The Cosy Christmas Teashop: Cakes, castles and wedding bells – the perfect feel good romance. Caroline Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ always unpredictable, Malcom and Derek – enough said. At least Lauren was in control of the action now, and a certain ex-jockey racing stable owner, apparently, which had put Ellie’s mind more at ease. She still hadn’t seen the final plan in action herself, but was assured it would be a hit with the bride.

      Ooh look, there was something happening away in the distance. A rattle of carriage wheels maybe? Ellie wasn’t sure whether to be excited or distraught.

      There was a small procession coming down the tree-lined driveway. Leading the way was a rather magnificent white horse, and as it neared, Ellie could see it had a very impressive horned head – certainly not the same papier-mache article that Malcolm had created. Leading the horse was a rather handsome chap that Ellie had once met in the village stores – ah, so that was Anthony from the racing stables then. He was in full riding attire, tight beige jodhpurs, smart navy velvet riding jacket, over a crisp, white shirt, and stylish cravat. In fact, he looked rather like a character out of a Jilly Cooper novel – wow. He flashed Ellie a broad smile as they approached the castle steps.

      A small gathering had followed them along the driveway, including Derek and Malcolm who were walking beside a rather quaint wooden carriage, and guess who was pulling it – Patrick the Pony. Lauren, was masterfully driving the little carriage, holding the reins confidently, with a unicorn-horn free Patrick, who at this point anyhow, seemed to be behaving himself.

      ‘Good morning,’ greeted Anthony in a lovely, warm Irish accent. If that voice, on top of the white-stallion unicorn and the Colin Firth-style riding breeches, didn’t have the bride as putty in his hands, Ellie wasn’t sure what would. She began to relax, just a little.

      ‘Morning. Thank you so much for helping out at late notice. Right then, I’ll just go and fetch the bride.’ And off she dashed, feeling a little like Cinderella herself.

      Across the courtyard she scampered, and up the stone stairwell to the second-floor suite of rooms that the bride and her bridesmaids were now in. She knocked, with her fingers on the other hand crossed behind her back. Here goes.

      ‘Who is it?’ came a bark from the far side of the door.

      ‘Just Ellie, we’re ready when you are Br …’ Ooh, she nearly let it slip, ‘Chelsea.’ She opened the door to be greeted by hair tongs and straighteners, nail varnish bottles open at precarious angles on the furniture, handbags, jewellery, discarded underwear, empty bottles of prosecco, half-filled flutes, bouquets in rainbow-coloured hues, a heavy scent of ladies perfume, and twelve very glamorous, if slightly (she was being kind) over-the-top, ladies, plus a ragged-looking hairdresser.

      Chelsea was stood in the middle of all this in her silk and taffeta dress, which seemed to take up the whole room by itself.

      ‘Just need my tiara fixed on. Amy, are you ready with it? I need it now,’ she shrieked across the room. The poor hairdresser flitted to her side, though it was hard to reach the bride’s head now with the meringue-gown creation in full expanse. Two bridesmaids and Bridezilla’s mother had to hold it down like it was some kind of caged animal, to let the hairdresser get to Chelsea and secure the tiara with its short, very sparkly train in place. The bride’s platinum blonde curls had been corkscrewed and then partly pinned-up in a sweeping mid-section on the top of her head. Ellie noted that her make-up was extremely heavy, in a trowelled-on shade of orange – if it rained out there now, they were in big trouble.

      ‘Have you got your something blue on, Chels?’ one of the bridesmaids asked.

      Bridezilla flashed a lacy blue garter in response.

      ‘Oh, and don’t forget your clutch bag and bouquet.’

      ‘Got it. Are you all ready, my girls? I need you on the steps to see me off, and then you have to wait there while I do the tour. I hope that unicorn’s ready?’ She flashed Ellie a don’t-you-dare-get-anything-else-wrong-here stare.

      Ellie felt her stomach shudder, but held her nerve. ‘Of course. It looks stunning. Just perfect.’

      ‘Good.’

      Ellie and the maid of honour lifted the expanse of skirt to help Bridezilla get out of the room and down the stairs, whilst she was muttering, ‘Should have got this staircase widened, knowing there were going to be brides in their wedding dresses coming down here.’

      Oh yes, knock down a thirteenth-century stairwell to accommodate a multi-meringue layered dress. Good idea. Ellie bit her tongue.

      There was a clatter of stilettos on stone, it sounded like they were storming the castle, as they trooped carefully down and out across the courtyard. Joe was under strict instructions, keeping a careful eye on the drawing room holding area where the other guests were being plied with champagne, to make sure that neither the groom nor any of the other guests ventured out and caught sight of them. Derek was also acting as sentinel on the doors out to the courtyard.

      Anthony, and the white-stallion unicorn (well, it was a gelding but no one was going to say anything!) were waiting patiently at the bottom of the steps. By some miracle Patrick, Lauren and the cart, were positioned in the right place just behind them – after doing two loops round the block to keep the restless pony happy.

      ‘Oooh.’ Bridezilla seemed quite overwhelmed. Ellie prayed this was in a positive way, but couldn’t be quite sure.

      ‘So, do I ride this gorgeous creature?’ Bridezilla looked teasingly across at Anthony.

      ‘If only,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But, my lovely lady, a riding hat would be essential, and that would so spoil your beautiful hairdo. So, your carriage awaits.’

      God, he was a charmer. Ellie held back a wry grin.

      He gestured to Patrick and his cart. Since Ellie had nipped upstairs, the carriage had had a quick makeover and been gorgeously decorated by Wendy, with floral twists of pink and orange roses, sprigs of delicate white gypsophila and greenery. There was a rainbow-coloured throw in place on the seat, and Patrick himself now sported a pink rose on his head collar, which thankfully he hadn’t seemed to have noticed.

      Was this going to be the moment Bridezilla flipped? There seemed to be a universal holding of breath.

      ‘Oh, how lovely, and isn’t the donkey sweet.’

      Thank goodness Patrick didn’t speak human, or he might have flipped – donkey indeed.

      Anthony handed the lead rein of the white horse across to Malcolm, whilst he gestured for the bride to take his arm, ushered her to the carriage, and yes actually made a step out of his two hands, fingers locked together, for her to climb up to the seat. Bridezilla had a stunned and rather mesmerized look on her face, as she gazed back down at him. Ellie hoped she wasn’t now regretting her choice of groom.

      The official photographer was snapping away in a photo frenzy.

      ‘And so, let the wonders of the day begin!’ Anthony announced.

      The bridesmaids cheered from the castle steps as he took up the lead rein of the unicorn-stallion who began to walk steadily beside him ready for their village tour, Patrick plodding dutifully behind. Perhaps he was in awe of the unicorn too! What a marvellous pair they both made.

      And, Ellie spotted, as the carriage set off, Bridezilla was grinning from ear to ear. Ellie nearly jumped up and made a huge air punch, but reined it in. Result! Thank you, Lauren, and СКАЧАТЬ