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girls
would do as well.’
    It turned out that I had no idea what was involved in planning a wedding. Saffron enumerated all the chief
bridesmaid’s duties, ticking them off on her fingers, until I was lost in
details of fittings and favours and rehearsal dinners.
    ‘And then, of course, there’s the hen party,’ said Saffron.
‘That’s nearly as important as the wedding itself. That’s your main job.’
    ‘Wait, hold on! My job?’ I
struggled forward on the sofa in consternation.
    ‘You’re the only one who can do it.’
    ‘Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no.’ I waved my hands frantically to
push the very idea away. ‘That’s a very bad idea.’
    George, the beast, was shaking with laughter. I could feel it
reverberating along the sofa, and I glared at him.
    ‘But you’re my sister,’ said Saffron, hurt.
    ‘Saffron, we discussed this before, and we agreed I wouldn’t
fit in with everyone else.’
    ‘And you’re good at managing projects,’ Saffron went on as if I
hadn’t spoken. ‘It has to be you.’
    I drew in a deep breath. I had to put a stop to this right
away. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said as firmly as I knew how. ‘I can’t drop everything to
run up and down to London, Saffron. I’ve got a visitor and conference centre to
build on schedule and on budget...’
    I stopped, realising that I might as well have been speaking
Polish. It was doubtful if Saffron had ever come across the word ‘budget’
before.
    ‘The thing is, Hugh’s depending on me to see this project
through for him,’ I tried to explain. ‘I can’t let him down.’
    ‘But you can let me down!’
    Suppressing a sigh, I tried a different tack. ‘You need a
bridesmaid who can really give you the attention you deserve,’ I said. ‘One of
your friends who lives in London and has the time to find you just the right
place for your party, and help you choose all the wedding details. You know I’m
no good at that kind of thing,’ I added with a cajoling smile, but Saffron
refused to be consoled.
    ‘You’re my sister.’ Saffron’s lower lip trembled tragically.
‘I’d think you’d want to be part of my big day.
There’s no one else I can rely on. Daddy’s always working, and I’ve never had a
mother.’
    Saffron: barely a GCSE to her name, but a PhD in emotional
blackmail.
    ‘You’ve got Jax.’
    ‘He’s touring, and anyway he’s no good at wedding stuff.’ The
green eyes swam with tears. Wordlessly, Roly reached for her hand, and Saffron
permitted herself a little sob. ‘Couldn’t you at least organise the hen party?
Otherwise I won’t have one, and what sort of bride doesn’t have a party?’
    I drew a breath and told myself to stay firm. ‘I would, but I
have this pesky thing called a job. I realise you may not have come across the
concept before,’ I added, although the irony was lost on Saffron, ‘but a job
involves turning up at a specific time and place and working in exchange for
money.’
    ‘Well, that’s not a problem. Daddy would pay you if you need
money.’
    My expression tightened. ‘I’m not taking anything from him,’ I
said in a flat voice. ‘And anyway, it’s not about money. It’s about
responsibility. I’ve made a commitment to see this job through until Hugh is
better. We have a contract and a responsibility to our client—who is Lord
Whellerby here,’ I said, not that I expected that to mean much to Saffron.
    It was too much to hope that my sister might realise what an
awkward situation she was putting me in and suddenly become rational.
    Not that Roly was helping by patting Saffron’s hand
sympathetically, as if her bridesmaid crisis were more important than getting
his new conference centre built on time.
    Saffron pouted. ‘I don’t see why you need a stupid job anyway.
If you’d only talk to Daddy, you could do whatever you liked. I don’t understand
why you’re both so stubborn about each other!’
    ‘My career is what I like,’ I said,
exasperated. ‘I don’t