Immie gives her a searching stare. ‘Youaresure you know what you’re getting into, marrying Marilyn’s son?’
I’m flashing Poppy a ‘what the hell?’ look. From my really, really limited experience, I’d say you don’t ask a woman that question any time within six months of her wedding, let alone the night before. If there’s one thing in life more wobbly than a jelly, it’s a bride.
Katie lets out a sigh. ‘I do know, and Seth’s completely worth it. Coping with his mum is our joint mission in life.’
Immie flops down on the chaise longue. ‘Great. Well, in that case, where are we up to?’
Poppy’s eyeing her resignedly. ‘Okay, telling it like it is, we have thousands of snowflake sequins on the ruined skirt, which all need cutting off and hand-sewing onto the replacement skirt.’
Immie’s sitting up. ‘Is that all? Why didn’t you say that to start with?’
Poppy’s looking bemused. ‘The first time around, the lady doing the job had the skirt for three weeks. We’ve got approximately eleven hours. I know you regularly work wonders, Immie, but I think this one’s out of your league.’
Immie gives a low laugh. ‘Aren’t you forgetting about Blue Watch? How many times have they hoicked us all out of the shit?’ She’s talking about the team of firefighters Chas works with.
Poppy’s frowning. ‘Well, they saved the day putting up Alice’s twiggy ceiling at the Manor last Christmas. And they helped Sera find the missing groom. Then they were like angels with magic wands when we had to move your wedding from the house to the barn at short notice.’ She’s mixing her metaphors, but we still get what she means. ‘I don’t see where they can help with this one, though?’
Immie’s laughing. ‘That’s because you don’t know about their secret vice. You don’t think they spend all those hours on call at work playing snooker, do you? Blue Watch are seriously into needlepoint. But for chrissakes don’t go broadcasting it. It’s classified information.’
Poppy’s looking flabbergasted. ‘You mean they cansew?’
Immie’s looking super-pleased. ‘Only like dreams. Give them the needles, the thread and the snowflakes, and set them up at the big bench in Sera’s studio. We’ll have them working their little tushes off faster than you can say cross stitch. With all of them, they’ll piss on this job in no time. There’s a load drinking two doors down in the Hungry Shark. I’ll get Chas to round them up.’
Poppy’s still not convinced. ‘They’ll work through until morning?’
Immie nods. ‘However long it takes. You know Blue Watch. There’s nothing they love more than an emergency. Even if there aren’t ladders involved, they’re genetically programmed to respond to people like us, who are up creeks without paddles.’ She opens her bomber jacket and gives a chortle. ‘Anyway, it’s official –Firemen can go all night. It says so on my t-shirt.’
Katie’s standing flapping her hands. ‘Thank you allsomuch, I don’t know who to hug first, everyone’s being so amazing.’
‘Maybe just hug us altogether?’ That’s Poppy’s cue for a massive group hug. Somehow when people in London do them, they never work as well as the ones here. You’ve got to admit, people in St Aidan might be hideous for sticking their noses into everyone else’s lives. But they know how to come in and haul you out of trouble.
To steal a phrase from Immie … Festering frog farts, who’d have thought?
Okay, so not only am I going to get to spend the night with a whole load of hot hunky guys in the building, but it looks like we’re right on course for a Dress Rescue too. If I’m really lucky, they might even fix the loose button on my jacket. But with a pre-wedding cock-up this enormous, that has to be a good sign for tomorrow. Doesn’t it?
Chapter 32
Monday 18th December
At Daisy Hill Farm: Cups and saucers
Katie and Seth’s Alpine Wedding
Seeing twelve guys in amongst the fabric rolls and dressmaker’s dummies in Sera’s studio, with their muscly arms and t-shirts, all poring over a table spread with soft tulle, needles flying, was almost worth the disaster. I admit I sneaked a couple of teensy pics. Obviously for my personal consumption only. Nothing to do with the biceps, simply because of the rarity value. And to remind me, when I look back, just how wild and unbelievable this month in St Aidan was.
Immie and I kept them well supplied with tea and cakes, then when they finished I waved them all off down the mews and locked up. It was some kind of minor feat that by the time I fell into bed at four, when I put my nose to my wrist and sniffed really hard, Rory’s scent was still there. Even if I did fall asleep breathing him in, it was still Luc I was chasing after in my dream. He was sailing off out of the harbour on a yacht, and I had to jump in and swim after him. Which was hell, because we all know how much I hate water. By the time Rory waded into my dream to haul me out onto the beach, I’d turned into a mermaid. My mind boggles every time I think of the psychological implications Immie would read into all that.
Then Poppy was back again early to steam the dress and whisk it back over to Katie at the farm. So, apart from feeling like I’d been hit over the head with a hammer due to lack of sleep, by the time Rory arrived to cook breakfast at eight, we were back to business as usual. By making a huge thing of rushing around and giving every detail of last night’s drama, I made it deliberately obvious I’d completely forgotten the bit where I ended up yanking Rory’s hair out. And I must be making more of this than he is, because he didn’t mention it at all either. Not that I gave him any space to get a word in.
Rory drops me off at the farm later as he heads off with my second-best camera to catch up with the guys, who are getting into their ski wear up at the Goose and Duck. As I walk into the rustic shell of the wedding barn, with its lofty ceiling, rough-hewn beams and whitewashed stonework I can see it’s the perfect setting for all the props that Poppy, Lily and Katie have added. The wood plank bar, with itsGluhweinsigns and fairy lights could have been transplanted straight from the inside of a mountain hut. The cosy red tartan armchairs and the cuckoo clock and moose heads are all working their magic as I get out my camera. There are piles of brightly coloured rugs and carefully arranged skis, sledges and ice skates, and festive touches too. A huge tree, with pink lights and multi-coloured bows and cut-out snowflakes. There are wicker wreaths with trailing ribbons hanging from the walls. Outside on the terrace, the open braziers are already alight, radiating their warmth, as the flames roar through huge chunky logs. I know Katie and Seth had been desperately hoping for snow, but after the near miss with the dress, I think they’ll be happy enough to settle for a flurry from the snow machine.
The fact that Poppy’s putting the final touches of flowers and berries to her four-tier chocolate cake shows that Seth and Katie are standing firm with Marilyn. The fact that her cake is right beside Poppy’s shows she still hasn’t given up her fight.
I can’t help letting out an excited cry when I see the glittery shimmer of icing on Poppy’s buttercream-covered tower. ‘Awww, the white drip snow looks so amazing on top of the dark chocolate. And the red and yellow, and blue and pink flowers are so zingy. Did the ganache work out okay this time?’
Poppy nods. ‘Ganache is much easier to get right when the weather’s cold.’ She looks at Marilyn’s cake. ‘Talking of Snow Queens, Marilyn’s down in the main house with her own hair and make-up team. They’ve promised to keep her out of trouble until the groomsmen pick her up later.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll pop in and take some pictures of her getting ready.’ That’s definitely one on the lists Jules sent us. ‘I’ll see Katie and the girls first, though.’ Somehow I’m so looking forward to taking pictures of the bridesmaids in their short bright tulle skirts and angora jumpers with all the props, and the guys in their suits and ski jackets, I’ve actually forgotten to worry.
