She’d chatted with Jordan that very morning and had come off the call uplifted. Jordan had a certain way about her, something Abby couldn’t quite pin down. “The thing is, because she is my bridesmaid, we’re telling everyone she’s a long-lost friend from my childhood. One who moved away when I was nine, and we’ve just got back in touch via social media. So if you could play along if that comes up in conversation, that would be great.” She knew it was a lot to take in, but she hoped her mum would agree.

Mum paused, a chip close to her mouth. “A wedding planner and a professional bridesmaid with a whole fake back story? Things really have changed since my day.” She patted Abby’s knee. “But you seem more relaxed. If that’s Jordan’s doing, well done her. I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

Relief flowed through Abby. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I’m your mum. What else am I going to do?” She paused. “So she’s taking over the hen weekend now Delta’s having a meltdown?”

Abby nodded. “She is. Delta was resistant at first, but she soon got over it. She’s still my maid of honour. Nothing’s changed on that score.”

“We’re still going to Cannes? Where it costs an arm and a leg for a gin and tonic? Did I tell you Janet went there last year, and came back with a second mortgage?”

They’d been through this. “Yes, we’re still going there. Plus, it’s not going to cost that much, seeing as the accommodation is free, as is the in-house chef.”

Mum clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Do I need to remind you where I went on my hen weekend?”

She didn’t. It was etched in Abby’s memory. “Blackpool. I know, I’ve been told once or twice.”

“Rained the whole bloody time, but we still had a ball. You don’t need to fly to fancy places to have a good time.”

“I know. But it’s a short flight and there’s a free house. Rude not to.” Abby gave her mum a look that she hoped told her to shut up.

Gloria heeded it.

Chapter 9

“I’ve told you before, Marcus. You’re having a top table, and that’s the end of it.” Marjorie bristled. From what Jordan had seen, bristling was her favourite pastime. “And you’ve got to have more flowers than Abby wants. At least two bouquets per table. Otherwise, what will people think?”

Jordan sat forward, tapping her pen on her pad. “On the contrary, Marjorie, less is more these days. I’ve been reading all the latest bridal magazines, and they all say that minimal is the new look. It’s all about browns and greens, nothing too ostentatious. Makes it more environmentally conscious.”

Marjorie sat up at that. “Is it really?”