Читать книгу The Cosy Christmas Teashop: Cakes, castles and wedding bells – the perfect feel good romance - Caroline Roberts, Caroline Roberts - Страница 12

It was the day before the big Bridezilla wedding and Ellie’s mind was on a running loop of to-do’s: check all the deliveries came in, boil and glaze the hams for the buffet, bake as much as she could in advance for the afternoon-tea goodies. Oh yes, there was a buffet lunch and an afternoon tea to prepare for, as well as the outside caterers coming in for the evening event. She also had to make sure all the guest rooms were ready and looking tip-top – especially the suite which the bride would be using to get ready in, and the bridesmaids’ rooms that were along the same corridor. Oh yes, the advance party of bride and bridesmaids were arriving today, and Ellie had to be prepared.

The water began to run lukewarm and the shock of the cool water made her realize she’d been off in another zone. She’d better shampoo and condition quickly before the shower decided to totally run cold, which happened fairly regularly at the castle. Bloody hell, she hoped the hot water system would hold up for all the guests. Another concern to add to her list. Though the main guest wing had recently been given its own new boiler system, at last. Hopefully, it would all be fine.

She turned off the shower, and as she went to step out, realized Joe was stood there. Oh wow, stark naked in fact, holding a towel ready for her. He smiled at her as she stepped into the warmth of the towel and his arms, where they engaged in a surprisingly sexy kiss for this time of the morning. He was very naked just on the other side of that towel. Shame they both had to go to work. She pulled back gently from the kiss, smiling back at him.

He started towel drying her. She could feel his palms through the soft material moving over her body, loitering just a tad longer than was necessary on the breast area, which she had to admit was on the generous side. It used to annoy her that she was curvy and had trouble keeping the weight off of her hips and boobs, trying all sorts of faddy diets in her late teens and early twenties. But it never seemed to worry Joe, it was a positive bonus on his book. He often told her so.

Looking at him then, she realized that in the rush of everyday life, sometimes she forgot just how gorgeous he really was, dark hair still morning-tousled, toned physique, lean, fairly tall – no, not forgotten that wasn’t quite it, but she just didn’t notice like she used to. But moments like this could still take her by surprise, remind her how very lucky they were to have found each other. To be able to love each other.

She felt the nudge of an erection the other side of the towel, pressing low against her tummy, stirring something deep within her.

But there really was so much to do. A Bridezilla wedding to start cooking for, as well as all her Friday teashop routines. Damn. ‘Later … sorry, Joe. I really have tons to do.’

‘Such a shame. But I’ll take the later as a promise.’

She grinned at him. It was one promise she’d be more than happy to keep later on that evening. And the thought of it would keep them both smiling through what was bound to be a long day.

‘They’re here!’ Malcolm announced, poking his head around the teashop kitchen door. He’d been on lookout duty.

And so, the wedding weekend was about to begin. At least she’d got through all the lunch orders before Bridezilla and co arrived. Ellie quickly took off her apron, and ran from the teashop, across the courtyard, to the main castle entrance. She was just in time. A huge dark blacked-out windowed limousine pulled up at the bottom of the castle steps, followed by the biggest black stretch-Hummer vehicle she had ever seen. She could almost imagine the president of the USA stepping out from there, with his team of bodyguards.

But instead it was something far more intimidating. Platinum-blonde long curls and a short, rounded body, shrieking, ‘Get me the hell out of here. I feel car sick after all those bloody winding lanes.’

The limousine driver, who was now holding open the rear door of the vehicle for her ladyship, plus her mother, looked rather frazzled. Ellie smiled sympathetically across at him. That must have been some journey.

The bride-to-be and her mother were in the first vehicle, whilst out from the Hummer poured nine bridesmaids, who were stretching out their rather stiff joints, and then leaning back in to gather up a festoon of huge gowns, wrapped in special carriers. The last dress out was immense, layer upon layer of white taffeta and silk was apparent through its clear cover. It took two of the girls to carry it. No wonder the bridesmaids had been crammed in. The dresses would have filled the back of the vehicle alone.

Malcolm offered to help manoeuvre the gown into the castle, after phoning Derek quickly for backup.

