Chapter Twenty Four
Lucy is much too upset to come with me, so I tuck her up in a crochet blanket on the sofa with a cup of tea and a family-size bar of fruit and nut, promising I’ll be back within the hour.
Sprinting in sandals is no easy feat, but there’s no time to spare, none whatsoever.
I’m panting and damp under the arms when I reach The Pheasant’s Nest, and despite the fact I ran all this way, I still pause and dither when I walk up to the doors.
What if Barry isn’t in today and I have to speak to Finn?
How can I ask him for a favour when I was so awful to him?
With a somewhat calming breath, I step forward and push open the heavy oak double doors. I have to do this, for Lucy - no matter how painful and hard it might be for me, I’ve got to try.
Worst luck, I see no Barry in sight, just Dot tending bar and Finn placing newly printed menus on each table. He glances at the door as it opens and lets in a gentle breeze, but swiftly sets his eyes back on the forest green menus.
‘Hi.’ I clear my throat and gingerly come closer. ‘Is … is Barry around?’
‘Nope, he just popped to the bank.’ Finn says flatly, not bothering to look up from his task. ‘Sorry, you’ve only got me.’
‘Well, something terrible has happened.’ I dare to come nearer, my fist clenched doggedly at my sides. ‘Thistlewick Manor has had a leak and the reception room for the wedding is an utter wreck.’
That at least tears Finn’s attention away from his menus. ‘Oh man. Are Alex and Lucy alright?’
‘Lucy’s in bits, she hadn’t even told Alex the news when I left her. Anyway, I wondered if - if maybe -’
‘If maybe they could host the reception here?’ Finn rests a hand on his hip, his expression unreadable.
‘Well, yes.’
‘When’s the wedding again?’
My eyes dart to my feet, the ceiling, anywhere but straight into Finn’s. ‘Saturday. This one.’
Incredulous, he scoffs, shaking his head as he strides across the floor, replacing another table’s menu. ‘God, you’ve got your head firmly planted in the clouds, Alicia, you know that?’
‘Look, I know you’re cross with me, but can’t we just put our differences aside for the sake of Lucy and Alex?’ I follow him, refusing to give in. ‘I promise I’ll let you tear into me after the wedding.’
Finn’s taut shoulders unwind slightly and he glances over one, the whisper of a smirk dancing across his lips. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘So,’ my voice pitches with hope. ‘Will you let them have it here?’
‘It’s not that simple, Leesh. Do you know how much work it would take to get this place wedding-ready, even if I had more than two days? For that kind of turnaround, we’d have to close the pub early on Friday just to give me enough time.’
‘I’ll help you,’ I vow. ‘I’ll even help out on the day.’
‘Then there’s the food, I mean, won’t the guests be expecting some fancy fare?’
‘Alex and Lucy have booked a caterer, it’ll just be a matter of informing the company of the venue change.’
Finn looks around the small bar room and sighs. ‘It’s not exactly a bride’s dream venue, is it?’
‘We can make it look beautiful, I just know we can.’
‘Barry won’t like it.’
‘You can get around him, surely?’ I cajole, the atmosphere between us beginning to feel a lot more breathable, like it was before I made things ugly. ‘And if you can’t, well, I’ll help with that, too.’
‘Alright. But it’s a cash bar, and we’d better make back what we would have taken on a regular Saturday.’
All stern and serious, he raises his head high, but I can see right through the act.
Even if he didn’t make a penny on Saturday, there’s no way he wouldn’t help out poor Luce and Alex - that kind, community-minded streak is much too embedded in his nature.
Try as he might, Finn Morton can’t conceal that soft heart of his; it’s one of the things I’ve grown most fond of.
‘You’ll make it back and more, people love getting drunk at weddings,’ I assure him.
‘Let’s hope you’re right.’ He turns on his heel to address Dot, who is practically hanging over the bar, obviously eavesdropping as if her life depends upon it. ‘Looks like we’ve got a wedding to plan, Dot!’
After thanking him and promising to help get Barry on board, I make my exit, eager to tell Lucy the good news.
Looking back over my shoulder, I step into the street to take the whole pub in, trying to picture it all trussed up for a wedding.
