Monday 18th December
At Daisy Hill Farm: Cups and saucers
Katie and Seth’s Alpine Wedding
Seeing twelve guys in amongst the fabric rolls and dressmaker’s dummies in Sera’s studio, with their muscly arms and t-shirts, all poring over a table spread with soft tulle, needles flying, was almost worth the disaster. I admit I sneaked a couple of teensy pics. Obviously for my personal consumption only. Nothing to do with the biceps, simply because of the rarity value. And to remind me, when I look back, just how wild and unbelievable this month in St Aidan was.
Immie and I kept them well supplied with tea and cakes, then when they finished I waved them all off down the mews and locked up. It was some kind of minor feat that by the time I fell into bed at four, when I put my nose to my wrist and sniffed really hard, Rory’s scent was still there. Even if I did fall asleep breathing him in, it was still Luc I was chasing after in my dream. He was sailing off out of the harbour on a yacht, and I had to jump in and swim after him. Which was hell, because we all know how much I hate water. By the time Rory waded into my dream to haul me out onto the beach, I’d turned into a mermaid. My mind boggles every time I think of the psychological implications Immie would read into all that.
Then Poppy was back again early to steam the dress and whisk it back over to Katie at the farm. So, apart from feeling like I’d been hit over the head with a hammer due to lack of sleep, by the time Rory arrived to cook breakfast at eight, we were back to business as usual. By making a huge thing of rushing around and giving every detail of last night’s drama, I made it deliberately obvious I’d completely forgotten the bit where I ended up yanking Rory’s hair out. And I must be making more of this than he is, because he didn’t mention it at all either. Not that I gave him any space to get a word in.
Rory drops me off at the farm later as he heads off with my second-best camera to catch up with the guys, who are getting into their ski wear up at the Goose and Duck. As I walk into the rustic shell of the wedding barn, with its lofty ceiling, rough-hewn beams and whitewashed stonework I can see it’s the perfect setting for all the props that Poppy, Lily and Katie have added. The wood plank bar, with its Gluhwein signs and fairy lights could have been transplanted straight from the inside of a mountain hut. The cosy red tartan armchairs and the cuckoo clock and moose heads are all working their magic as I get out my camera. There are piles of brightly coloured rugs and carefully arranged skis, sledges and ice skates, and festive touches too. A huge tree, with pink lights and multi-coloured bows and cut-out snowflakes. There are wicker wreaths with trailing ribbons hanging from the walls. Outside on the terrace, the open braziers are already alight, radiating their warmth, as the flames roar through huge chunky logs. I know Katie and Seth had been desperately hoping for snow, but after the near miss with the dress, I think they’ll be happy enough to settle for a flurry from the snow machine.
The fact that Poppy’s putting the final touches of flowers and berries to her four-tier chocolate cake shows that Seth and Katie are standing firm with Marilyn. The fact that her cake is right beside Poppy’s shows she still hasn’t given up her fight.
I can’t help letting out an excited cry when I see the glittery shimmer of icing on Poppy’s buttercream-covered tower. ‘Awww, the white drip snow looks so amazing on top of the dark chocolate. And the red and yellow, and blue and pink flowers are so zingy. Did the ganache work out okay this time?’
Poppy nods. ‘Ganache is much easier to get right when the weather’s cold.’ She looks at Marilyn’s cake. ‘Talking of Snow Queens, Marilyn’s down in the main house with her own hair and make-up team. They’ve promised to keep her out of trouble until the groomsmen pick her up later.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll pop in and take some pictures of her getting ready.’ That’s definitely one on the lists Jules sent us. ‘I’ll see Katie and the girls first, though.’ Somehow I’m so looking forward to taking pictures of the bridesmaids in their short bright tulle skirts and angora jumpers with all the props, and the guys in their suits and ski jackets, I’ve actually forgotten to worry.
It seems like last night’s predictions for the wedding going well are spot-on. I get some great pre-wedding pictures, including a close-up of the offending blue platforms. Katie’s whisper-light white voile skirt looks truly amazing with those hand-sewn snowflake sequins nestling in the gathers. And a lot later on, capturing Katie dodging Marilyn as she pursues her around the place with the tiara and veil turns it into an iconic moment for posterity rather than the almighty showdown it might have been.
As I finally come out of the bride’s dressing room, I’m still scraping the tears away from my eyelashes after taking the pictures of Katie with her mum and her very poorly dad. As I hurry into the main part of the barn, it’s bursting with excited guests waiting for the ceremony. They’re mostly dressed in bright woolly hats and jumpers, all sitting on hay bales, and it couldn’t be any more vibrant or photogenic. As Marilyn reappears along with her groomsmen guard, she pauses to take in the full glory of the decorations. She falters for a moment, then makes a beeline for Rory.
If the floral dressing gown she was wearing earlier made me think of the Chelsea Flower Show, the suit she’s changed into is like a burst of Kew Gardens on a summer’s day. All topped off with a fascinator the size of a flying saucer. She sweeps Rory into a huge embrace, then her lips collide with his face. After an extra-long head pat she pulls away, leaving a slick of orange lipstick that stretches from his chin to his ear. From across the barn, I try to catch his eye as he takes her to her seat – a proper mum-of-the-groom chair that’s like a throne beside the straw bales. I’m still pointing to my face as Kip appears, which has to be a sign that Katie is coming any moment. So I dash into position to get the ceremony shots.
