Guy hadn’t gone back to law. He’d known he’d be good at this, but right there and then he’d vowed that he’d be a corporate success. Their deaths had been crazy and unnecessary. No one was going to throw wedding planner at him as a term of derision.

He worked hard. He kept to himself. He made money and he carefully didn’t know people. His life decisions would never hurt anyone again.

He had become exclusive.

The telephone cut the stillness, and he welcomed it. He motioned Jenny to answer, then picked up a catalogue to flick through while she spoke.

Here were Bridal Fluff weddings over the past few years, catalogued down to the last ghastly feather.

He flicked through. And paused.

One bridal couple smiled out from the pages, dressed like a pair from the set of Cabaret. He looked more closely, taking in details of the setting.

The whole theme was Cabaret.

It was actually rather good. It’d be good even as a Carver Wedding.

He flicked through a bit more. Fluff, fluff…But every now and then something different.

There were just a few weddings in here that showed talent. He glanced up at Jenny, and she was smiling and making hand signals. A second phone lay on the reception desk. She was motioning to him to lift it.

He lifted it and listened.

‘…be there for Christmas. About three hundred people. Barret’s pulled strings and found someone who’ll marry them, so you don’t need to worry about the licence. All we need you to do is to turn a Christmas feast into a wedding feast. I’ll outline details in my fax. The most important thing is that Anna needs a wedding gown, and she’s caught up on location until she gets on the plane. But she trusts Carver implicitly. If he approves it, it’ll be fine. There’ll be six bridesmaids and six groomsmen. I’ll fax through sizes. Anna’s only stipulation is that she’d like a traditional wedding-the same as she saw at home when she was a little girl.’ The woman hesitated. ‘She said something about pink tulle.’