Nory grinned to herself and slipped the note into her pocket. The castle was ringing with the sounds of hammering, radios tuned to different channels in different rooms, and instructions being shouted. It had begun in earnest when the last guest was officially awake, and looked set to continue indefinitely. People ran up and down the stairs and darted in and out of rooms as the castle began its transformation from stately home to wedding venue. Nory felt uncomfortable being a guest in the castle while her sister-in-law and her mum worked on the flowers, and was glad of an excuse to slope off for a while later.

Katie and Jeremy had had their dinners sent up to their room last night and didn’t make it down for breakfast either; Jenna was doing her level best not to pout about it. She had returned from the spa yesterday evening a calmer woman. But that serenity had dissipated this morning, with the arrival of Elsa, the PR woman for OK! Magazine, who wanted to “nail down” tomorrow’s run of events, and an accompanying journalist who would be interviewing the bride and groom for the piece. Pippa and Elsa were already locking horns over who had seniority regarding the wedding.

“I’m glad not to be involved in this particular power play,” said Ameerah as Jenna shrieked down the stairs: “I don’t give a fuck who’s in charge as long as someone gets me a goddamn double-shot cappuccino! And where the pissing hell is the sodding spray-tan woman, Pippa? I need time to develop.”

“Maybe I’ll tell her about the salad later,” Nory mused.

“Oh, I’d get it over with now if I were you; this volcano’s only going to get more volatile as the day goes on.”

“I’d forgotten she could be like this.”

“Had you? Lucky you.”

“Are you and Dev coming down to the tree lighting later?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I hope the school tour is done by then.”

“Christ, whose idea was this particular trip down memory lane?” Ameerah asked.

“Charles and Guy’s. They wanted to relive the glory years. Plus, I think it’s a good excuse to get out of this madhouse for a couple of hours.”

“Typical! They were the only ones who found those years glorious. The rest of us were just trying to get through it without PTSD.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” said Nory.

“Not for you! You had a normal loving family to go home to at weekends and holidays.”

“Define ‘normal.’ And anyway, you did all right, you spent most of the holidays at ours.”

“When I wasn’t summoned by my parents to be their trophy daughter, from wherever they had moored the yacht.”

“Oh, you poor dear thing. It must be so tiresome being rich!”