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Daisy looked up at a rustle and relaxed again as a bird rose out of a tree. ‘Tell me as soon as you hear anybody. I want to capture their faces as they walk in.’ The guests were being brought to the woodland by coach via a drinks reception at the local pub, the place where the bride and groom had first met.
‘Shouldn’t you be sitting down and maybe eating something while there’s a lull?’ But she didn’t hear him, lost in a world of her own.
‘Look, Seb,’ she said softly, and he did, trying to see what she saw as she zoomed in on the brightly patterned bunting that bedecked the inside of the tent as well as the glade.
‘These are the touches that make this wedding so special. Did you know that Ella and her friends made the bunting during her hen party? And look at these.’ The camera moved to focus in on one of the paintings propped up on the small easels that were the centrepiece on each table. ‘Rufus painted these, a different tree for each table—oak, laurel, ash, apple, all native species. Aren’t they gorgeous?’
Studying one of the confident line drawings, Seb had to admit that they were. ‘He’s very talented.’
‘Even the wedding favours are home-made. Ella spent her first day off work making the fudge, and her gran embroidered the bags. Look, they all have a name on. One for each guest.’
‘It must have taken months.’ Seb kept pace with her as she wandered.
‘It did. This wedding is a real labour of love. Even the venue belongs to one of their friends.’
The contrast with their impending nuptials couldn’t be starker.
But theirs wasn’t a labour of love. It was a convenient compromise. Mutually beneficial. Maybe it was better to have the glitz and the glamour so lovingly lavished upon them by Sherry Huntingdon. Anything as heartfelt as this wedding, any one of the myriad tiny, loving, personal touches would be completely out of place at his wedding. Would be a lie.
* * *
‘Admit it, you had fun.’ Daisy threw herself into her favourite rocking chair, grateful for the warmth and the cushion supporting her aching back. She crooned to Monty as he padded over to lay his head in her lap. He was already her most faithful friend much to Seb’s much-voiced disgust, possibly because she was not averse to sneaking him titbits from her plate.
‘I’m not sure fun is the right word.’ Seb filled the kettle and stifled a yawn. ‘I always said your schedule was crazy but it’s more than that, it’s downright gruelling.’ But there was respect in his voice and it warmed her. She was well aware of his opinion about her job.
And he was right, it was gruelling, somehow even more so in a small intimate setting like today’s woodland scene. Gruelling and odd, being part of someone’s wedding, integral to it and yet not connected. A stranger. As the afternoon faded to evening and the guests drank more, ate more, danced and the mood shifted into party atmosphere the gap between the help and the guests widened. There were times it was almost voyeuristic watching the interactions from the sidelines. It had been nice to have company today.
She really should get an assistant and not just because of her pregnancy.
‘I would normally be the first to suggest you rest but don’t you have a blog to write? If it’s not up before midnight the world shifts on its axis and Cupid dies?’ He held up a ginger teabag for her approval. Daisy considered it without enthusiasm before pulling a face and agreeing.
She shifted in the chair, pulling her feet under her, and began to pull at Monty’s long, soft ears. He gave a small throaty groan and moved closer. ‘Did it in the car. It’s amazing, home before midnight and job done, for today at least.’
She looked over at her bag, the cameras loaded with images. ‘Tomorrow however is most definitely another day. I promised them thirty images before they go away on honeymoon. Still, I feel much better than I thought I would. I don’t suppose you would consider a permanent career as bag carrier and chauffeur—and photo-booth operator?’ She smiled, a sly note creeping into her voice. ‘You were quite a hit. Some of the women went back to have their photo taken again and again.’
‘How do you know? I still can’t believe it took an hour and a half to take those woodland shots. I think you went for a nap somewhere leaving me to do all the work.’
‘Oh, I was. Curled up in a pile of leaves like Hansel and Gretel while woodland birds sang me to sleep and squirrels brought me nuts. And I know because the sexy photographer was quite the topic of conversation—and I don’t think they meant me!’
‘Jealous?’
Daisy didn’t answer for a moment, focusing all her attention on Monty as she scratched behind his ears, the spaniel leaning against her blissfully. ‘A little, actually.’ She still couldn’t look at him as she chose her next words carefully. ‘There was a little bit of me that wanted to tell them that you weren’t available, that you were mine.’ She looked up.
