The table settings look great and, now that the napkins have been chosen, are almost completed. The stage is ready for the band, the photo booth set up exactly where it should be in the corner, the favors sorted in the basket by the exit—one down, thanks to Adrian, but that’s okay because I intentionally orderedspares, just in case—and the table plan, beautifully illustrated by this local artist I tracked down on Instagram, is propped up neatly on the easel. There’s also a large rustic crate just inside the door with a pile of cream knitted throws in case it’s a little chilly tomorrow, while in the house are forty giant umbrellas I ordered for the guests on the off chance that it rains when we’re doing the photographs outside (though when I last checked the weather forecast, ten minutes ago, it was still saying it will be mild and sunny). But you can’t be too careful—and I’ve really tried to think of everything.
“Don’t worry, everyone, I am here and ready to help,” announces Leo, Ruby’s boyfriend, as he enters the marquee, rubbing his hands together.
“You’re a few hours late,” Ruby complains, watching him saunter toward us. “Everything is done!”
He gives her a mischievous grin. “Then I’m right on time, if you ask me. Sorry, the train was delayed this morning and it was a little tricky getting a taxi from the station. You were right, Rubes, I should have got yesterday off work too and driven down with you Wednesday night. But, I’m here now!”
“When will you learn I’m always right?” Ruby sighs as he throws his arm round her waist and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Make yourself useful and get us hard workers a drink, will you? Really the least you could do.”
“Not for me quite yet,” I remark, focusing my attention back to the table settings and nervously checking them over once again. “There’s still a few things I need to cross off the list.”
“She’s joking, right?” Leo asks Ruby, before turning back to me. “Freya, it’s the day before your wedding. Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing?”
“I don’t think there are many brides who spend the day before their wedding relaxing, Leo,” I point out, getting my phonefrom my pocket to run through my checklist. “I’m almost certain that, traditionally, the day before is reserved for freaking out.”
He snorts. “I don’t think you’ve ever freaked out in your life, Freya. What could you be worried about right now?”
“Well, my brother has lost the peacocks—”
“The what?”
“—and I need Matthew to run through some things with the catering manager, because we have to confirm timings.”
“Speaking of the groom, where is he?” Leo asks.
“He’s with his parents. They went for lunch together.”
Leo raises his eyebrows. “Where? Please don’t tell me they went to the Crown. I cannot see Matthew’s parents enjoying the cuisine on offer there.”
Leo has a point. He and Ruby have come to stay at my dad’s a few times and they’re well aware that the Crown is the nearest pub in the area—it’s the nearest anything in the area—but that the food there is both limited and questionable. We’re almost certain that the landlord buys a selection of ready-made meals from the supermarket, whacks them in a microwave, and serves them up for a tenner. Matthew’s mum, Gail, is very prim and proper. There’s no chance she’d touch anything put in front of her in the Crown. I doubt she’d risk perching on one of the chairs, let alone eat the food.
Although Matthew loves it here at Dad’s, he’s really a city boy at heart, whether he admits it or not. He likes to go on about how one day he’d love to escape to the countryside, but first he’d have to give up the luxury of the huge variety of restaurants and bars on our doorstep in London, and—considering that eating and socializing are basically his favorite things to do—I can’t exactly see that happening for a long time.
“I think they went for lunch in town, don’t worry,” I assure Leo. “They’ll be back soon.”
“You know what I’ve been thinking? How nice it is that you and Matthew are opening the Wedding Season and we’re closing it,” Leo announces.
I frown at him. “The Wedding Season?”
“Yeah. We have nine weddings this year.” Leo exhales, shaking his head. “It’s mad.”
“Welcome to your midthirties, Leo,” Ruby remarks with a grin.
“Midthirties?! I’m thirty-two! That’s pretty much late twenties!” he protests.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she says, patting his arm.
“I think we have eight weddings this year, including ours,” I say, leading them over to the bar to check that the staff will have everything they need tomorrow.
“Exactly, a whole season of weddings.” Leo nods. “Hence my point. Here we are, kicking off the Wedding Season with yours in March, and we’re bringing the season to a close in September. It’s going to be a big year.”
“Look at us, all grown up,” Ruby comments, studying tomorrow’s cocktail menu written on the chalkboard. “I’m going to be a mess tomorrow. Waterproof mascara at the ready.”
“You think you’ll shed a tear saying your vows, Freya?” Leo asks curiously.
Ruby snorts. “Have you met her? Heart of stone, that one.”
“So sweet of you to notice,” I say dryly. “I hope that’s a line from your maid of honor speech.”
