Chapter Twenty-Four
‘So, you’ll definitely be okay?’ I asked Ella, chewing my lip.
We were home, but I needed to head off again. There was a wedding to photograph. However, my stomach was flipping with anxiety.
‘Yes!’ my daughter sighed. ‘Why would I not be?’
‘Because you’ve never looked after a dog before,’ I fretted.
‘Neither have you,’ she pointed out.
‘Fair,’ I acknowledged. ‘However, I’ve had a day’s head start over you.’ Sometimes point scoring was appropriate.
‘Listen,’ said Ella. She adopted her I’m a very patient person expression. The one that equally conveyed I’m also talking to an imbecile. ‘I will let Bess out every couple of hours. We’ll play with Mr Squeaky Squirrel. I won’t let her climb on the furniture, and I won’t share my crisps with her. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds okay,’ I said reluctantly. ‘And don’t forget she has her dinner at five o’clock.’
‘I won’t,’ Ella promised. ‘And I’ll make sure she has a nice cup of Horlicks if you’re not back in time to read her bedtime story.’
‘You’re so funny,’ I said, giving her an eyeroll.
‘Go, Mother.’ Ella made shooing gestures with her hands.
‘Right,’ I said, picking up my bag of camera equipment. ‘Any problems, any problems at all–’
‘Rest assured that I will ring 999 and request an ambulance.’
I rolled my eyes again.
‘I’m going.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ said my daughter firmly.
Minutes later, I’d left Little Waterlow and was on the motorway, heading towards the wedding venue.
Goldhill Grange was a beautiful country hotel set in fifteen acres of manicured grounds. I’d covered bridal events at this location before, but they’d always been winter affairs. I was looking forward to overseeing this wedding without concerns over fading light or, even worse, frightful weather.
My client, a young woman by the name of Theresa, had booked me almost a year ago. It was impossible to recall every one of my brides’ personal details, so I always made notes to later refer to.
Today, my info sheet reminded me that Theresa’s wedding was a small affair. There had been a family bereavement not long after Theresa’s engagement. The young woman had confided that she couldn’t face a wedding with pomp and ceremony. It wouldn’t have been the same without her mum being there. Consequently, Theresa had swapped the church for a hotel and scaled down the invitations. There would only be immediate family at the ceremony followed by a small and intimate wedding breakfast. Afterwards, the bride and groom would depart to Heathrow, and a Bali honeymoon. No frills and fuss-free.
I arrived in plenty of time and busied myself taking shots of the hotel, the grounds, and then the empty ceremony room. The latter was decked out with beautiful blooms. Order of Service sheets had been placed upon beribboned chairs. Petals covered the short, carpeted walkway that led up to a small platform. It was here that the couple would stand and say their vows.
I then went into the hotel’s orangery. This was where the wedding breakfast would take place. A large table was covered in crisp white linen, ornate candelabra, polished silver cutlery and crystal glassware. Centrepiece was an elaborate flower arrangement. I moved in, snapping pics of the blooms, zooming in on the named place settings, also the individual menus which were beautifully handwritten in italic script.
Nipping about, I captured an air of expectancy, then hastened outside again.
The groom arrived minutes later. Tobias Green was tall and fair. He was also incredibly nervous and steadily turning the same colour as his surname.
‘Try and relax,’ I encouraged. ‘The day will flash by. I promise that you’ll later look back at this moment and wish you could do it all over again without nerves getting the better of you.’
‘R-Really?’ he stuttered. ‘I keep worrying that I might forget my lines. Or get a frog in my throat and have a coughing fit.’
‘So what if you do?’ I shrugged. ‘It won’t stop you marrying the girl of your dreams.’
‘I guess not,’ he said, brightening a tad.
‘That’s better,’ I smiled. ‘Now then, let’s have a few shots of you over here by the fountain. That’s it. Relax. Wonderful. And again, this time with your best man. Shake hands. And hold that pose. Perfect.’
I scampered about, clicking away, adding the proud parents into the small group. Mum then asked if she could haveone of just me and my boy. I could almost see the umbilical cord joining her and Tobias. I wondered how Theresa would get along with her future mother-in-law. Whether there would ever be a power struggle between them. I’d heard of that happening many a time when the bridegroom was Mummy’s boy.
Due to the family’s circumstances, there were no bridesmaids to photograph. Not even a Maid of Honour.
Tobias stuttered that Theresa had given him strict instructions; when the wedding car arrived, he was not to greet her. Instead, he was to be in the ceremony room. He was also to watch his future wife walk down the aisle – preferably looking ecstatic, and not like someone about to upchuck.
‘Excellent,’ I murmured. ‘So, make sure you do that.’
‘Do what?’ he asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
‘The former, not the latter,’ I bantered.
‘O-Oh, right. Y-Yes,’ he stuttered. ‘I’d better go in. Stand on the spot marked X,’ he joked weakly.
Dear Lord, this boy’s nerves were at breaking point. I hoped the bride wasn’t in a similar state.
‘C’mon, Tobes,’ said the best man gently. ‘If you’re feeling faint, lean on me.’
‘Give him a drink of water,’ I said sharply. I was deadly serious too.
I’d once covered a wedding where the bride, overcome by nerves, had swooned prettily at the altar. Not so attractive was her broken nose after faceplanting down on the altar step.
Other guests were now arriving in quick succession. I stood to one side. Watching. Observing. Taking discreet photographs. Catching the moment two women air-kissed on account of their huge hats colliding. Snapping a rotund gentleman’s delight at a relative not previously seen for years. Capturing a blonde’s concern as she checked her handbag for confetti. It was all there.
Eventually, everybody went inside. I paused. Took a few breaths. A bee buzzed over some nearby marigolds. I was reminded of yesterday when Bess had watched the butterfly in the garden.
For a moment I dithered about giving Ella a quick ring. Just to make sure all was well. But the brief window of opportunity disappeared. A beribboned car had come into view. The vehicle, complete with chauffeur, was purring towards me. It slowly made its way along the single-track gravel road. The bride had arrived.
I began clicking away. The vehicle rolled to a standstill and the chauffeur got out. As he went to open the rear door, I moved in ready to capture Theresa exiting. But as the door opened, the breath whooshed out of me.
For sitting next to the blushing bride, was Dylan.