‘You need to remember that the prices are shown without the VAT,' said Veronica, gently touching Bron's arm. 'I can claim it back but you have to pay it upfront.’

Bron refused to be cast down. 'I'll keep the things that are for me separate. I can't have Carrie paying for Dad's liquorice pipes. Oh, and look at that! Boxes and boxes of Dairy Milk – imagine never running out!’

Veronica chuckled. 'You don't want to risk your lovely figure eating too much chocolate. They'll tempt you terribly if you buy them.'

‘Mm. I suppose so.' She put back the lifetime's supply of chocolate she had heaved on to the trolley. 'I'd better get out my list.'

‘And try to stick to it, or you'll end up spending a fortune and not have the things you need. Believe me, I know!’

Bron was very pleased with her haul. She hadn't deviated from her list too badly and when she had, she'd been able to justify it. When they got back to Veronica's large and officially hygienic kitchen, she had some huge baking tins, enough foil to line a large room, almost as much silicone paper, baking sheets, cooling racks, sackfuls of silver balls and other decorative bits she thought might be useful as well as kilos and kilos of butter, flour and sugar. Several trays of eggs topped the stack of ingredients on the floor. She could collect the crystals from Elsa once she knew what she was doing.

‘Shopping in such huge quantities is exhausting!' she said, helping Veronica in with a huge pack of flour. 'Everything is so enormous.'

‘And you walk so far because the place is so huge,' said Veronica. 'It's a mile between the cornflakes and the porridge oats. I reckon I don't need to do any other exercise if it's a Cash and Carry day. My upper body strength is very impressive these days.’

Bron looked at her arms, which were trembling slightly with exertion. 'Mm – I think I need to work on mine.’

Veronica filled the kettle and while she waited for it to boil said, 'So, dear, are we going to be able to share a kitchen? Ideally, we wouldn't coincide, but you need a dummy run and each layer will take time and I've got my usual baking to do.’

Bron hurried to reassure her. 'I'll be very tidy, I promise you. I'm a very organised cook.’

Veronica laughed. 'Well, Pat really misses you; that Sasha never lifts a finger, apparently.’

Bron tried to look insouciant. She failed.

Bron was putting up Elsa's hair on the night of her ball with Laurence. As it was short, this took a long time. Elsa was as nervous as any bride under her gentle fingers but was trying to make bright conversation.

‘It's only three weeks to go to the wedding – how many cakes have you made now?'

‘Several. James won't eat them any more.’

Elsa looked at her in surprise. 'What do you mean? I thought men always liked cake.'

‘My first couple of efforts he accepted gratefully but the last time he said, "I'm sorry, I just can't eat any more." I said, "It's not cake, it's trifle." He said, "But it's made of cake, isn't it?"‘

Elsa giggled. 'So what did you do with it?'

‘I was very brave and took it up to the big house and gave it to Vanessa. She was thrilled. She was having people for dinner the next day. I was really flattered. I hope they didn't get drunk. It had loads of sherry in it. I'd bought some at the Cash and Carry. So,' Bron went on, 'are you honestly telling me you haven't seen Laurence since your ballroom dancing lesson?'

‘Mm. Now I'm really anxious about seeing him again. He was a bit… I don't know… off after the lesson. And I thought I'd done quite well. I went whizzing round with the teacher.' She smiled. 'I've been practising.'

‘Oh, show me!' said Bron, delighted. 'Only not until I've finished your hair and done your make-up.'

‘We were supposed to practise together but he's been away. He has to travel on business quite a bit, apparently. Anyway, I'm nervous now because we didn't work together last time.'

‘Nonsense,' said Bron. 'You'll be fine.’

'There,' said Bron, half an hour later, 'let's look at you.’

Elsa moved to the full-length mirror fixed to the wall in her workroom. She had looked at many a bride in it, but hadn't often studied herself so carefully. Bron came and stood behind her, hair lacquer in her hand in case a couple of hairs dared escape. They both felt satisfied with their work.

Her dress had turned out brilliantly, Elsa thought, possibly because she'd had quite a lot of time to spend on it as Carrie still hadn't decided what she wanted. The little puff sleeves, high waist and low cut neckline really did make her look like an illustration from the cover of a Georgette Heyer novel, she thought. The overskirt opened over a soft petticoat of palest primrose. She didn't say so to Bron, but before she'd started, she'd checked the colours with the swatches from when she'd had her colours done.

Her hair, gummed into place, padded out with false pieces and adorned with delicate fake flowers and a million Kirby grips, looked historically correct. She wore elbow-length gloves and had a light shawl draped across her elbows.

‘Oh, Elsa!' cried Bron, kissing her. 'You look fantastic! Honestly. Look at you. So lovely. I must take a picture. Stay there.' Bron ran to get her phone and took several shots while Elsa regarded herself critically, looking more at the details and cut of the gown than her face.

But when Bron showed her the pictures Elsa said, 'Golly, I do look quite pretty. Maybe I should always wear my hair like this.' She laughed. 'If I don't go near any magnets and the grips don't all fly out, it could be a whole new look for me.'

‘Silly,' said Bron. 'Your ordinary, everyday hair makes you look pretty, but this is special because it makes you look like a painting.’

Elsa had to admit she did look the part. She wondered what Laurence would think; she hoped he'd be suitably impressed.

She stretched out a foot, getting into the whole business now. 'It's good these slippers are so fashionable. These were really cheap.'

‘So if you leave one behind at the ball you won't mind,' said Bron.

They both giggled.

‘I don't think Prince Charming's been invited.'

‘Isn't Laurence your Prince Charming?' asked Bron.

Elsa shook her head. 'I don't know. I mean, I really like him, and we seem to get on well, but maybe he just wanted someone to take to the ball, or he'd have been in touch more, don't you think? He's only phoned me once to confirm when he's picking me up.’

Bron shrugged. 'Maybe something will happen tonight.’

Elsa felt herself go pink at the prospect. She had been thinking about Laurence quite a bit recently and she'd often found herself imagining what it would be like to go out with him – properly. 'Maybe.' She looked at Bron. 'I've gone all nervous and girly!'

‘That's good. Sometimes getting ready for a party is the best bit. Now let's have a final look.' She turned Elsa's head this way and that, checking it all over.

‘So how about you and James?' asked Elsa, not wanting Bron to feel left out of her happy anticipation.

‘Well, he's being brilliant helping me with the cake. He's made a stand for it and has really taken trouble with it, but I don't really know how he feels about me as a woman.' She sighed.

‘Well, how do you feel about him?’

Bron shook her head. 'He is lovely and very attractive but I don't know if I've just got some sort of crush on him because he's been so helpful, and anyway, after Roger, anyone would seem attractive.'

‘Lovely, attractive and helpful – he sounds perfect!' said Elsa.