I heard the door open and close and a male voice, which was shortly followed by a high-pitched wail.
‘What? He can’t!’
27
I put the tin of teabags down on the worktop and rushed back into the living room. Sam, Tilly’s fiancé, stood near the door and Tilly was pacing up and down. She was currently on a path heading away from me. Alex and Charlie hadn’t moved. Alex still had his head buried in his tablet, whilst Charlie was doing something that made him look busy but I suspected otherwise. He’d already scratched the back of his neck twice now.
‘Hi, Sam.’ I walked over and gave him a hug. ‘Everything all right?’ His expression, and Tilly’s frantic pacing suggested that things weren’t exactly tickety boo but I wasn’t sure what else to say.
‘Things are most definitely not all right!’ Tilly turned sharply and began to pace in the opposite direction. ‘My wedding is going to be a disaster!’
‘It’s not going to be a disaster. We’ll sort something out,’ Sam soothed.
‘No! We won’t! Do you know why? Because we’re supposed to be getting married in three weeks and now we don’t have a photographer!’
‘That hardly makes it a disaster,’ Sam replied.
Eeek!
I made to step across but too late. Tilly was off!
‘Not to you, maybe! But this is supposed to be my big day! It’s supposed to be perfect! All of it! With a photographer there to record Every Single Perfect Moment!’
‘I thought it was supposed to be our day.’ Sam frowned.
Oh, Sam, please stop talking.
Tilly turned and opened her mouth but I got there first.
‘Look!’ I said, cutting her off. ‘Do you have your wedding book here?’
Tilly had been hauling the enormous file around for months. It was filled with contacts, cuttings, pictures, notes, recipes, and pretty much anything else that she had ever seen, or any thought that she had ever had, in connection with this wedding.
My assistant, distracted by my intervention, closed her mouth and looked at me.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Go and grab it, then.’
Tilly looked at me for a moment, then walked over to her bag, and hauled the file out. I motioned to her to bring it over to the sofa and pulled her down next to me. The beautiful make-up that we had so carefully applied for the photo shoot was now streaked with tears and her false eyelashes were looking as though, given the chance, they might well make a break for freedom.
‘He said he’d sorted the double booking out,’ she said, her voice cracking.
Seeing my bouncy, fabulous assistant so unhappy made me want to get hold of that photographer and crack something else.
‘I know,’ I said, reaching out and stroking her hair. ‘I know. But, like Sam said, we’ll get something sorted. There’s five good brains here. I’m sure we can come up with a great plan between us.’
She nodded, not looking at me. A tear plopped from the end of her chin onto my lap, swiftly followed by another.
‘Oh, now, come here. It’s all going to be fine. Just perfect,’ I said, wrapping her in my arms and rocking her as she cried. ‘You’ll see.’
My head was resting against Tilly’s but I lifted my eyes to meet Charlie’s gaze. He was still sitting at the other end of the sofa.
‘Do you think you boys could make some tea, please?’
The English and Irish sides of my heritage often differed but in times of crisis, they converged perfectly. What was most definitely needed here was tea.
Charlie stood, seeming pleased at being given something to do, rounded up Sam and dragged Alex into the kitchen on his way. I heard movement and talking, and soon laughter coming from their direction, which I was glad of. Distracting Sam was a good start for the boys.
