Just a Family Affair by Veronica Henry Page A

enough. Is it, Dad?’ Mandy turned to her father anxiously.
    ‘Not really,’ said Keith. ‘You’d be very limited on numbers. And parking would be tricky.’
    ‘I definitely don’t fancy having it in a hotel. It’s not very personal, is it?’ Mandy wrinkled her nose.
    ‘I can’t think of anything worse,’ said Patrick. ‘Lukewarm Bucks Fizz and ghastly waitresses with big arses.’ He shuddered.
    ‘Why not have it here, then?’ said Lucy. ‘There’s bags of room.’
    ‘You honestly wouldn’t mind?’ Mandy’s eyes were shining. ‘All those people traipsing through the house and ruining the grass? Although,’ she added hastily, ‘we are hoping to keep it small. Ish.’
    ‘Mind?’ said Lucy. ‘I’d be thrilled. I’ll help you organize it. I haven’t got anything else to do.’
    Patrick was secretly delighted. Being a bloke, he hadn’t often fantasized about his own wedding, but now he’d given it some thought he couldn’t imagine holding it in some impersonal venue still warm from the previous incumbents, the confetti and cake crumbs hastily swept away in order to make way for the next arrivals. It seemed right to have it here at home. And now he knew the entire proceedings were being left to Lucy and Mandy, he could concentrate on the matter in hand. Getting the brewery back on its feet. He needed to speak to Keith as soon as possible. He was still very subdued, though Patrick was sure he was delighted by their announcement. And now they were officially engaged, Patrick could have a man-to-man chat about how each of them saw the future.
    Realizing he’d drifted off, he drew his attention back to the rest of the room. James, Mickey and Keith were half-heartedly passing a bottle of port amongst themselves. Caroline was dozing in the big chair, Percy snuggled up against her having just guzzled his afternoon bottle. Ginny, bless her, was tackling the nasty pans that wouldn’t go in the dishwasher, despite Lucy’s protestations. Lucy was busy making the tea she had promised earlier.
    The conversation had moved back to dresses, as it so often did. Patrick was relieved that he had little choice on the sartorial front. He had a morning suit. All he’d need to worry about was a new pair of shoes.
    ‘Gypsy punk,’ Kitty was saying, leaning back against the Aga, her hands gesticulating as she waxed lyrical on her favourite subject. She had wild curly hair, and was wearing a baby-doll dress over a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, dizzyingly high wedges and striped over-the-knee socks. For a moment, Patrick debated the wisdom of Mandy’s wedding dress being in Kitty’s hands. ‘Or Fifties starlet-harlot. Or flamenco? No. Those are all too . . . urban. We need something pastoral. Hardy meets Larkin. As in H. E. Bates, not Philip. With a bit of Midsummer Night’s Dream thrown in.’
    ‘Stop!’ Mandy was laughing at the enthusiasm her invitation had unleashed. ‘I’ve got no idea what I want yet. Patrick only proposed to me this morning. The only thing I’ve set my mind on is the colour.’
    ‘Oyster pink?’ Kitty sounded hopeful. ‘No - pale grey.’
    ‘Scarlet!’ said Sasha lasciviously. ‘You could easily do scarlet with your colouring.’
    ‘Too tarty.’
    ‘It doesn’t have to be.’
    The twins were soon arguing the toss. They were so different. Sasha was the antithesis of bohemian Kitty, all gloss and glimmer in designer jeans and a sparkly halter-neck top that showed off her fake tan, her hair poker straight and gleaming.
    ‘Sorry,’ said Mandy firmly. ‘I’m going to be dead boring, I’m afraid. I want to get married in white.’
    She smiled round as everyone stared at her. Caroline snorted. James raised an eyebrow. But Mandy stood her ground.
    ‘I’ve always wanted a white wedding.’
    ‘Then you shall have it,’ said Lucy soothingly. ‘There’s nothing boring about being traditional. I think it’s a lovely idea.’
    ‘To a white wedding,’ said Mickey, raising his glass. He