Tucked in behind the selfie ski-lift seat, I’m perfectly placed to catch the bridesmaids coming in, then Katie as she walks down the aisle to meet her dad, who is sitting waiting for her at the front. I can’t help smiling as the walking in music strikes up. As I Only Want to be With You bounces off the stone walls, I jump as someone nudges my elbow.
‘This one’s on your playlist too.’ It’s Rory, his low murmur rumbling in my ear.
‘Great.’ Talk about timing. I hiss up at him, ‘Why aren’t you across the other side of the barn?’
He’s grinning down at me. ‘Better views over here.’
There’s no time to tell him to shut the eff up, because there’s a burst of sapphire blue and cerise and yellow, and the bridesmaids are arriving. Then Katie’s here, smiling and crying at the same time. As she sways and dances along between the bales I can’t help noticing how cute and lovely her rosy nose is. And as she comes to a halt next to Seth and beams up at him, she gives him the briefest flash of turquoise platform from under her hem. Then they both collapse into giggles.
The ceremony is full of all the tears and laughter you would wish for. Hundreds of pictures later, Katie and Seth have read out their very cute promises – which don’t mention Marilyn at all – exchanged rings, and had their very first Mr and Mrs snog. The register is signed and then everyone’s pulling on their ski jackets, ski hats and mittens, and rushing outside to grab cocktails, under flakes from the snow machine.
Rory’s doing up his windcheater as he comes up behind me and we move out together onto the terrace. ‘Okay, Hols, all good so far. Rafe and Kip will be pulling the confetti tunnel shot together in about ten minutes. If you want to go in close, I’ll get it from further out.’ He pushes up his collar and pulls my hat out of his pocket. ‘You might need this, there’s a bit of a wind getting up. One of Seth’s friends is sending a video drone up too, to get a crowd shot from above.’
It might be the fourth time around, but as I pull on my hat I’m still twitching with the pressure to snatch this one-time-only action shot of the bride and groom being showered with confetti. Thanks to Marilyn, the list of groups we have to work through afterwards is endless. But they’re mainly a matter of crowd-handling. With every other shot after the next one, there’s a chance for a second go. Ten minutes later, my stomach’s knotting as I watch the guests being hustled into position. Then as Marilyn comes strutting through, the crowd parts. The cluster of feathery antennae on her head is so expansive it looks like it could be communicating with Houston. If it tones perfectly with the bright pink chaser lights on the terrace, it’s definitely accidental.
Then Katie and Seth burst out hand in hand, and there’s a cheer, then a blizzard of confetti petals. I’m still madly clicking my shutter when everyone begins to clap. I glance up to see they’re all looking upwards, waving and shouting. ‘Here comes the video drone!’
Above our heads there’s the buzz from the spindly machine as it hovers. Then a ripple of comments. ‘How clever is that? Wave at the spacemen. Don’t they bring aircraft down?’
Rory’s back at my shoulder. ‘Do we take pictures of the drone taking pictures, then?’ He frowns at the terrace. ‘Jeez, it’s flying low.’
I watch as a gust of wind catches it. ‘Shit, it’s heading towards us. Look out!’ I manage a squawk, but it’s too little too late. As the mini craft is swooping out of control, my shout turns to a scream. ‘Oh My God, it’s heading straight for Marilyn!’
It’s as if the feathers on her fascinator are pulling it in. It skims across above her, slicing through the quills. Then as the spines tangle in its propellers, it goes into a wobbling spiral and crashes down onto her head.
There’s a shrill shriek from Marilyn. Then a roar and everyone rushes forward to help.
Rory’s voice is low in my ear. ‘Do you believe in karma?’
Someone has to shut him up. ‘Behave, Rory.’
There’s a smile playing around his lips and his eyes are laughing. ‘Right, in that case, you carry on here, I’ll go and sort out Marilyn.’
Not that I’d always do what Rory suggests, but this once I do. Twenty minutes later, when Rory comes outside again, I’m back to taking pictures of cherries in pomegranate mimosas, and girls in shorts and neon tights sipping coconut vanilla vodka in milk bottles, through chocolate- wafer straws.
He arrives back with a small group of groomsmen and from the furrows in his forehead, the news isn’t good. ‘Marilyn needs a couple of stitches. And unfortunately I’m the only sober driver here she’s happy to go to St Aidan with. So I’ll take care of that, while the rest of the day will carry on as planned.’
‘B-b-but …’ I have a feeling my jaw’s locked in shock as the realisation sinks in. ‘You’re leaving me here on my own?’
As he stares into my eyes, he clamps his fingers around my arm. ‘I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you’re in the hands of some dedicated and very capable helpers.’ He does a flourish. ‘Meet Joel, Jim, Josh and Jack.’
‘Four of you?’ I recover enough to stammer. ‘Hi g-guys.’ First firemen, now groomsmen.
Joel’s smile is as warm as the hand he’s holding out. ‘Your wish is our command and all that stuff.’
Jack, the cheeky one, is right behind him. ‘On the upside, this might be a great chance to get the job done without any more sabotage from Marilyn.’
‘Fire away, then. Who do you want us to round up first?’ Josh and Jack are grinning and rubbing their biceps in readiness. And as Rory melts away, I think I hear him saying ‘Good luck, Holly Postman, stay nice and brave. You’re going to smash this out of the park.’