‘Fireworks!' said Lily, sounding a bit like one. 'They're on the list!'

‘It doesn't mean you have to have them. Look, read it carefully. It also mentions chocolate fountains, and we've decided you could have that at the hen night. Everyone can chip in for that so it won't cost you much.'

‘Children's entertainer,' mused Lily. 'That sounds a nice idea. I don't actually know anyone with children yet, but there are bound to be one or two.’

'If there are only one or two, you won't need an entertainer. You have to cut your cloak according to your cloth,' Sarah said gently.

‘A cloak? Will I need one? It's not on the list.'

‘Oh, Lily! It's just an expression!’

Lily threw down her vol-au-vent. 'Oh. I really want one now.’

Sarah sighed and extracted the book from her sister's hands. 'You don't need that silly list! I can tell you everything you need, and if you want a cloak, you can have it. But it won't be all that cold in August – we hope. We'll need to save money where we can.’

Lily collapsed like a deflated doll. 'Oh God, this is all so difficult! I want a lovely fairy-tale wedding and I can't have one because we haven't got enough money.'

‘You can have a fairy-tale wedding, you just have to be careful, and clever with how you spend your money. I've done one or two weddings on a shoestring and they were brilliant. All it really needs is for you to look lovely, and you will, even if you wear a bin-liner – no, I'm not suggesting that – and for Dirk to look handsome. And you're both such a good-looking couple, you're bound to do that.’

Although Sarah said a lot of this to cheer Lily up, she did genuinely mean it. 'I bet you have a beautiful baby, too.'

‘And will you babysit sometimes? I can't bear the thought of never being able to go out.'

‘Of course I will. I'll love it. I'll spoil it to death.'

‘Does that mean you'll buy it a pram and stuff like that? Then we can spend a bit more on the wedding.'

‘Lily, go and talk to Dad about all this. In the old days the bride's parents paid for everything. Although money is tight I'm sure he's got a savings account or something for just this sort of thing. He didn't pay for your last wedding, after all.'

'No he didn't,' said Lily.

‘And of course, I'll chip in too. You don't have to have imported flowers, smoked salmon, or unlimited champagne. I'll draw up a proper list and we can talk it through. We'll make it wonderful, don't you worry.’

Lily smiled beatifically. 'All right, I won't.’

A moment later Sarah realised by telling Lily not to worry, she'd just have to worry herself instead. But then that was what she was there for – and always had been.

‘Shall we go and look at honeymoons now?' suggested Lily.

‘That time of year, it'll have to be Europe – all the exotic places have hurricanes in August. Another way to save money.’

When Sarah had left Lily at the railway station at Finchcombe, just in time for the only train that would take her back on a Sunday, she drove home considering a career in funeral management. She was weddinged out. She never wanted to see another piece of tulle, a flower arrangement, a bit of confetti, or a hand-engraved champagne flute. No, she said to herself, a career in the very opposite direction was what she wanted now. She realised she would have to talk to her father about a contribution to Lily's wedding but that wouldn't be hard. Although she'd have to help Lily a lot with regard to suppliers and how to make economies, with any luck she wouldn't actually have to plan it.

Later that evening she washed away the cares of a very long day. The shower pouring over her head and body was blissful. Every time she used it she blessed the business that allowed her to put one in. Maybe she did like weddings after all, and funeral directors (she thought as she squirted shampoo into her hand) worked very unsocial hours sometimes.

The phone ringing penetrated her aquatic bliss. She turned off the shower and found a towel, half hoping the answerphone would kick in. Sunday evenings should be sacrosanct, shouldn't they?

Her answerphone obviously felt the same and refused to operate. She got to the telephone, clutching her towel, hoping it was Lily or someone she didn't have to be professional for.

‘Hi,' said a female voice. 'Is that Sarah Stratford? The wedding planner?’

Oh. Definitely work. She hitched up the towel, wondering how anyone could ever want a videophone. 'Yes.' Did she want to admit that? Still, too late now.

‘I'm Mandy Joseph, Carrie Condy's assistant.’

Sarah trawled through her mental checklist of names she should instinctively know. Mandy Joseph had said it as if it was one she expected to be recognised. 'Wow,' Sarah replied, to buy herself more time.

‘You'll have read that she's just got engaged?'

‘Oh yes! Yes.' Now Sarah spoke with more confidence. The American actress, of course. She had read that Carrie Condy had become engaged to an equally beautiful and up-and-coming young actor. 'Oh wow!' she said once more, with feeling this time.

‘Well, she heard about you from a friend, and wants you to arrange the wedding.'

‘Wow!' said Sarah for the third time. 'That's fantastic! Who did she hear about me from?' Which of her clients could possibly know Carrie Condy? she asked herself frantically.

‘Someone who was at the wedding you handled on Saturday.'

‘Oh. Well, it was a lovely wedding.' The budget a young star who'd been nominated for an Oscar might have floated around in Sarah's head like a happy pink bubble. Suddenly she was happy with weddings – she loved weddings!

‘So we heard. Are you available?'

‘Oh, I'm sure I am. What date did you have in mind? To get the best venue, we need to book early.'

‘August.'

‘That's fine, but next year? Or the year after?'

‘This year. August this year. Carrie wants to get married as soon as possible.’

‘But that's only two months away,' said Sarah, her heart in overdrive.

‘We have a very small window. In fact, shall I tell you the date now?’

Sarah nodded and then realised that wouldn't work on the telephone. A sixth sense told her what she was about to hear. 'Yes please,' she breathed.

‘The eighteenth. It's a Saturday.'

‘I know,' said Sarah. Her mouth had gone dry.

‘Is that all right for you? If not, I have a whole list of names here, I could try one of them?' Mandy Joseph didn't sound threatening, she sounded sympathetic, as if she could stop bothering Sarah at any moment.

‘No!' It was a squeak. 'No, that's fine.' Still clutching the towel Sarah groped for the bottle of water that was on her desk, opened the top and had a swig. She cleared her throat. 'So, what sort of wedding did Carrie have in mind?' Should she have said Carrie – or Miss Condy?

Carrie was obviously fine because Mandy Joseph didn't miss a beat. 'Oh, pretty traditional. Like the one you did for Ashlyn.’

Sarah slopped some water into a glass. If all the moisture from her mouth was going to keep evaporating like this, she needed to be able to replace it quickly. 'That took two years to organise, not two months.'

‘Why so long?’

Sarah cleared her throat. 'Most good venues – not to mention churches – are booked up that far in advance, especially if you want a Saturday. If you were to change-'

‘Saturday's the traditional day, right?’

Sarah spotted a glimmer of opportunity. 'Not necessarily. If you – if Miss Condy – got married in London, weekdays are traditional.' This would make it so much easier to arrange. It should just about be possible to find a good hotel in London available on a weekday with two months' notice. Don't say Carrie Condy was pregnant as well as Lily? That would be a coincidence too far, surely?