CHAPTER TWENTY

Rose had planned to wake extra early on the day of the wedding to make sure she had everything under control but she’d had a late one the night before, giving the restaurant a final clean, and had slept heavily. Which meant she was now groggily staring at the clock, trying to make sense of the glowing green numbers.

‘Bugger,’ she said as they registered in her brain. ‘Mark,’ she wailed, shaking the sleeping form next to her. ‘It’s 8.15. How on earth could we have overslept? Why didn’t the alarm go off?’

Mark grumbled and turned over. Since vintage had finished he’d taken his foot off the accelerator. He’d had a late wine dinner in New Bridgeton the previous night and Rose hadn’t even heard him come in. She was surprised the kids hadn’t woken her either, but as they got older they were getting better at creeping downstairs and putting the TV on before Astrid arrived.

She tried to rouse him. ‘Did you arrange for the wine to be delivered?’

‘Mmmmn hmmn.’

Rose took that as a yes. She leapt out of bed and raced to the shower, frantically running through the day’s plans in her head. The ceremony was at noon, and the two extra staff she’d hired to help out were due at Trevelyn’s at 8.30. The restaurant was only five minutes’ drive away, which gave her about ten minutes to shower and dress. Breakfast would have to wait.

Hair dripping from a hurried shower – it still had a stubborn tinge of purple about it – she bolted out the door, pausing only to say a hurried good morning to Astrid and the children, who were having breakfast in the kitchen. Max blew a gobbet of cereal at Rose as she waved at him. Her phone beeped. A text message from Gabriella, checking all was on track and asking if the cake, which was being delivered from Amazing Cakes, confectioner of choice of the Sydney social set, had arrived.

Rose made a mental note to check on it as soon as she arrived at Trevelyn’s.

Thankfully, calm prevailed for the rest of the morning. Jen and Lesley, two of the mums from Leo’s school who’d come over from Eumeralla to help out, got started on the entrée while Rose trimmed the beef fillets. The florist had arrived, the back of his van filled with hothouse peonies, and he was sculpting table arrangements out in the restaurant. Rose’s phone beeped. Gabriella checking on the cake again. Rose’s hand flew to her forehead. Bugger. She’d forgotten to chase it up. She glanced at her phone. Ten o’clock. They were cutting it fine. She knew that the cake wasn’t really her problem – Gabriella had organised it herself, but it wasn’t a wedding without a cake and it was a point of personal pride for Rose that there should be no last-minute dramas.

Noon arrived. The cake still hadn’t, though Rose had been assured that the driver was on his way. She covered for them, texting Gabriella to say that all was under control. The last thing any bride needed was to worry about that on her wedding day.

Unlike the cake, the groom had arrived and was standing awkwardly in the gardens, flanked by two best men, all in dark suits, shoes polished to a high shine. Peering out from the open kitchen, Rose could also see Gabriella’s mother, Susan, with an attractive redheaded woman who looked to be in her early forties, wearing a flowered tea dress and clutching a clipboard to her chest. She must be the celebrant.

‘All set?’ Rose looked at her two extra kitchen staff, who nodded their agreement. Lesley’s eldest daughter, Olivia, had agreed to help out the regular waitstaff, and was making adjustments to the place settings. The glassware sparkled and the flowers perfumed the room. Rose was satisfied. Or at least she would be if the damned cake had arrived. She had no idea how she was going to conjure one up out of thin air with only minutes to go. She looked in vain in the coolroom. At a push, she could send out a fruit salad, but she knew that wouldn’t impress the bride one tiny bit.

*

A classical guitarist played a ballad under the verandah and guests – there were no more than fifty of them, Susan had assured her – had begun to arrive, spilling out onto the verandah and into the garden. Rose caught sight of a few familiar faces, including Jake. She hadn’t realised that he was a friend of Gabriella’s, but then she shouldn’t have been surprised. He seemed to know most of the women between eighteen and eighty in the valley and beyond.

Only the bride was left to make her appearance. And the wretched cake.

Rose’s mobile trilled again. The delivery van was in Eumeralla and would be there within half an hour. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. Going to the front of the restaurant, she saw Gabriella approaching on the arm of an older man – her father, Rose presumed. She was wrapped in a swathe of white satin and lace and clutching an enormous bouquet of peonies. Rose saw her frown and tug the back of her dress, which had caught on the steps to the restaurant.

‘Here, let me help you,’ said Rose, rushing forward before she tore the fine satin.

‘Oh Christ, I haven’t ruined it, have I?’ Gabriella fussed nervously.

Rose unhooked the gown and stood back. ‘It’s fine. No damage done. You look stunning.’

