‘Of course not,' said Elsa. 'But being a bridesmaid is a really big thing. It should be someone who's known Ashlyn all her life not someone she's only met-'

‘I've known you nearly two years,' said Ashlyn. 'I like you – and you haven't killed any of my pets!’

Elsa tried to laugh at this attempt at lightheartedness. 'No, but..

‘Please!' said Ashlyn. 'I really want you to.'

‘I can't,' said Elsa, finding some determination at last. 'Why not?' demanded Ashlyn's mother, who wouldn't take no for an answer without a very good explanation. 'Seriously, I can't!'

‘But why not?' demanded Ashlyn, who took after her mother and was curious as well as demanding.

‘My armpits!' she said desperately and with all the firmness she could muster – given the word she was being firm with.

‘What about your armpits?' said Ashlyn, a frown disturbing her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

‘I haven't shaved them. At least, not for a few days.. Elsa faltered, anxiously regarding the women who were all looking back at her, appearing to condemn her for slovenly, unhygienic habits.

‘Not a problem,' said Bron smoothly, having kept out of the fraught discussion until now. 'I have disposable razors in my kit.’

Mrs Lennox-Featherstone, who, like the others, had perched on the edge of the double bed, stood up and came across to Elsa. 'I realise that as a family we're asking an awful lot of you, but this is Ashlyn's special day; we've been preparing for over two years. Please help us out.’

Elsa regarded her client. She knew as well as anyone how long this wedding had been in preparation as she had been thinking about, designing and eventually making the dresses for it. It had been her first really big contract and she'd put into it not only the expected blood, sweat and tears, but a good chunk of her soul too.

‘We would all be so grateful.' The older woman put her hand on Elsa's shoulder, and Elsa realised she'd never seen her vulnerable before. Bullying, Elsa might have stood up to, but not this heartfelt plea.

‘OK,' she said, really wishing she could find it in herself to refuse, but conceding that she was finally beaten. 'On the condition that Ashlyn doesn't wear those knickers,' she added. That was something she wouldn't budge on.

‘What's wrong with my knickers?' said Ashlyn indignantly. 'They're silk chiffon and Bobby's going to love them!'

‘I'm sure he is, but they'll show through your dress where it glides over your thighs. It'll spoil the line. I've got a thong if you don't want to go knickerless.’

Distracted from Elsa for a moment, Ashlyn's mother turned to her daughter. 'Darling, I really do think you'd better wear something. You can't go to church without pants on.'

‘Whatever,' said Ashlyn, 'as long as Elsa agrees to be my bridesmaid.’

Sarah, aware the room seemed very crowded all of a sudden, took charge once more. 'Elsa, you go to the bathroom and have a shower and a shave – sorry, that sounds a bit weird! Mrs Lennox-Featherstone, you go to your room and get dressed. Bron will want to do your hair soon. And Ashlyn, you sit still so Bron can finish yours and then she'll touch up your make-up.'

‘Let's open a bottle of champagne,' said Ashlyn when her mother had left the room and Elsa had been sent to the bathroom with a razor and an exfoliating scrub. 'I put a couple of bottles in the mini-bar fridge.’

Sarah really wanted to say no. She knew it was fatal for people to start losing control at this stage but she was weakened by events. She wouldn't have any herself but she really appreciated how welcome it would be to the others. 'OK then, if you must.'

‘Can you open it for us then, Sarah?' The bride fluttered her eyelashes just a little and Sarah sighed.

‘Get the glasses, Bron, there's a dear,' she said.

Everyone had a glass, and Sarah realised it had been a good idea after all. Just seeing the champagne pour creamily into the flutes had a calming effect.

Elsa realised she shouldn't have washed her hair just after the shower hit the top of her head, but it felt so good, standing under the pounding water. The hotel had provided very pleasant-smelling and luxurious toiletries and Elsa thought she might as well make the most of them. She also deserved them. It was going to take far more effort to do this than anyone realised. Going home with soft and gently perfumed skin was, she felt, a justified perk. Besides, the shower in her converted loft and workroom wasn't that good. She stayed under the water for as long as she thought she'd get away with.

Eventually she went back into the bedroom feeling clean and shiny with armpits dewy, hairless and fit to be seen. 'I probably shouldn't have washed my hair,' she said apologetically.

Bron, who had been checking Ashlyn's hair, which was swept into a chignon that enhanced her blonde beauty, looked up briefly and said, 'It's OK,' before turning back to the delicate diamond tiara sitting on the top of the shining gold base, making sure that no pins were visible, and nothing less than a hurricane was likely to dislodge it.

‘Happy?' Bron asked the bride in the mirror.

‘Magic,' said Ashlyn, seeing herself as a proper bride for the first time. 'I look quite like Claudia Schiffer, don't 'Even more gorgeous,' said Sarah, laughing gently.

'Now, if you don't mind going somewhere and keeping very still, we'd better let Bron get on with Elsa.’

Elsa, seated in front of the mirror, draped in a gown, peeked at herself through her hair. She really hated having it done and recently had taken to cutting the ends off herself with her dressmaking scissors – but not too often in case it permanently blunted them. It wasn't so much that she minded the end result, she just hated spending all that much time looking at herself in the mirror.

Bron stood behind her, holding Elsa's hair and moving it this way and that. 'It's a lovely colour,' she said.

‘Thanks,' muttered Elsa.

‘And in great condition. I'm just thinking… We haven't got a lot of time to put it up, what do you think about a restyle?'

‘Won't that take longer than just putting it in a bun?' said Elsa. She'd already had enough excitement for one day.

Bron shook her head and shuddered at the same time. 'Definitely not. Up-dos take ages. A cut and a blow-dry will be much quicker and I think it'll look fab.'

‘What about the headdress?' said Ashlyn from her seat by the window, as she idly flicked through a magazine. 'She has to wear it.'

‘Not a problem. What do you think, Elsa?’

Elsa didn't want to think. 'I'll shut my eyes,' she said. 'You do what you think is best.'

‘Excellent,' said Bron softly, and picked up her comb.

Elsa sat at the dressing table, trying not to look at her reflection. She spent her working life coaxing beautiful fabrics into graceful shapes to make young women's bridal dreams come true but she really hated getting dressed up herself. Her wardrobe consisted of several pairs of black trousers and several black tops. She felt safest in black.

Bron's gentle fingers raised her head or moved it every now and then. She combed, she cut, and Elsa still didn't look. As with using the bath products, having a haircut would make the torture that was to come useful, if possibly unbearable.

Elsa had never liked being the centre of attention and would do anything to avoid it. It went back to her schooldays when she blushed terribly easy and everyone used to tease her. She still blushed – although not quite as much -but the habit of never doing anything that made people look at her stuck.

Bron chatted gently to Elsa as she worked, commenting on the wonderful condition of her hair. 'And as I said, it's a lovely colour.'

‘You don't think I should have some highlights in it or something?'