The Wedding Diary (Choc Lit) by Margaret James

soldiers?
    They should have been shot themselves.
    As for lovely things – the girl from Chapman’s yard had looked even more beautiful out in the soft spring sunshine.
    Where had he put that woman’s business card?
    He patted all his pockets, but he couldn’t find it. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if he needed any work.
    He had more than enough of it already, and she could always call him, anyway.
    ‘What a hottie,’ Fanny said, as she watched Adam Lawley stride away.
    She read the details on his business card and then she slipped it into her Versace leather handbag, smirking speculatively.
    ‘I must get my train,’ said Cat, zipping up her own bag which was made of bright pink canvas and had come from Stead & Simpson.
    ‘Of course you must, my darling.’ Fanny snapped her fingers, and Rosie and the boy photographer came hurrying up at once.
    They all piled into Fanny’s BMW and Fanny zoomed away at Mach 1 speed, churning up the gravel and scattering the rabbits who were venturing out to take their evening promenade.
    ‘A good day’s work, my angels,’ Fanny told them, as the BMW careened along the narrow country roads. ‘We’ve lots and lots of lovely pix of gorgeous Cat, so darling Lulu’s going to be delighted – don’t you think so, Rosie?’
    ‘Yes, she should be very pleased,’ said Rosie, who was clearly used to being thrown around in purple BMWs and didn’t seem to mind one little bit. ‘Mummy said to tell you, Fanny – if you’ll let her have a snap or two, she’ll write a little piece for
Dorset People
. The editor’s a friend, plays golf with Dad.’
    ‘Excellent,’ said Fanny, honking at some walkers who were cluttering up the road and forcing them to take evasive action in the form of falling in a ditch.
    Cat didn’t know what Rosie and her boss were going on about. But she found she didn’t really care. By now she’d had enough of Fanny and her gang and wanted to go home.
    As Fanny brought the BMW to a shuddering halt outside the station, she turned to look at Cat. ‘I’m sorry we can’t take you back to London,’ she said crisply. ‘But we have to drive to Solihull.’
    ‘What’s in Solihull?’ asked Cat, relieved. She didn’t fancy driving back to London with Fanny, Rosie and the boy photographer and being interrogated all the way.
    ‘We’re seeing a woman who makes sugar flowers and sugar Moses baskets, rocking horses, bootees and the like for christening and wedding cakes,’ said Rosie.
    ‘She reckons she’s the queen of sugar art,’ continued Fanny. ‘She’s won all sorts of prizes and awards, apparently. Now she wants to move upmarket, sell her stuff to WAGs and supermodels. So she needs my help.’
    ‘She says she doesn’t mind how much it costs. We think she must be loaded,’ added Rosie.
    ‘Or maybe she’s delusional,’ drawled Fanny.
    She’s not alone, thought Cat.
    As soon as she got back to London, she decided, she was going to write to Fanny Gregory. She would say that everything was off, and she was sorry for all the inconvenience she had caused. She hoped the runners-up would have the wedding of a lifetime.
    She got out of the BMW. ‘It’s been great to meet you,’ she said insincerely, shaking hands all round and stroking Caspar on his velvet head and hoping the experience of spending time with Fanny would never be repeated.
    ‘Thank you, sweetheart, likewise,’ Fanny said. She arranged her face into a terrifying grin. ‘I’ll finalise some details and then I’ll be in touch. I’ll need firm confirmation very soon, most probably Monday morning.’
    ‘But, but,’ said Cat, ‘I can’t—’
    ‘I’ll call you, angel. So mind you keep your phone on all the time.’
    Cat watched the BMW zoom away. She knew she wouldn’t write that letter. She didn’t have the nerve. She wondered what the hell she should do now, apart from find a lake and drown herself?
    Adam and the foreman on the site sorted out the urgent plumbing