Rose, who always cried at weddings, even at those of people she didn’t know very well, teared up. She thought of herself in white, surrounded by the people she loved most in the world, gazing up into Mark’s eyes … Get a grip, she scolded herself, dashing away a tear. Mark had already been down that path and it hadn’t ended well for him. She couldn’t see him being in a hurry to repeat the experience. She knew she should be content that they were so happy together the way things were, but a part of her still wanted the fantasy, the special day wearing a beautiful dress with all of their friends gathered around …

She raced back to the kitchen to oversee the final preparations.

‘Love’s young dream, huh? I give it less than five years,’ said Lesley, chewing on a piece of leftover baguette as they surreptitiously watched the ceremony taking place out in the garden. ‘My Damo knew her at school. Queen Bee, she thought she was. It’ll take a stronger man than David Bale to stand up to her.’

‘Aw, don’t be so negative, Les,’ said Rose. ‘You never can tell.’

‘Yeah, well, a leopard doesn’t change its spots, does it?’ said Lesley. ‘You’re a hopeless romantic, you are, Rose.’

‘They’re knocking back the wine quick enough,’ said Olivia later, coming into the kitchen with an armful of empty plates. The conversation had risen from a gentle hum to a full-blown roar, the noise level increasing with the amount of wine being drunk by the guests.

‘I’ll get another case from the coolroom,’ said Rose, wiping her hands on a cloth. On her way out, Rose heard a frantic knocking coming from the bathrooms.

‘Hey. Hey! Hallo! Can anyone hear me?’

The voice hovered between annoyed and exasperated. Rose hurried over to see what was going on. Swinging open the door to the Ladies, she was assaulted by a waft of Shalimar. The same perfume her mother used to wear. She was knocked sideways by a sudden longing for England, her family. Perhaps she should go back for a visit next time Mark had a trip there? It had been too long. She wondered if Astrid could move in and look after the kids while they were gone …

But there was no time for nostalgia. It seemed the celebrant had got stuck in a stall. Rose could see her wide-eyed face peeking out between the top of the door and the ceiling. She must have been standing on the loo. Rose glanced down at the floor. A pair of dark trousers crumpled over well-polished shoes were clearly visible. Ohhh-kay, she thought, taking a moment to assess the scene.

‘Oh, thank goodness. I, um, we … seem to be stuck.’ The woman was trying to maintain a vestige of dignity.

Rose suppressed the giggle that threatened to bubble up. ‘I see. Have you tried the catch?’

‘Yes, of course we have. It’s jammed.’

‘I’ll be right back.’

‘What? You’re not leaving us here?’

‘Just for a sec. I’ve got to get something to undo the lock.’

‘Well hurry, please!’

Rose returned bearing a couple of screwdrivers of different sizes, forcing herself to keep a straight face. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll unscrew it from this side and we’ll have you out in a jiffy.’ Rose was able to remove the screws and wiggle the lock apart.

‘Oh, thank you so much,’ the celebrant said, holding the door firmly as Rose freed it. ‘But we’ll take it from here. We’re just fixing up a pair of trousers.’

I bet you are, Rose thought.

The man inside the cubicle had been silent the entire time. Clearly whoever it was didn’t want his identity to be discovered. Rose needed to get back to the kitchen so she left them to it, chuckling to herself. More went on in the sleepy Shingle Valley than she sometimes gave it credit for. It wasn’t until she was back in the kitchen and looked out into the busy restaurant that she noticed who else was missing from the room.

Jake Salmon.

She smirked. It wasn’t exactly surprising.

Five minutes before the cake was due to be cut, and after several panicked phone calls from Rose, Amazing Cakes finally arrived, screeching to a halt outside the restaurant. Rose and Lesley raced out to meet them. ‘Couldn’t bloody find the place,’ the driver offered without an apology.

Amazing Cakes certainly lived up to its name, Rose grudgingly admitted, admiring the three-tiered confection studded with pale pink icing-sugar peonies. A tiny, sugar-paste bride and groom, flanked somewhat incongruously by two miniature penguins, sat atop the final tier. Apparently the happy couple had met in Antarctica, according to the delivery driver.

As Rose wheeled the cake out to a chorus of ‘aahs’ from the guests, a voice rang out, loud enough to stop traffic – or at least the hubbub of conversation in the room. ‘What’s with the freakin’ penguins?’

Gabriella had got stuck into the champagne, alright.

Susan’s eyes widened at Rose and she frantically shook her head.

Uh-oh. Rose did a swift about-turn with the trolley, returned to the kitchen and pulled the offending sea birds off the top of the cake. Perhaps they hadn’t met in Antarctica after all.