mean just my kitchen, I mean the size of my entire flat. It’s absolutely my perfect room. Someone really clever has designed an ultra-modern, state-of-the-art kitchen that somehow works with beams that must be centuries old. Pale wood units adorn one end with the ubiquitous granite work tops, chosen with great care to pick up on the colour of the flagstones, which I’m practically drooling at. The other end, there’s a heavy refectory-type table with wooden chairs, which would seat, I’m guessing, about twenty.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asks Maria. ‘Water? Iced tea? Lemonade?’
‘Water would be lovely, thanks. This is a great room.’
‘Thank you. It’s my favourite part of the house. But this is the best…’
I follow her round the corner of the L. Okay, now this you could call cosy. The walls have been left untouched so you can see the detail of the old narrow bricks. There’s a huge, soft cream sofa and light pours in through the doors at the end, flung open onto the garden. I force myself to close my mouth.
‘Would you like to see outside?’
I’m starting to goggle at just how much money Pete and Maria have between them. I follow her onto a stone-paved patio stunningly planted with quite funky plants – banks of oranges and lime greens, spiky phormiums, tall, willowy grasses. Neatly striped grass stretches for ages until somewhere far away it simply merges into the landscape. Down some steps to one end is Maria’s pool, glistening invitingly in the sun.
‘It’s amazing.’ I’m completely mesmerised. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
‘ Thank you. Now…’ She turns to go back in. ‘I suppose we should talk about my flowers.’
Not surprisingly, Maria has some quite firm ideas about what she wants and because you never know what a bride’s going to come up with, I’m relieved to say, remarkably tasteful ones. They’re getting married in a small local church in October, with a marquee reception at Roselin Castle, which I’ve come to know quite well. It’s all very hush-hush and a florist’s dream. She wants, literally, tons of flowers everywhere.
‘I think we’re going to need some extra help.’ Back at the shop, I fill Skye in, after driving away from Maria’s on cloud nine and coming down to earth with rather a thump.
‘ Like Mrs O?’ she suggests.
I’d thought about that. ‘I’m not sure how she’d cope with lugging all that stuff around. Maria wants to turn the church into a fairytale forest with trees, just like Will s and Kate had, only lit by candles and nothing else. And a major snag is you can’t drive to it like you can Westminster Abbey – you have to walk down a narrow wooded path and over a bridge.’
‘Flaming heck, Frankie…I hope you’re charging her.’
‘I’ll have to. And at the castle, she wants these massive, towering candelabras on the tables, really huge ones, decked with ivy and white roses. Pete’s band are going to be playing… can you imagine? It’s going to be a sensational wedding,’ I tell her excitedly. ‘And outside she wants the grounds lit with huge flaming torches. And flowers absolutely everywhere inside the castle too, even though it’s only for breakfast the following morning…’
‘Blimey,’ says Skye, looking slightly dazed.
‘I know. This is going to be our biggest ever challenge,’ I say theatrically. ‘And the whole world will be watching us…’
It takes me hours just to work out the cost of this wedding. The cost of several thousand white roses is one thing, but it’s all the hire items and the labour that complicate it. Eventually I arrive at an eye-watering figure and blink disbelievingly at it. I go through it all again and get near enough the same answer. I scribble it down with a sinking feeling. She’ll never want to pay all that .
Just as I finish, I’m interrupted by a visitor. It’s Alex,
‘Would you like a drink?’ asks Maria. ‘Water? Iced tea? Lemonade?’
‘Water would be lovely, thanks. This is a great room.’
‘Thank you. It’s my favourite part of the house. But this is the best…’
I follow her round the corner of the L. Okay, now this you could call cosy. The walls have been left untouched so you can see the detail of the old narrow bricks. There’s a huge, soft cream sofa and light pours in through the doors at the end, flung open onto the garden. I force myself to close my mouth.
‘Would you like to see outside?’
I’m starting to goggle at just how much money Pete and Maria have between them. I follow her onto a stone-paved patio stunningly planted with quite funky plants – banks of oranges and lime greens, spiky phormiums, tall, willowy grasses. Neatly striped grass stretches for ages until somewhere far away it simply merges into the landscape. Down some steps to one end is Maria’s pool, glistening invitingly in the sun.
‘It’s amazing.’ I’m completely mesmerised. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
‘ Thank you. Now…’ She turns to go back in. ‘I suppose we should talk about my flowers.’
Not surprisingly, Maria has some quite firm ideas about what she wants and because you never know what a bride’s going to come up with, I’m relieved to say, remarkably tasteful ones. They’re getting married in a small local church in October, with a marquee reception at Roselin Castle, which I’ve come to know quite well. It’s all very hush-hush and a florist’s dream. She wants, literally, tons of flowers everywhere.
‘I think we’re going to need some extra help.’ Back at the shop, I fill Skye in, after driving away from Maria’s on cloud nine and coming down to earth with rather a thump.
‘ Like Mrs O?’ she suggests.
I’d thought about that. ‘I’m not sure how she’d cope with lugging all that stuff around. Maria wants to turn the church into a fairytale forest with trees, just like Will s and Kate had, only lit by candles and nothing else. And a major snag is you can’t drive to it like you can Westminster Abbey – you have to walk down a narrow wooded path and over a bridge.’
‘Flaming heck, Frankie…I hope you’re charging her.’
‘I’ll have to. And at the castle, she wants these massive, towering candelabras on the tables, really huge ones, decked with ivy and white roses. Pete’s band are going to be playing… can you imagine? It’s going to be a sensational wedding,’ I tell her excitedly. ‘And outside she wants the grounds lit with huge flaming torches. And flowers absolutely everywhere inside the castle too, even though it’s only for breakfast the following morning…’
‘Blimey,’ says Skye, looking slightly dazed.
‘I know. This is going to be our biggest ever challenge,’ I say theatrically. ‘And the whole world will be watching us…’
It takes me hours just to work out the cost of this wedding. The cost of several thousand white roses is one thing, but it’s all the hire items and the labour that complicate it. Eventually I arrive at an eye-watering figure and blink disbelievingly at it. I go through it all again and get near enough the same answer. I scribble it down with a sinking feeling. She’ll never want to pay all that .
Just as I finish, I’m interrupted by a visitor. It’s Alex,
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