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that’s the best way to keep them sweet. If there was anything particularly expensive I wanted for the wedding, I’d be sure to raise the subject on. . . Tuesday,” she finished triumphantly.
    “Right,” I said. “Date nights. What a lovely idea.”
    “And while we’re on the subject,” said Katharine (and I thought, no, please, please get off the subject), “You might want to think of a sex diet before the big day.”
    I let out an involuntary shriek of laughter. “A what diet?”
    “Sex diet. No nookie for six weeks before the wedding. Iain grumbled about it at the time, but it was so worth it. It made our wedding night much more magical in that way. Almost like the first time.”
    As far as I could tell, the only possible consequences of that for us would be Nick wanking himself into an early grave, or things on the wedding night coming to a disappointingly premature conclusion. But I said, “Thanks for sharing that with me, Katharine. That’s really interesting and special. I’ll keep it in mind. Now what about shoes?” I might be a bit of a dead loss when it comes to flowers and stuff, but there’s nothing I like better than a good long chat about shoes.
    Just as Katharine was about to open the folder entitled ‘Shoe inspiration’ (I could see that it contained more than two hundred files and I was leaning forward eagerly for a look), Iain stuck his head round the door.
    “Come on, ladies,” he said. “Tear yourselves away from the wedding master plan! We’re about ready to see the photos and the video.”
    Katharine ejected the USB stick and pressed it into my hand, actually squeezing my fingers shut around it. “Guard. This. With. Your. Life,” she said.

CHAPTER THREE
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    Subject: Re: Plans
    Hi Mum
    Well, tomorrow we’re off to see Pippa’s folks and break the news. Can’t help feeling a bit nervous about it! Am I meant to ask Gerard’s permission, or do we just jump right in and tell them it’s a done deal, or what? And next weekend we’re going to check out a venue, a posh country house hotel. Hopefully Pippa will like it as much as I do from looking at the photos. I’m attaching a link and I can’t wait to hear what you think. It’s all starting to feel very real now – bet you never thought you’d see me settling down at last! Great that you might be able to come out for a bit longer before the wedding – it sounds like you could do with a break, and I miss you, you know.
    Love
    Nick
    One of the first things I get asked when I tell people I cook for a living is, “Did you learn from your mum?” My reply is generally, “Well, I learned how not to cook.” Mum’s motto in the kitchen is that if you put nice things into food, the end result will be nice too, and to some extent this is true. But then she does tend to get a bit carried away and add rather too many nice things, or forget she’s got something in the oven because she’s catching up with The Archers omnibus or dead-heading the camellias.
    As a child I was treated to many birthday cakes that tasted like the aftermath of a house fire, in spite of having had the burned bits scraped off into the sink and the whole thing thickly coated in lurid buttercream. And then there was the time she read an article about the importance of umami and decided a jar of anchovies would make a brilliant addition to spag bol. So Sunday lunches chez Martin tend to be a bit hit and miss, which is why Nick and I bought bacon croissants at Delice de France to eat on our way down to see my parents and deliver our good news.
    Not that I care what they give us to eat. As we walked hand in hand from the station to the house where I grew up, I could feel a deep sense of peace descending over me, and I know this is going to sound a bit fanciful and silly, but the closer we got, the more intense it became. By the time we pushed open the garden gate and I could smell the roses and