paper and pen. I grab a bunch of bridal magazines and I open the bottle of Chardonnay.
‘So you are still working on when and where?’ says Issie quietly as she carefully writes ‘Cas and Josh’s wedding’ at the top of the page. Her handwriting is round and childish and familiar.
‘July and Esher, Josh’s family home.’
‘Good progress,’ grins Issie. ‘Which church?’
‘A church? I hadn’t thought of a church.’
‘They usually feature.’
‘I was thinking of a civil ceremony. Maybe in a garden or a smart hotel?’ I cross my legs underneath me.
Issie gently probes, ‘Have you discussed this with Josh? I mean he’s quite godly.’
‘Considering he plays rugby,’ I add.
We both laugh. It’s true Josh is a long way from being a bible basher but he does believe in God and goes to church at Easter, Christmas and at least two or three other times a year. I do recall him taking his godfather duties very seriously when he became godfather to the children of his head of chambers. I’d sort of put it down to brown nosing. But maybe not. I consider it.
‘Of course he’s godly, Issie. He went to a posh school which had obligatory Mass. Look, I’ll discuss it with him.’
‘Well, if you are hoping for a July wedding you’d better discuss it pretty damn quickly. It’s April now. I take it you mean this July?’ She’s doodling hearts and bells on the corner of the list.
‘Yes, I mean this July.’
We move on and begin to draw up a list of costs. I’m somewhat perturbed to discover that tradition has it that the bride’s parents are supposed to pay for just about everything; the groom’s parents get off with the odd bunch of flowers and the rings. I doubt very much that my mother has had a secret trust fund that magically matures as I meet Prince Charming. I think her budgeting for my wedding would truly have been a leap of faith; I’d hardly indicated that I was marrying material. Unless I want to give my guests sausages on sticks and cheese and pineapple chunks, Josh and I will have to pay for the wedding. I hope that won’t offend anyone. People have been acting rather strangely recently. Indeed, if I’d had a pound for every time anyone had said the words ‘traditional’, ‘the done thing’ and ‘expected’, I’d be a millionaire. I’m surprised that these words have been showered on me with such frequency because I’d never heard them previously in my entire life.
‘OK, so what else needs to be included in this project plan?’ I ask.
‘No one could ever accuse you of being overly romantic, could they, Cas?’ grins Issie wryly.
‘I just want to be well organized.’
She shrugs and then reverts to the bridal magazine; I revert to the wine bottle.
‘Well, for the service, civil or church, you need wedding rings and a form of service. You need to select music and readings. You’ll have to consider cars, photographers and guest accommodation. There is a lot to think about. You’ll need a guest list, and an acceptance list, lists of menus, lists of drink, gift lists. There are caterers to consider. You need to book a photographer and videographer. If I were you I’d decline my dad’s kind offer to bring his cinecamera along. It’s older than I am. What type of reception do you want?’
There’s only one type, isn’t there? The after-ceremony type.’
Issie rolls her eyes. ‘Sit-down meal, buffet, melon balls and chicken or something a little less traditional, Asian, sushi, Italian, Mexican? What about your silverware, napkins, menu design, flowers? Are you going to invite children? And if so, you should consider their menu and an entertainer. What about the favours, the balloons, the seating plan? Round tables or square ? Who’s going to sit in the seat that is traditionally saved for the father of the bride? Will you have speeches? Will you make one?’ She finally draws to a halt.
‘Oh, I see. Well, what do you think?’ This is the question Issie has been waiting to be asked all her life.
‘Well, if it were me, I’d want it to be sit-down and with a seating plan. I wouldn’t try to mix oldies and youngies – because that only works in books. I’d allow the people with things in common to sit together. I’d want tuna carpaccio, followed by tempura fish with chilli salad and Parmesan polenta and then summer berries, which I’d have stacked in huge mounds as table centrepieces. I wouldn’t have