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A carafe of water, a glass and a vase of flowers had been procured from somewhere and set upon the table and Sherry had proceeded to empty her huge bag in a Mary Poppins manner setting out two phones, a lever arch file already divided into labelled sections, a stack of wedding magazines and—Daisy groaned in horror—her own scrapbooks and what looked like her own Pinterest mood boards printed out and laminated.
So she planned weddings online? She was a wedding photographer! It was her job to get ideas and inspiration.
If Sherry Huntingdon ever turned her formidable mind towards something other than fashion then who knew what she’d achieve? World peace? An end to poverty? Daisy winced. That wasn’t entirely fair; both her parents did a huge amount for charity, most of it anonymously. The Benefit Concert might be the most high-profile event but it was just the tip of the iceberg.
‘There you are, Seb.’ Sherry was pacing around the Great Hall, looking at the panelling and the other period details with approval. ‘Before you whisk Daisy away I need a bit of information.’
‘Whatever you need.’ His eyes flickered towards the arsenal of paper, pens and planning materials set out with precision on the tables and a muscle began to beat in his stubbled jaw as his hands slowly clenched. ‘Good to see that you’ve made yourself at home.’
‘I think it’s helpful to be right in the centre of things,’ Sherry agreed, missing—or ignoring—his sarcastic undertone. ‘Your nice man on the gate tells me that there are weddings booked in both weekends so I can’t leave everything set up but we’ll have the hall to ourselves for the four days before the wedding so I can make sure everything is perfect.’
Daisy noticed Seb’s tense stance, the rigidity in his shoulders, and interrupted. ‘It won’t take four days to set up for a few family and friends—and it’s such short notice I’m sure most people will have plans already.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course they’ll come. It’ll be the wedding of the year—rock aristocracy to real aristocracy? They’ll cancel whatever other plans they have, you mark my words. Now, the nice young man tells me the hall will seat two hundred so I’ll need your list as soon as possible, Seb.’
‘List?’ The muscle was still beating. Daisy couldn’t take her eyes off it. She wanted to walk over there, lay a hand on the tense shoulder and soothe the stress out of it, run a hand across his firm jawline and kiss the muscle into quiet acquiescence. She curled her fingers into her palms, allowing her nails to bite into her flesh, the sharp sting reminding her not to cross the line. To remain businesslike.
‘I already did you a list, Daisy.’ Of course she had. Numbly Daisy took the sheet of neatly typed names her mother handed her and scanned it expecting to see the usual mixture of relatives, her parents’ friends and business associates and the group of people her age that her parents liked to socialise with: a few actors, singers and other cool, media-friendly twenty-somethings she had absolutely nothing in common with.
And yet... Daisy swallowed, heat burning the backs of her eyes. The names she read through rapidly blurring eyes were exactly—almost exactly—those she would have written herself. It was like a This Is Your Life recap: school friends, college friends, work associates, London friends plus of course the usual relatives and some of the older villagers, people she had known her entire life.
‘This is perfect. How did you know?’ Blinking furiously, Daisy forced back the threatening tears; all her life she had felt like the odd one out, the funny little addition at the end of the family, more a pampered plaything than a card-carrying, fully paid-up adult member of the family, a person who really mattered.
A person who they knew, who they understood. Maybe they understood her better than she had ever realised.
‘Vi helped me.’ Her mother’s voice was a little gruff and there was a telltale sheen in her eyes. ‘Is it right?’
‘Almost perfect.’ There were just a few amendments. Daisy swiftly added several new names, recent friends her family had yet to meet.
Seb moved, just a small rustle but enough to bring her back to the present, to the reality that was this wedding. What was she thinking?
Her hand shook a little bit as she reread the top lines. These were exactly the people she would want to share her wedding day with. Only...
‘The thing is we did agree on a small wedding.’ She tried to keep all emotion out of her voice, not wanting her mother to hear her disappointment or Seb to feel cornered. ‘If we invited all these it would be a huge affair. I’ll take a look at it and single out the most important friends. What do you think? Immediate family and maybe five extra guests each?’ She looked around at the long hall, the vast timbered ceiling rearing overhead. They would rattle around in here like a Chihuahua in a Great Dane’s pen.
