Posh Frocks & Peacocks - Tracie Podger Page 0,2

the date of the wedding added. I also had a small saltire. That was my something blue. The dress was the something old; something new was the sexy underwear. I just needed, something borrowed, and a sixpence for my shoe. Maggie was in charge of locating a sixpence. She had told me they had a little jar they’d put foreign or old coins in. Her foster children liked to use them when they played ‘shop.’ She was sure there were one or two in that jar. I’d originally hoped the peacocks could’ve been my borrowed items but that hope had fallen by the wayside.

“That’s such a London thing,” Maggie had said when I’d told her about my idea. “Hiring peacocks! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

I had laughed. “Well, you can in London, but, sadly, not here. Anyway, Joe has found a rescue centre that has some.” I raised my eyebrows at her in a ‘ah ha’ way.

“It would be lovely to see them on the lawn. We’ll be like those posh folks up the way,” she said. I had no idea who she was referring to, of course.

My aim was to have the grounds open for one month a year to visitors. We had started to create a wild garden and were thrilled to learn we had a lovely, rare species of butterfly inhabiting it. Already, we’d had a team of photographers and experts pitch up and see if they could capture them on film. I’d done the garden simply to bring the bees back, but if a by-product of that was five pounds entry per person to sit and wait, in the hopes they might get a photograph, then it was all good with me.

I’d also been asked many times from location scouts if we had peacocks. I guessed, that London lot thought it gave the estate some form of credibility if we had some. I laughed when they suggested a dovecote and I told them the local falcons would make short work of those. It had dawned on me at that point, I’d lost that townie thing and had morphed into a country girl. I still had a lot to learn, of course, and was yet to shoot my first live animal, but I was getting there. I’d watched Maggie pluck a bird and my first attempt had resulted in lots of feathers removed, but also lots of skin and some meat. There wasn’t much left to roast after that.

“Is Rich coming to the wedding?” Maggie asked.

“He hasn’t been invited. I think it’s best we don’t go there. Same with Gregg,” I said.

Ronan hadn’t spoken to his brother since the day he called, pretending to be in trouble and off to America for the funeral of his father. Nasty letters had gone back and forth between solicitors until Ronan had relented and sent his brother some of their mother’s artwork. He had been sure to pick out photographs and not the paintings. If Rich believed he was due half the value of the artwork, he could sell it and keep the money, Ronan had told us.

I hadn’t agreed it was the way forward, neither had the lawyers, of course. Rich hadn’t taken those images in full and final settlement either, and continued to try for more. In the end, it had taken a threat of harassment prosecution for him to back off. Although we hadn’t heard from him for a month, everyone in London sure had.

Ronan, at that point, reminded Rich he had a stake in his bar and he wanted out. Rich was expected to come up with Ronan’s initial stake, he wanted no more, and he was given a time limit to do so.

As for Gregg, it had been a foregone conclusion he wouldn’t be invited. The man had slept with Ronan’s first wife while he was still married to her. It made it awkward because Gregg was local but he didn’t seem to care, which was a blessing. I’d also given Ronan my permission to punch him on the nose if he did turn up and disrupt things.

There was a knock on the door. “Am I allowed in yet?” Ronan asked.

“No!” Maggie and I shouted in unison. The dress was lying on the bed alongside my new underwear.

He mumbled something about being turfed out of his own room and needing the bathroom. We then heard him stomp down the hall to another one. Ronan was a creature of habit; he only liked to