Ellie smiled broadly at the arriving party, looking far more confident than she felt, ‘Welcome Chelsea, everyone, to your wedding at Claverham Castle.’

‘We need prosecco!’

It was 6 p.m., that same Friday evening. The Bridezilla bridal party had arrived at the castle two hours earlier. There had already been several demands; one being that an extra guest room was essential … for the dresses. The gowns were in fact the size of small houses, being of the Gypsy Wedding fashion style. The bride’s mammoth dress, and nine (yes, nine bridesmaids) only slightly smaller versions in … oh yes, you’ve guessed it, a selection of vivid colours to make up the colours of the rainbow (with a couple of repeats). They were certainly going to catch the eye tomorrow. Ellie had helped carry the robes into the spare room and was nearly flattened by the sheer weight of them. She seriously wondered how all ten of them were going to fit into the chapel aisle. It would be a squeeze.

And there was no way Bridezilla would be getting on a horse (or unicorn) dressed in that, or anything else to be fair. Ellie had already had to break that particular piece of news, highlighting the fact that a helmet would also have to be worn for health and safety reasons, which would of course ruin the bridal hairdo. The bride had finally conceded that riding in like Lady Godiva was maybe not such a good idea after all. Phew! Ellie had also explained the alternative suggestion for the unicorn entrance, which had been trialled only yesterday, and seemed to work fairly well – fingers crossed. Lauren had come to the rescue in that respect, with an alternative that looked the part at least.

And so, the wedding weekend had begun. Ellie’s mobile was unfortunately on speed dial.

‘So?’ Chelsea was shouting at her down the line.

‘Yes, right, prosecco … Well, I can certainly get that organized. I’ll just need to pop to the local shop in the next village.’

‘What do you mean you don’t have any here? What is this place?’

‘There’s plenty ordered in for tomorrow, which the landlord from the village pub will be bringing across. He’ll also be running a full bar service for the day, but we don’t have a bar of our own here all the time. But I can certainly fetch some for you, if that would help. It’s no trouble.’ It was hard trying to keep up a smiley voice through gritted teeth.

‘Yes, well don’t be too long. We’re getting parched here.’

‘So, how many bottles are you thinking?’

‘Ah, a dozen or so will do.’

A dozen. There were only eleven of them staying over tonight. Bridezilla, her mother, and the bridesmaids. The groom and all the guests were heading up first thing in the morning. Well, a bottle each then, nice going for a pre-wedding night. ‘Of course.’

Ellie had had fifteen minutes crashed on her sofa, with a small glass of chilled Sauvignon; she had definitely needed it, but that was all she was allowing herself, as she had to keep a clear head for the big day ahead and all of its many challenges. After having put the finishing touches to the wedding cake, and checking all the grand buffet arrangements, she had finally headed up to their apartment. She supposed it was a miracle she had managed fifteen minutes.

‘I’ll be back with you in about twenty minutes.’ She told Chelsea.

‘Twenty minutes? How’s that?’

‘Well, the nearest shop is five miles away, and I’ll need to nip in and pay.’ And that’ll be added to the ongoing bill.

‘Right then. Well, I suppose that’ll have to do.’ She sounded very disgruntled, and not even a mention of a thank you.

‘I’ll deliver it up to your rooms as soon as I’m back.’

‘Can we have ice buckets too?’

‘Of course.’ There were one or two stacked away in a cupboard in the teashop. She’d buy a big bag of ice at the shop too.

Still no thank you. Since when did Wedding Coordinator equate to slave?

Joe walked in from the apartment kitchen, where he’d just popped a pizza in the oven for them both. He’d obviously overheard the conversation. ‘I’ll go if you like. You’d better get something to eat. The pizza will be ready in about ten minutes. Just save me some.’ He smiled.

‘Thank you. You’re an angel.’

He gave a big grin.

‘An angel in a very sexy body,’ she added.

He grinned wider.

‘It’s on one condition though.’

Damn, she remembered her earlier promise. She may now be too tired to fulfil those particular needs tonight. ‘Yes?’

‘I don’t have to take the wine to their rooms. I have a feeling they’d eat me alive. It’d be like entering the lion’s den. I don’t think even my Batman underpants could protect me.’ He actually looked fearful.

