already told her that.’ Molly settled back in the bath. ‘Married,’ she murmured after a few seconds. ‘It sounds such a big thing for Jess to be doing.’
Nick peered at her. ‘Before you say anything we’re not getting married, all right? So don’t ask.’
‘Oh, spoilsport,’ Molly teased. ‘I was thinking we could maybe have a double wedding. Me and you, Jessica and Max.’
‘I can’t see Jess wearing that one, can you?’
Molly laughed. ‘No, me neither, although all my friends think it’s high time you made a respectable woman of me.’
‘It’d take a lot more than getting married,’ Nick said. ‘And besides I like what we’ve got. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, is what I say.’
‘They want to buy hats.’
‘Uh-huh, and now that Jess is getting married they’ll have their chance.’
‘You’re all heart,’ said Molly. She took another sip of wine and slipped back amongst the bubbles.
‘So what are you thinking now?’
‘Here’s to marriage.’
Nick winced and topped up his glass. ‘Here’s to spending the rest of my life living in sin with you.’
Molly lifted her eyebrows. He grinned and so Molly relented. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll drink to that,’ she conceded, lifting her glass. ‘Although if we are ever going to get married can we do it before I look like ET in the wedding photos?’
It was Nick’s turn to lift his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to speak but Molly cut him short. ‘Don’t you dare say it,’ she said.
Nick, still grinning, sunk down beneath the water like a great hairy whale.
Meanwhile in the sitting room of Jess’s cottage, Max was finishing off the last of the Singapore noodles and nodding as Jess came to the end of the edited highlights of eight solid hours of planning and a lifetime’s worth of imagining what her wedding day might be like.
‘So, what do you think?’ she said breathlessly. ‘Assuming we pass on the radio station’s offer of following us around every step of the way, and my dad arm-wrestling everyone for discount.’
‘What’s Vanguard Hall like?’
Jess smiled. ‘Absolutely lovely. Really quirky and magical. Me and mum have been there loads of times to look round the gardens. It would be perfect – you’ll love it.’
Max tipped his head, suggesting to Jess that he wanted to hear more.
‘It’s near Holt and the estate is owned by a guy called Bert, who’s part eco-warrior and part crusty old aristo. There’s the farm, which is huge, and then the main house, which is this weird Gothic pile with all sorts of odds and ends tacked on, and they’ve got greenhouses, a fantastic walled garden – the farm is organic – and there’s this amazing old Tythe Barn which Bert says we can have for the reception. They use it as a tearoom in the summer – it’s got this spectacular beamed roof. The whole place is like something off a picture postcard. Jack’s worked there as a gardener since he left horticultural college. He’s got this tiny little cottage in the grounds that looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel.
And they’ve got the most fabulous gardens designed by Bertie’s wife Freya, a bluebell wood, a lake and loads of deer and they’ve got sculptures in the woods that Freya and her friends made – they are amazing, magical. Bert opens it up to the public two or three weekends a year for charity. It will make the most perfect place for a winter wedding. Trust me, you’ll love it. And we need to get moving. I’ve got a list.’ Jess leaned over the side of the sofa and pulled out a notebook. ‘We haven’t got that long to sort it all out.’
Max pulled a face. ‘I’m not really sure about all this dippy-hippy business.’
Jess stared at him and laughed. ‘What dippy-hippy business?’
‘Well, the whole Tythe Barn, bluebell wood, humanist wedding thing. I thought we’d just have a proper traditional church wedding.’
‘Max, you’re divorced and I’m an atheist.’
Max looked perplexed. ‘And?’
‘And so the best we could probably hope for is a church blessing and I’m not sure how likely that is when I tell the vicar I don’t believe in God.’
‘You could always lie.’
Jess stared at him, trying to work out whether or not he was joking.
‘I mean, what would it matter?’ Max continued. ‘Surely not everyone who has a church wedding is a regular churchgoer or a devout Christian? And in your case God can’t write it all down in a big book and use it against you later, because you don’t believe in him.’
‘And you do?’ snapped Jess.
‘Well no, not really, I believe in something, but my parents –’ he began.
‘I am not lying on our wedding day. And at a humanist wedding we would still have vows and make promises and we can choose readings and music – it’s just more personal. We help to write them.’
Max looked even more sceptical.
‘All right, how about we just go for a straight registry office do?’
Max shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, do you? And I also think we ought to think very carefully before we decide against the idea of getting the radio station involved.’
Jess laughed. ‘Tell me you’re joking. You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘I’m just saying maybe we ought to look into it. And it would be fun, don’t you think? It could work in our favour.’
Jess waited to hear just how Max thought that might work out.
‘Maybe you should talk to your mum about it,’ he said, scraping the final nest of noodles into his mouth. ‘The same with the chance of discount. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?’
Jess shook her head. ‘What about your parents? I thought they were raving traditionalists – wouldn’t they hate all that kind of thing?’
Max looked hurt. ‘Just because they’re old-fashioned doesn’t mean they’re not broad-minded.’
Jess sighed. ‘They’ll need to be if they’re working with Mum’s lot.’
The following weekend Jonathon was sitting at Molly’s dining table, having eaten a huge Sunday lunch, waxing lyrical about the virtues of media sponsorship and the free market economy.
‘I think that making a radio feature
