Chapter TWO
‘A Hallowe’en wedding?’
Maddy’s expression, on hearing Sylvia’s latest news, was one of wide-eyed excitement.
I was pretty amazed myself. What Sylvia was describing, as she sipped her latte at a table by the window in the Little Duck Pond Café, was a far cry from a registry office ceremony followed by a quiet drink and buffet in the Swan Hotel, which had been the original plan!
Raising her cup, Sylvia beamed at Maddy, Katja, Ellie and me.
‘Yes, you can tear up your invitations, girls, because there’ll be a new one in the post very soon.’
I caught Ellie’s eye and gave her a discreet wink, and she raised her eyebrows and smiled. Her chat with Sylvia after I’d explained the situation with Mick had clearly helped a lot and I was keen to find out what they had planned instead.
Ellie had told me she’d talked to Sylvia about Archie, who was married to Ellie’s mum, Rose. Archie had apparently had heart surgery himself in his fifties but he was now approaching his eighties and was still in remarkably good health. Apparently, Sylvia had cried a little and admitted that her fear that she might lose Mick was putting a strain on their relationship, which she hated. Ellie had gently suggested that maybe she and Mick should go back to the drawing board and plan their wedding together, and Sylvia had agreed, saying all she wanted was for Mick to be happy on their special day.
Ellie had clearly done a great job of convincing Sylvia that she didn’t have to treat Mick like a precious antique – and an intriguing and potentially-fabulous Hallowe’en wedding was the result!
‘So we’ve decided to get married at Riverbend Hall?’
Sylvia was saying.
‘That big Gothic mansion not far from here? We went to see it yesterday and it’s quite superb. There’s a river running right past it, with a little jetty at the bottom of the lawn, and it’s got pointed arches, huge, long windows and roof-top spires galore. It’s rather run-down but I think that only adds to the character of the place.’
Sylvia’s cheeks were a-glow with happiness.
‘It’s a Miss Frobisher who owns the hall, along with her brother, but she runs the place. It’s been in her family for years. She recently organised a ghost-hunter gathering there – because apparently, the place is haunted.’
‘Gosh, it sounds perfect for Hallowe’en. Really creepy,’
said Ellie with relish.
Sylvia nodded.
‘We’ve booked it over three days for the wedding, starting on October 31st.’
‘But will that give you enough time to get everything organised?’
I asked, feeling anxious at the very thought of it. October was already underway, which meant they had three weeks to plan another wedding – at a totally different venue!
Sylvia finished her coffee, set the cup down in the saucer and smiled.
‘It’s true that it’s going to be a bit of a scramble to get ready for the Big Day, but Celia has already said she can do the flowers and Mick’s managed to book a band and a photographer. Miss Frobisher is actually a wedding celebrant, so the ceremony won’t be a problem.’
‘What about food and drink?’
asked Maddy.
‘Ah, yes. Very important.’
Sylvia shrugged.
‘That’s the only thing we haven’t managed to sort out. But there’s plenty of time yet.’
‘Three weeks?’
I squeaked, and everyone laughed.
Sylvia grimaced.
‘When you put it like that . . . but I’m sure we’ll get something in place. Even if I have to cook the Hallowe’en eve-of-the-wedding dinner myself.’
‘Ooh, a Hallowe’en dinner the night before the wedding?’
Maddy grinned.
‘Sounds very spooky.’
‘Yes. And you girls are all invited to it. I’ve decided it can be my hen party! Riverbend Hall is a big place with ample bedrooms, so if you like you can all stay over and when you wake up the next morning, it will be my wedding day.’
I sighed at the sheer romance of it all.
‘That sounds amazing.’
Happiness had lit Sylvia from within and I had to quickly blink and swallow down a rogue tear myself.
‘I guess that means we can all get ready for the ceremony together on the morning of the wedding. But what about Mick? How will he be celebrating his last night of freedom?’
Sylvia smiled.
‘He’s decided he wants to celebrate with “the boys” at the Swan Hotel. So Rob will hopefully help organise that?’
She looked at me and I nodded.
‘Of course. He’ll be delighted to.’
‘Will your sister be travelling up from the south coast?’
asked Katja.
Sylvia nodded.
‘Most of Mick’s family are local, of course.’
She smiled at me.
‘But my sister and her family will be driving up from Bournemouth on the morning of the wedding. Agatha isn’t in the best of health and I know she much prefers to sleep in her own bed these days. So we’re having the wedding ceremony at noon so that it’s not too tiring a day for her and she can leave by mid-afternoon. Some of the family might stay over, which would be nice.’
‘What made you decide on a Hallowe’en wedding?’
asked Ellie.
‘Sorry about the twenty questions but it’s just all so exciting.’
Sylvia smiled.
‘Well, I’ve always loved that time of year, ever since I was a child, getting dressed up and doing all those Hallowe’en things like ducking for apples and making turnip lanterns, and so has Mick. He likes it even more than the festive season. So when we were trying to find a last-minute wedding venue in a hurry – not easy, by the way! – and this grand but rather eerie-looking mansion appeared on the screen with plenty of availability, we went to see it. And walking around it, we decided we should just go with the whole Gothic atmosphere of the place and book it for Hallowe’en.’
‘That is immensely cool.’
Maddy grinned.
‘So should I be sporting a bloody dagger through my head instead of a hat?’
Sylvia chuckled.
‘Whatever you like. Of course, having a Hallowe’en wedding means I no longer need to worry about what I’m going to wear. It will simply have to be very black and very dramatic.’
I nodded.