The first bubble of anxiety rises from my gut, lodging in my throat and making it difficult to swallow.
It’s a lovely little building for sure, with its creeping ivy covering the pale brick and its classic, Victorian-style bubble windows, but Finn’s right - it’s not quite what a bride might envision for her special day.
Still, with a bit of polishing, I’m certain we can make The Pheasant’s Nest shine.
Now it’s just a matter of convincing the bride-to-be.
Though she must have heard me come in, Lucy still jumps when I enter the living room, sending the empty chocolate bar wrapper fluttering to the carpet. Eyes wide and wet, she stares in fearful expectation, fists twisting the blanket.
‘Right sooo … I found us a new venue.’
She doesn’t even let me finish before leaping off the couch and throwing her arms around my waist, squeezing me so tight, I swear I just went down two dress sizes.
‘Oh Leesh, oh Leesh, thank you!’
‘Hang on a second,’ I gasp for air, prising her vice-like grip from my middle. ‘It’s The Pheasant’s Nest, I’m sorry, but it was the only place I could think of. But Finn and I are going to make it look so wonderful for you, Luce, I promise-’
‘It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad we won’t have to cancel.
’ She releases a long, shivery exhale, one it seems she’s been holding in since I left.
‘I’m going to call Alex, he was really stressed out when I told him about the manor.
Then I guess I’d better start calling all the guests and vendors to tell them the address of the new venue. ’
‘I’ll do that,’ I tell her, stooping to pick the chocolate wrapper and blanket from the floor. ‘You focus on Alex.’
It takes the better part of two hours (mostly because dear old Auntie Preston, bless her, fancied a twenty-five-minute chat), but I make my way through the guest list, meticulously crossing out each name to ensure I’ve not missed anyone.
Most of them were fine with the last-minute change - a little shocked, perhaps, but the distance between the pub and the original venue is minimal, so it makes little to no difference to their travel time.
A handful of guests, however, weren’t so keen, one being Auntie Jen. Now, who didn’t see that coming?
‘A pub?’ I swear, I can hear her nose wrinkling over the phone. ‘A public house? Oh dear, it’s not going to be a classy affair then, is it? I didn’t think much of that dusty old manor house Lucy dragged us to, but at least it had some character.’
Gritting my teeth, I strive to play nice, though I’d like nothing more than to tell her not to bother coming and hang up on the wretched woman.
‘The Pheasant’s Nest has heaps of character, you’ll see. It’s going to be a fabulous day.’
‘Hm, we’ll see. Well, Uncle Hugh and I will be there.’
And she puts the phone down, without so much as a thank you for the heads up.
I’m kind of beginning to wish I hadn’t told her at all, so that she’d turned up to the flooded venue in her glad rags.
Once everyone has been informed, I head to the kitchen and fill the kettle, ready to enjoy a much-deserved cup of tea.
Poor Lucy, I reckon she’ll need one too after the huge bombshell that dropped on her today.
As the kettle boils, I lean against the counter, toying with the handle of the striped mug I’ve claimed as mine.
The pressure is on now - I’ve promised not just Lucy but all her guests an incredible day, and while I’ve no doubt the ceremony in the cute little village church will live up to expectations, it’s my responsibility to ensure the new reception venue doesn’t let the side down.
This is the most important, crucial maid of honour task yet … and I’m not entirely sure I can make it happen. Still, I don’t let on my fears to Lucy, I simply hand her mug over and snuggle up next to her on the sofa, switching on Bridesmaids to cheer her up.
‘Do you really think everything will be okay?’
Oh God, I really wish she hadn’t asked me that.
The truth is, I don’t know how this is all going to turn out - I mean, The Pheasant’s Nest has to remain open until closing time tomorrow and can only shut an hour early on Friday, is one and a half evenings enough time to work my magic?
Can Finn and I recreate Lucy’s rustic dream wedding in such a tiny, ordinary pub? I’ve certainly got my doubts.
I hate lying to Lucy, but I can’t make her aware of my misgivings either, not when she’s already feeling so fraught and frightened. Plastering on my biggest, most genuine-looking smile, I give her a firm nod.
‘Of course I do. It’s going to be amazing , Luce. Just you wait.’