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The reception venue, when we get there, is exactly the sort of grand hotel that I would have expected. Some of the guests have already arrived, and I can see them on the terrace as smartly dressed waiters circulate with champagne and canapés.
“I wonder what all this is costing,” I muse, as Toby and I unpack our gear from the boot.
“Mm. It’s got to be the wrong side of half a million, I would have thought. Apparently, they’ve taken over the whole hotel. The bride and groom are staying here tonight, along with the bridesmaids and quite a few of the guests, and there’s a big breakfast planned for the morning, before Sophie and James go off on their honeymoon. They’re flying first class to some mega-exclusive place in the Seychelles, I believe. At one point they were talking about asking me to stay over and record the breakfast and their departure, but thankfully they changed their minds. I find one day of wedding stressful enough.”
“Do you really find it stressful? Why?”
“Weddings are probably the least favourite part of my job. You’ve only got one chance to get it right, and if a camera decides to misbehave, or something else goes wrong, you’re potentially seriously in the shit. I carry sufficient liability insurance to pay to re-stage the whole thing if that happens, but that’s not the point, is it? They want the memories of the actual day. So yes, it’s pressure, but it’s also one of the most profitable things I do, so it balances out in the end.”
Before Toby can disappear with the bride and groom, the guests are all asked to assemble on the lawn. A man fiddles with a large crate and takes out two birds, handing one each to Sophie and James.
“No way!” I whisper to Toby. “They’re doing a bloody dove release. That’s so tacky!”
“Shit, I forgot about this bit,” he replies. “I got the impression Sophie wasn’t that fussed about it, but Mrs Beresford-Smith absolutely insisted. Put your camera onto continuous mode. The crowd is going to count down from three, so start shooting just before they release, and keep going until all the doves have gone. There are fifty more in the crate, which will be opened at the same time, so there are going to be birds everywhere.”
“Where do they go, once they’re released?” I ask him. “Do they just fly off and make a new life in the wild?”
“Not likely. They’re homing birds, so they’ll just fly back to their dovecote until they’re needed the next time.”
I set up my camera as Toby has instructed. The crowd counts down from three, and I start shooting. Suddenly, the sky is filled with white doves, all clearly delighted to be free from the crate. As they fly over the assembled guests, there’s a shriek from one of the women.
“One of them bloody shat on me!!” she cries, furiously reaching into her handbag to find something to wipe the mess off her jacket with. Without thinking, I take a few shots of her as she dabs away at the stain.
“Don’t worry about it, Caroline. It’s supposed to be a sign of good luck,” one of the other guests tells her.
“Well, forgive me if I don’t feel very lucky!” Caroline retorts, dabbing frantically. “This is Givenchy, you know.”
As promised, Toby disappears with the bride and groom after the bird release, and I continue taking candid shots of the guests. A member of staff lets me into the dining room, and I take photos of all the details as Toby has instructed. The decorations are tasteful in a way that only comes about when a lot of money has been spent. The table linen is thick and crisp and the glasses shimmer in the light from the windows. The tiered wedding cake stands on a table at one end of the room, and I carefully record some of the details from the icing, which is covered with exquisite tiny sugar roses. Eventually, the guests start to file in and Toby and I withdraw to allow them to enjoy their meal in peace.
“Just the cutting of the cake and the first dance to go, and then we can get out of here,” he tells me, as he hands me a thermos flask and a Tupperware tub back at the car.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Rations, to keep us going. If we’re lucky we’ll get back in before the chippy closes, but this will keep you going in the meantime. Tea and sandwiches. Not very interesting I’m afraid.”
I realise that I haven’t actually eaten anything today and I’m ravenous, so I tear into the sandwiches enthusiastically, washing them down with some tea from the flask.
“Right, final push,” he says when we’ve finished. “Ready?”
“I think so. All I can think about is fish and chips now, if I’m honest.”
