to the watching hoard. ‘We’ll get out of your way and check out the views of the lake from the terrace.’
There’s a pause, then a hesitant voice. ‘Is that a baby you’ve got there?’
Then another. ‘Are you a stay-at-home dad, then?’
Rory looks delighted they’ve noticed. ‘Obviously I’m not a complete stay-at-home person, because I’m out and about, aren’t I? And actually I’m the uncle.’ He’s so pleased, he’s almost simpering. ‘This is Teddie and if you’d like to meet him, he loves to say “hello”.’
If that was meant to be the signal for the crowd to storm forward, it worked. It’s more of a stampede than a rush. Don’t ask me why one pudgy baby is so much more interesting than setting out a stately home ballroom for a wedding, even if he is beaming around at everyone. Whatever, by the time we push through the doors and back into the cold afternoon, it’s a whole lot later. By this time I feel grim rather than desperate. And I’m seeing that what Rory says about the opportunity for fabulous pictures is as true as what he says about the baby thing.
The terrace has lanterns along the edge of the time-worn stone flags and hanging strings of bulbs defining the outdoor areas, which are going to be fabulous at night. I can see by looking in from the outside that the Winter Garden and ballroom have wonderful floor-to-ceiling windows, the stonework and doorways are lovely, there are gazebos in the distance, and woodland and the drive. And then there’s the backdrop of the lake, which makes me go wobbly all over again, but this time in a good way.
Rory’s blowing out his cheeks and pulling Teddie’s hood up to shelter him from the wind. ‘So would you like to try taking a few pictures?’
I pull a face. Somewhere so big, we can’t possibly cover every potential shot like we did at Port Giles. Somehow, even trying a few feels like it might jinx me for the real thing. It might be best to come at it completely fresh. ‘Thanks. But I think I’d rather just turn up on the day and go for it. So I’m pretty much done here.’
