Summer at the Little Wedding Shop: The hottest new release of summer 2017 - perfect for the beach!. Jane Linfoot
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finally she picks up on my terror. ‘There’s no need to look so scared, Lily. Trust me, if I didn’t know you’d ace this, I wouldn’t suggest it.’ Her tone has switched from full-on excitement to soothing. ‘You’ve always had a great eye for weddings, you’re brilliant with brides, and you’re used to spotting trends with your flowers. What’s more, you’re talented enough to do this in your petticoat. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to extend your floral skills and push your creative boundaries at the same time.’ She sounds like she’s given this a lot of thought.
Not that I’m about to mention it, but apart from my vanishing job, I’m fine with the boundaries I’ve got. ‘But why me, why now?’
Jess gives a low laugh. ‘Good business is about seizing opportunities. You’re available, you’re here, I’d be mad not to tempt you to expand your horizons.’ Which all sounds so scary I need to make my excuses. And go.
‘I’m not sure I should be running back to St Aidan.’ My voice comes out as a croak. I left with such high hopes, and there’s not a lot to show for the last five years. Bolting home to the place I worked when I was twenty is like admitting defeat.
Jess gives a rueful smile. ‘Which is why I’m adding a sweetener. Poppy barely uses the flat upstairs now she’s with Rafe. We could throw that in too.’
‘Right.’ It’s so sudden, my mouth is still catching up. A job and somewhere to live. When five minutes ago I had neither. And even if my stomach has disintegrated at the idea of styling weddings, the view of the sea from those little round attic windows upstairs is luring me to think about it. Hard.
‘Of course, if you feel St Aidan is a backwards step, why not look at it as temporary? Find your feet, have a go at the styling, and move on elsewhere in your own time if it’s not for you. I’m happy with that.’
Jess is so great at making things work for people. That’s why she’s such a brilliant sales person.
Now she’s started, there’s no stopping her. ‘We don’t know what your mum’s plans are, but unless she’s eloping, I’m guessing she’ll be busy with a wedding. This way you’ll be around to help.’
What did I say about persuasive powers?
‘You might even be able to grow those flowers for her bouquet.’
‘Okay.’ I hold up my hand before Jess gets completely out of hand. ‘Thank you, and yes. To everything except the last bit. Flower growing was never more than a fantasy.’ That dream belongs to a different life. To a girl who took happiness as a given. I’m not that person any more.
Jess draws in a breath. ‘We’ll see.’
At times, she has a maddening habit of not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I’m mentally pushing up my sleeves, preparing to argue it out, when the shop door opens, and Poppy dashes in. She’s wearing the Barbour jacket Rafe got her for Christmas, and from the way it’s done up on the wrong poppers, I’m guessing she left home in a hurry.
Jess pushes the plate towards her. ‘You’re just in time for our brainstorming breakfast. Cinnamon whirl?’
Looks like this is me off the hook.
Poppy brushes the plate away with a half shake of her head. Without being rude, Poppy eats for England. Refusing breakfast ties in with her face being as white as the walls.
She undoes her coat, and sinks into a chair. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened.’
Jess and I stare at each other, our jaws locked. Put on the spot like this, it’s hard to know which way to jump.
Jess unfreezes first. ‘A tiny clue?’
When Poppy speaks, it’s not so much of a prompt as a tirade. ‘It’s the total worst news ever. Never in our wildest nightmares did we imagine this. Talk about saddling up bloody horses. We might as well throw away the damned pony and be done with it. Weddings at Daisy Hill Farm are finished.’
‘What?’ Jess isn’t following any more than I am.
As I go and crouch down beside Poppy, her body is shaking so hard it’s making the Louis Quatorze chair creak. ‘Okay, take it easy. Whatever it is we’ll help you. Now tell us again, but slowly this time, starting at the beginning.’
Poppy takes a shuddering breath. ‘Rafe was out early this morning …’
For those of you who don’t know, this particular farmer doesn’t seem to go to bed. What with milking, and all things farmerly, as far as Rafe’s concerned, getting up at the crack of dawn means a lie in.
I nod my encouragement. ‘Go on …’
‘So he saw it first. There’s a huge hoarding in the field on the way down to Rose Hill Manor. It must have gone up literally overnight.’ Poppy’s voice goes so high it’s almost a squeak. ‘The Manor’s setting up as … as a wedding venue.’
‘Surely not …?’ Jess gives a disbelieving shake of her head.
‘They absolutely bloody are.’ Poppy’s talking through clenched teeth now. ‘Bloody exclusive use, blissful bloody country weddings. That’s what it says on the sign.’
Exclusive use? ‘Oh no.’ A trickle of cold sweat meanders down my back. Because actually I already know this, and I can’t believe I didn’t take it seriously at the time. ‘Omigod.’ I hate myself for saying it, but sometimes nothing else will do. ‘The guy who pulled me out of the pond said the same thing, but I took it he was talking through his butt.’
Poppy wrinkles her nose. ‘How did Fred know?’
‘Not Fred. One of the Penryn brothers was there tucking into the buffet, getting off on acting the hero. I should have warned you.’
Poppy’s forehead furrows. ‘A Penryn? Not Quinn?’
There’s an uneasy twang in my stomach. I can’t bring myself to repeat that particular name out loud. ‘No, this was … er … Kip.’
Poppy is momentarily distracted. ‘Quinn was best man at Sera’s sister’s wedding. Quite a handful. He crashed a van and smashed all the crystal ware.’
Sounds about right.
‘Fabulous car though. And charm by the bucketload.’ At least Jess stops short of commenting on his apps.
‘Out of control? That fits.’ An image flashes up in my brain. Me, dripping wet on the shore at the Manor. What is it with Penryns and water? Okay. I’ll come clean. I got stranded on an island with that particular Penryn brother as a teenager, and I chose to swim away rather than stay and sleep with him. Perhaps not a great decision given how weak my breaststroke is but that was the only option for me. ‘There’s a lake at Rose Hill Manor.’ It’s out before I can stop it, although luckily I bite my tongue before the rest follows.
‘It’s not just the lake.’ Poppy’s voice rises to a wail. ‘There’s a humungous spectacular house, shedloads of bedrooms stuffed with four posters. And a ballroom. Daisy Hill Farm can’t compete with that on any level.’
Jess is tapping her loafer on her chair leg. ‘But you have holiday cottages that the Manor doesn’t. And you’ll soon have the main farmhouse up and running, and the big barn will be done for the autumn.’
Poppy hugs herself. ‘But all our financial projections relied on us being the only venue in the area. If we lose any bookings to the Manor, we can’t make it pay. And they’re going to have everything we offer, only better.’
Jess narrows her eyes. ‘Don’t underestimate yourself. You’ve made a lot of friends in the industry. We’re all behind you.’ Even though she’s sitting down she thrusts her hands onto her hips, and her voice drops to a growl. ‘If this Penryn wants wedding wars, we’ll fight him all the way.’
‘If Quinn was anything to go by …’ Poppy’s voice trembles.
Jess