Presumably you’ve already told your mother?’
‘Yes, I rang her a little while ago,’ said Jess, enunciating every syllable in case he missed some important detail, her finger wedged in her other ear so that she could concentrate on his voice. Max was watching her from the armchair pulled up at the other side of the hearth.
Her father sounded as if he were a million miles away.
‘How’s the holiday going?’ she asked.
‘Fine. I’ve had Delhi belly and Marnie has come out in some sort of a rash – we’re having a lovely time,’ he said, without a hint of irony.
‘So where are you?’
Jess heard him turn away from the phone and say, ‘Where are we again?’
Her father, Jonathon, had an innate distrust of all things foreign and when Jess and Jack were small had refused to take them anywhere abroad for holidays and only begrudgingly travelled there for business – there being anywhere other than Britain.
After her parents had split up and Jonathon had married Marnie they had come to a compromise, based on the two of them taking frequent cruises, which Jess suspected was acceptable only because her father felt that cruising wasn’t so much travelling as moving a little piece of England closer to all those countries Marnie was so keen for him to see.
‘We’re somewhere in…’ He hesitated as if waiting for a prompt. ‘Croatia.’ He made it sound like the outer reaches of the Horsehead Nebula. ‘We went to see some thing this morning and I think Marnie’s planning to go and see more things tomorrow. But anyway, never mind me. You and Max – it is Max, isn’t it? Well done, I’m really pleased. We’re really pleased. Obviously we’ll need to talk about the arrangements for the wedding and what your plans are when I get back. I want to see the cut of his jib and all that – make sure his intentions towards my little girl are honourable.’
Jess winced at her father’s idea of a joke.
‘So, have the pair of you set a date yet?’
‘We were thinking maybe Christmas – well, December anyway.’
‘Ah, right. December? So not that far away then. Have to get your skates on with the planning. You say you’ve spoken to your mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘Not much but I’m sure we can sort it out between us.’ Jess put her hand over the receiver. ‘Do you want to talk to him?’ she mouthed to Max.
Max shook his head. Meanwhile her father was saying, ‘I’m sure you’re right, Puss, and your mother has always been good at that kind of thing. Okay, well, look, why don’t the two of you come over as soon as we get back home? Not quite sure when that is – I’ll ring you. Lost all track of time, you know how it is with holidays.’
Jess smiled as they said their goodbyes; what her dad meant was that he didn’t know when they were due home because Marnie had made all the arrangements.
‘Are you going to ring your mum and dad now?’ she asked, waggling the phone in Max’s direction after she had rung off.
He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I was thinking that maybe we should go back to bed. I could light the fire in the bedroom. What do you think?’
Jess smiled. You didn’t need to be much of a mind-reader to work out what he meant. ‘Or we could just huddle together for the warmth,’ she said, all innocence.
‘Sounds like a plan, be terrible to freeze to death in the middle of the summer, wouldn’t it?’ Max purred as he kissed her, which made her heart do that funny, fluttery, skip-a-beat, horny thing.
‘Are you going to ring your mum and dad later?’ asked Jess, as Max took her by the hand and led her up the steep, winding stairs.
‘I was thinking that maybe we ought to go round and tell them. They’re a bit old-fashioned about that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, okay,’ said Jess as he started nibbling at her neck and unbuttoned her shirt. ‘What sort of thing?’ she started to ask, but the words got lost as he kissed her harder and pulled her down into a great billow of duvet, bolsters and pillows.
‘Flowers, food, frocks, cars, dresses – balloons, doves. My sister had doves.’
‘Yes, all right, thank you,’ said Molly to Phil, who was busy counting off what you needed for the perfect twenty-first-century wedding. ‘Why don’t you go and make us some tea?’
They were back in the offices of EAA FM and Molly, who was sitting at her desk waiting to go in to their regular strategy meeting with their manager, had been Googling weddings. The good news was that there were hundreds of thousands of websites, offering every kind of service and paraphernalia imaginable – dozens of books, CDs and DVDs and lord only knew what else online, as well as innumerable sources of advice to help her help Jess in the quest for the perfect occasion.
There were Wild West-themed weddings, weddings with Liberace lookalikes, weddings in caves by candlelight. Molly’s main problem was, having spent most of her working life looking for weird and wonderful things to attract her listeners, she found it impossible not to be drawn towards the bizarre. What couple in their right mind wanted to be married underwater or, come to that, while bungee jumping? As she scrolled through the pages Molly hoped Jess had something a little less strenuous in mind.
Nina Holman, the station’s senior office administrator, stood behind her, peering over Molly’s shoulder.
‘So if that’s the good news, what’s the bad news?’ Nina asked conversationally.
Molly sighed. ‘Well, according to this we should have started organising the wedding in June last year.’
Nina waved the words away. ‘Oh, come on. How hard can it be? I mean, even Phil knows what you need. It’ll be fine. Surely the bride and groom do most of it themselves these days, don’t they? Oh look – great outfit. That’s half your problems solved.’ Nina pointed towards the screen. ‘That bluey-green one on the end with the straw hat. Don’t look so worried, let’s face it, we fly this place by the seat of our pants all the time. Organising a wedding will be a doddle.’
Molly bypassed the frock commentary. ‘Yes, but that’s because we’re dealing with the great British public – and I know they can be fickle and peculiar, but unlike Jess they’re not likely to cry all over me and use emotional blackmail to get what they want.’
Nina took a sip of coffee. ‘Oh, I dunno, there was that bloke in Great Yarmouth last summer…’ She laughed. ‘All right, all right, I hear what you’re saying. And I’m here for you. If you need a hand or a shopping buddy or just a shoulder to cry on, count me in. I’ve always been a sucker for a big hat and matching shoes. I’m thinking maybe lavender and cream…’
‘And I’m thinking it’s going to take a lot more than a decent frock to pull this off. Look at this list.’ Molly flicked back