‘Hah, you flatter yourself.’ But yes, he did have a point; ten hens pre-wedding. It could be a dangerous situation for any man!

‘Okay, twelve bottles of prosecco, actually make that sixteen, you never know.’ She could imagine a further phone call when the last bottle was emptied at midnight. ‘And a large bag of ready-made ice. Ring me when you get back, and if you help me get the bottles upstairs, I’ll take over at the threshold to the bridal suite.’ She laughed.

‘Deal.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘And you make sure you eat something while I’m out. Big day tomorrow and you’ll probably be working flat out.’

‘O-kay.’

Prosecco duly delivered, which seemed to settle the group down a bit, there was one more call-out to attend to an hour and a half later: a ‘horrific noise issue’. It was an owl; good old Hooter (or his offspring probably) was still on form out there in the woods. Not actually a lot Ellie could do about that, except offer cotton-wool balls to shove in their ears (Bridezilla did actually take her up on that) and a reassurance that it wasn’t an axe murderer out there, just normal nature doing its thing at night.

And then she managed six hours of rather unsettled sleep before her alarm went off at 5.45 a.m. It was going to be a hectic day and she wanted plenty of time to get organized. She had Irene coming in at 8 a.m. to bake two hundred mini scones for the afternoon tea. Doris (who’d been wrapping cutlery in ivory napkins till seven-thirty last night, bless her) was to be in at 8.30 to help set out the Great Hall with the assistance of Malcolm, Derek and Joe; there was to be a rectangular top table, and circular tables of twelve places set for the guests. The long antique wooden table that was usually the centrepiece of the room was to be covered for the buffet and set to one side (now, that’d take some moving – an all-hands-on-deck job), the French doors could then be opened out to the gardens where there was a marquee already set out for the bar, disco, and the hog roast company who were hired in for the evening. At least Ellie and her team got a break from the catering for the night do. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still on call! And, she was going to be back cooking on Sunday morning, doing a hundred breakfast rolls of sausage and bacon for the no doubt worse-for-wear revellers who had stayed over.

Wendy was coming in early morning too, to decorate the chapel, the balustrades into the castle, and the tables in the Great Hall with her floral magic. The displays and table decorations were then to be transferred out for the evening event to the marquee. The whole event had taken mega-organising skills, an ongoing (and ever-changing list) on a Word doc on Ellie’s iPad, and nerves of steel.

As she got down to the teashop kitchen Ellie was relieved to see that the three separate tiers of the iced wedding cake were still in one piece and looking perfect – she’d been fretting about it overnight. All she had to do was assemble them, but she was going to do that in the Great Hall. There was no way she was going to risk carrying it as a complete whole up the winding stairwell; so, she’d put the final touches to it in the next hour or so in situ, ready for the Wedding Breakfast. The delicate icing flowers, the unicorn modelled from sugar paste, and the arch of rainbow for the top, were all made and placed on greaseproof paper; with some rainbow piping and with a delicate hand it would look … well, like a rather gaudy rainbow cake to be honest, but pretty good. And it was what the bride wanted, so who was Ellie to judge.

An hour and a half flew by as she began preparing the buffet food. The Wedding Breakfast gourmet-buffet was to be served at 1.30 p.m. after champagne in the garden. The chapel service was booked for 11.30 a.m., and was usually just under the hour. She knew she’d be dashing about like a mad thing at that point, when she’d have a narrow window of free time to put final touches to the catering and check the Great Hall was ready, whilst the bridal party were otherwise occupied getting married. Then, she’d be back on call as maidservant to the bride. She was running a tight ship today and so far, by some miracle, hadn’t been called up to the bridal rooms as yet, though she had made a quick phone call to check all was well, and that they hadn’t needed anything at that point.

She’d spotted the hairdressing team and make-up artist turn up about an hour ago, so the ladies were probably busy getting preened. Deana was primed for reception duties, ready to meet and greet and show any guests through to the drawing room where they would congregate initially, and then to file them on to the chapel area. Ellie’s stomach gave a little churn. She sent up a little prayer to the heavens that today would go well.