Summer at the Little Wedding Shop: The hottest new release of summer 2017 - perfect for the beach!. Jane Linfoot

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СКАЧАТЬ For now. For a down-to-earth girl. That’s Chas playing safe this time around. According to village legend, his ex-fiancée, who dumped him just before their wedding was so super-fussy she swapped the ring he bought her four times.

      ‘It’s a shame their proposal was mostly beeped out,’ I say. Apparently when Chas dropped down the fireman’s pole, ring box in hand, Immie was so stunned, all she came out with was a stream of expletives. ‘I wasn’t taking much in after the shock of my mum, but I’d still have liked to hear it.’

      ‘Have you spoken to your mum yet, Lily?’ Five cocktails in, yet Jess is straight on my case.

      I search for my happy voice, but don’t find it. ‘Only for a few seconds. They were out celebrating at The Harbourside Hotel.’

      Jess is straight back at me. ‘Gooseberry time. You’d better stay at mine tonight.’

      It’s an order not an invitation, although knowing how Jess likes to party, it’ll most likely be morning by the time we get in.

      ‘When I finish this Kiss On The Lips, I’d better go and talk to Rafe.’ Poppy raises her fruit filled glass, and sends him a wave as she catches his eye. He’s the tallest guy in the group of hunky farmers chatting together at the bar, and he rocks the ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ cliché with every inch. Although it’s Poppy who made him that way. Before he met her, he was grumpy and plain. Which just goes to show what love can do to you.

      ‘These Chocolate Cherry Cha Chas are giving me a warm fuzzy feeling.’ I say, as I sink my teeth into my umpteenth wedding cupcake of the night. Poppy’s finest, with swirls of pink buttercream, and a smattering of sugar hearts. I’m trying not to think of my mum as I take out the decorative ‘I do’ cards on sticks. It’s not as if it even matters if I grow out of my suit trousers, given I won’t actually have a job for much longer.

      I sigh as I brush the cake crumbs off my boob shelf, then remember to smile. ‘It’s a change to come to a wedding party in a pub, rather than somewhere bigger.’ The Sams just bought their first house, so she made her own dress, the ceremony was just for the family, and the evening guest list was for meaningful friends only. But given Brides by the Sea couldn’t work without her, Jess has pulled in favours from all sides too.

      Poppy’s eyes widen in alarm at what I meant to be a throwaway comment. ‘Don’t say simple weddings are a new trend. Expanding the business at Daisy Hill Farm is literally scaring the G-string off me.’

      Ooops. Talk about sticking my foot in it. Last summer the weddings at Daisy Hill Farm were mostly in marquees and tipis in the fields, but Rafe and Poppy are busy upgrading the buildings, so they can have weddings there all year round.

      Jess jumps straight in to smooth things over. ‘Don’t worry, everyone loves a country wedding.’

      I nod at Poppy. ‘Most couples want a big day to remember.’ Although what I remember about Thom and me getting married is mainly the arguing.

      Poppy gives a shudder. ‘I just hope we can pull in enough bookings to make it pay.’

      It’s obvious the next bit’s going to be weighty, because Jess puts down her drink. ‘You have to be brave to move forward, Poppy.’ Her voice is grave as she sits back in her seat, and rests her hands on the carved oak arms. ‘Courage is being scared to death, and saddling up anyway.’

      ‘Sorry?’ That’s a bit profound for this time of night. Poppy and I squint at each other. We might live in the country, but neither of us rides.

      A low voice comes from behind me. ‘John Wayne said it. He was talking about metaphorical horses.’ It’s Rafe.

      Poppy and I nod furiously. ‘We got the pony part.’ I can sense the teasing in Rafe’s eyes without even looking over my shoulder. Not that I’m comparing, but Thom never twinkled like that.

      Rafe carries on. ‘Being scared is okay, especially if it means you’re pushing yourself. Wouldn’t you say, Poppy?’

      Poppy’s face crumples as she deliberates.

      ‘My point exactly.’ Jess nods.

      ‘And we’ll all be here to help you make the business a success.’ I rush in, remembering too late that I actually won’t be.

      Poppy’s grin is sheepish. ‘Okay, my wobble’s over. I’ll man up.’

      ‘Good to hear.’ Rafe reaches across to give her a fake punch on the arm. ‘And by the way Lily, Fred by the bar says “Hi”. He’s the Ryan Gosling look-alikey, waving like his arm’s about to drop off. And he thinks it might be love at first sight.’

      As we all screw our heads around, we take in a guy with broad shoulders and a beam the width of St Aidan Bay, doing the kind of wave he’d do if he’d been shipwrecked without a distress flare.

      ‘Cool.’ Poppy sounds delighted. ‘Fred’s lovely, he’s helping with Rafe’s barn conversion. He split up with his long-term girlfriend last year, so I’d say he’s over the heartbreak, and ready to go. Funny, kind, exceptionally solvent, likes country pursuits and nice restaurants.’ She sends me a playful wink. ‘For anyone interested, that is. Not necessarily meaning you, Lily.’

      I’m gawping at how much background detail she’s crammed in there. ‘Thanks, but I’m all good here, Poppy.’ I grin vaguely in the direction of the bar without actually making eye contact. ‘But please say “Hi” back.’

      ‘Will do,’ Rafe nods at me. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but Poppy did promise to teach me to dance tonight.’ He holds out a hand to her.

      Poppy sighs, then begins to wiggle out from behind the table. ‘Rafe dancing? Now that is a scary thought.’ A second later his arm slides around her waist.

      They’re about to wander off when the best man jumps up on a chair, rattling a spoon against a pint glass. As Poppy and Rafe stop, Jess and I sit up expectantly, to listen.

      ‘Okay, ladies. It’s bouquet throwing time.’

      Jess and I slump back again, and she points at my glass. ‘That’s us off the hook. Time for another cocktail?’

      The best man goes on. ‘Sam wants every lady out in the garden, regardless of status. Single, married, divorced, you’ve all got to come.’ There’s an undertow of surprised mumbling as the women head for the door.

      ‘That’s a new one on me.’ I tug on my jacket, and wince as I stuff my appalled toes back into my shoes. ‘Looking at all the stilettos, it’s probably just the landlord trying a fast fix to get his grass aerated.’

      Jess looks at me as she slips on her coat. ‘Remember the first ever bridesmaid’s bouquet you made for me at the shop?’ Jess isn’t big on nostalgia, but she often goes back to this one.

      As if I could forget. I was so nervous, I was shaking too hard to cut the stems. And I wanted it to be perfect. I grin at her, the same way I do every time she hauls out this story. ‘A white and yellow posy. With freesias and daisies, and trailing ribbons. Took me four hours to make.’ I was bursting with excitement when I finished it.

      She’s shaking her head, laughing. ‘The look on your face, when I told you we needed five more the same.’

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