‘I can just see you in a gothic dress with a sinister black veil. And Mick with vampire fangs in a blood-red cloak.’
We all chuckled at the image this conjured up.
Sylvia beamed around at us.
‘We just want to share our day with our closest friends and family and have a bit of fun into the bargain. Although Mick has agreed to compromise a little. After kicking over the traces on the eve of the wedding, the reception the following day will be altogether more sedate and sophisticated. We’re having a tea dance!’
‘Ooh, I’ve never been to one of those,’
I said, smiling to myself at the thought of Rob’s two left feet. Maybe we should have a few waltzing lessons before then.
‘Does that mean you’ll be having cakes and scones with jam and cream for the wedding breakfast?’
Sylvia nodded.
‘Still to be arranged.’
‘We could make the cakes and the scones,’
I said, looking around at everyone.
‘Couldn’t we?’
‘Of course we could,’
agreed Ellie.
‘Cakes and biscuits with a Hallowe’en theme?’
‘And what about Hallowe’en cocktails for the wedding eve dinner?’
Maddy put in eagerly.
‘We could organise those as well. And what about your wedding cake? Have you thought about that?’
She grinned.
‘I’m thinking . . . black icing with an axe stuck in the top.’
Everyone chuckled.
‘So will the dress code be “spooky” for the Hallowe’en dinner?’ I asked.
‘You can absolutely let your imagination run riot.’
Sylvia shrugged.
‘Or simply a nod to “fright night” would be fine. Maybe a slinky black dress and a silvery spider brooch?’
‘Or a dress with batwing sleeves?’
joked Maddy, and everyone groaned. She grinned.
‘I guess a white sheet with holes poked in it for eyes would be a lot cheaper than buying a new outfit. Not that I’d do that, of course,’
she added hastily.
‘I mean, I’m hardly going to pass up the chance to buy a stunning new black outfit for the wedding of the year.’
‘Well, thank goodness for that.’
Sylvia smiled at Maddy, then she glanced out of the window across the green, craning her neck a little as if she was looking for someone.
‘It’ll definitely be fun to get into the spirit of things,’
I said with a smile.
‘Pun intended, of course.’
What would I wear myself? Maybe I could dress up as a witch? An attractive witch, of course. No hairy moles.
‘So who’s Celia? The woman doing the flowers?’
Ellie asked.
‘I don’t think I’ve met her, have I?’
Sylvia shook her head, and Maddy joked.
‘Ooh, maybe it’s the Celia Dearlove! The florist on that reality telly programme.’
We all laughed at that because Celia Dearlove was a proper celebrity.
‘Well, actually . . .’
Sylvia gave a little shrug.
‘It is her. I’ve known Celia and her mother for years.’
‘What?’
Maddy stared at her.
‘Crikey, I was only joking. But the actual Celia Dearlove is going to be doing the flowers at your wedding?’
‘Wow,’
I breathed in wonder.
‘Isn’t she top of the list for celebrities when they’re planning their weddings and other big, extravagant events?’
Ellie nodded eagerly.
‘I’m sure she did the flowers for the Olivia Portman–Denny Glass celebrity wedding?’
‘She did.’
Sylvia smiled.
‘I’ve known her since she was just a young girl. I lived next-door to her family for a long time, and her mother and I were best friends. We lost touch for a while and then Marian sadly died last year so I phoned Celia and we met for coffee a few months ago and talked forever. And that’s when she insisted on doing the flowers for us. She won’t take payment, which is incredibly naughty of her. She insists it will be her wedding gift to us.’
‘I saw photos of the Portman–Glass wedding in a magazine,’
I recalled.
‘It was an English country garden theme and I remember thinking the lavish floral displays were absolutely spectacular in every single shot.’
‘There’ll be no pretty florals for your Hallowe’en wedding, though,’
pointed out Maddy.
‘I’m guessing dark and spooky with splashes of bloody red will be the order of the day?’
Sylvia gave a mysterious smile. Then she glanced out of the window again and waved.
‘Here comes Celia now.’
‘I’ve never met a real live famous person before,’
said Maddy, looking awed.
‘Me, neither,’
I said, feeling suddenly ridiculously nervous at the prospect.
Celia Dearlove was to flower arranging what Vera Wang was to wedding dresses. Most people would know the name. And many would recognise her from her appearances as a judge on the popular reality TV programme in which contestants competed to create a variety of stage sets for musical shows.
I was gripped with the sudden fear that if she were to speak to me, I’d get all tongue-tied and my mind would go completely blank. But then I told myself not to be so silly.
Celia Dearlove was here to meet Sylvia, as an old friend first and also as a client.
She was royalty in her field. A real celebrity.
She would hardly be talking to me!
Our table in the café fell silent as Celia appeared in the doorway. She hesitated for a moment, looking around.
I recognised her instantly from her poised, self-assured but slightly stern persona on TV. Tallish and ultra-slender, she was wearing tailored wine-coloured trousers and a matching fitted waistcoat. A soft cream blouse with billowing sleeves and an elegant floppy bow at the neck completed her outfit and I thought she looked the age I knew she was – mid-fifties – with her dark hair in that stylish but rather severe blunt cut that swung around her neck.
But then she suddenly spotted Sylvia, who’d got up to greet her, and her whole demeanour changed.
Her face broke into a warm and even rather shy smile, and as she hurried over to Sylvia and hugged her, I thought that with her features softened and her eyes twinkling merrily as she laughed at something Sylvia was saying, Celia Dearlove could easily have passed for a woman in her early forties.
Celia