I should have known. Only Saffron would think being driven up the motorway in the back of luxurious limousine with tinted windows counted as an adventure.
‘I had no idea it would be so far,’ Saffron said and Roly gazed at her admiringly.
‘You must be exhausted.’
‘Oh, I am, but now that I’m here that doesn’t matter.’ Bravely, Saffron lifted her chin and managed a wobbly little smile.
Privately, I thought that my father’s chauffeur was likely to be more tired than Saffron, but I knew better than to say so. I cast another glance at the window. For now the heavy rain was holding off, but I really needed to be on the site.
It was George who poured out the coffee when it arrived and passed around the cups. Then he sprawled in the corner of the sofa, one arm along the back, long legs stretched at an angle towards me. I perched at the other end, pretending not to notice that if I leant back he would be able to touch my shoulder. He’d hardly have to move at all to stroke my hair, or let his fingers drift along my jaw.
My pulse kicked a little just at the thought of it.
Annoyed with myself, I inched further along until I was pressed against the arm of the sofa. Why was I even thinking about George? I had more important problems to deal with.
‘So, Saffron.’ I cleared my throat and set my cup and saucer on the table between the two sofas. ‘What exactly is the problem with Buffy?’
‘She’s not going to be here for my wedding!’ said Saffron, eyes glistening with remembered outrage. ‘She met this guy when she was skiing in Aspen earlier this year, and she thought it was just, like, a holiday romance, but yesterday he rang her and asked her to go back and marry him, and she’s like, yes, I’m changing my life, so she’s going next week.’
Crushed by the unfairness of it all, Saffron subsided back into the cushions, her beautiful mouth trembling.
‘What a shame,’ said Roly loyally and patted her hand.
I was irritatingly aware of George’s hand just inches away. He was just sitting there, not doing anything but still making the air hum with an energy that made my scalp shrink alarmingly and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Not to mention making it almost impossible to concentrate.
‘Well, that’s OK, isn’t it?’ I had to feel my way cautiously. This wasn’t quite how I had anticipated demonstrating my negotiating skills to the client, but Roly was paying close attention and was so obviously smitten with Saffron that I would have to be careful. ‘I mean, it’s quite romantic, isn’t it?’
‘What about my wedding? How am I going to manage without my chief bridesmaid?’
‘Can’t one of your other bridesmaids do it?’ The last time I had been involved in exhaustive bridesmaid negotiations, Saffron had planned on at least six.
‘There’s no one suitable.’
I was losing patience. ‘Being chief bridesmaid doesn’t call for great management skills,’ I said. ‘It’s not exactly life and death stuff, is it?’
A mistake. Saffron’s emerald eyes flashed and she bounced up indignantly on the cushions. ‘Are you saying my wedding’s not important?’
‘Well, it’s not—’ A casual nudge against my knee by George’s foot made me pause, and realise that I was going about this quite the wrong way. ‘I mean, of course it’s important for you,’ I amended with a quick glance at Roly. ‘I just thought one of the other 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 understand why you can’t understand that!’
‘Then