‘Yes, my dear, but what she has to realise is that this isn’t just her day, it’s yours too.’ Her big punch almost landed, but just in time, I followed David’s example and dived behind a smokescreen of steak and kidney.
Prim’s father has a remarkable metabolism. If I ate lunches like that on a regular basis, I’d have trouble fitting into Everett’s living room, yet he manages to stay slim and straight-backed. I have come to suspect that he has developed a method of burning off calories by pure concentration; this might explain why he’s such a quiet, unworldly bloke.
I made it through the treacle pudding and coffee without giving any ground, but I knew that what had happened up to that point came under the heading of mere skirmishing. The real battle would be fought at Gleneagles.
Our appointment there was set for two-thirty p.m.; I thought of asking whether David would like to join us, but that would have been unkind of me and potentially dangerous for him. So Elanore and I set off together in the Freelander — she’s a big woman, not built for a Z3.
We were greeted in the foyer of the majestic, baronial hotel by the functions manager and her young male assistant. ‘Mr Blackstone,’ the middle-aged lady exclaimed, hand outstretched, ‘welcome to our hotel. And welcome also. .’ I introduced Elanore.
‘Ah, the mother of the bride. How nice that your daughter can rely on you at this time.’
I decided that I’d better take a grip of this meeting from the start. ‘I take it that you’ve had a chance to consider my fiancee’s e-mail setting out our requirements.’
‘Yes, we have. We have some thoughts on them. Let’s start with the date.’ She led us through to a small office behind reception. ‘This is fairly short notice, you understand,’ she said, showing us to seats round a small conference table. ‘We’re heavily booked, as always, but we can offer you a function suite on the first Saturday in November, if you can be ready in time. Beyond that there’s nothing until February.’
‘That will be fine,’ I said.
‘Excellent. I had you pencilled in for that, so I’ll confirm it this afternoon. Now, there’s one thing I want to raise with you. Ms Phillips’ e-mail said that you want a buffet reception. That’s quite unusual for a wedding.’
‘Indeed,’ Elanore concurred, by my side. ‘Perhaps you could offer suggestions for a formal meal.’
The manager nodded. ‘We anticipated that, Madam.’ She nodded to her assistant, who delved into a big, leather-bound folder and produced several sheets. ‘We have some sample menus here.’ The young man handed them straight to Elanore.
‘And the buffet menus, please,’ I said, with a smile, holding out my hand.
‘Certainly, sir.’ He produced several more sheets and handed them over.
‘As to the wedding ceremony itself,’ his boss continued, speaking more to Prim’s mum than to me, ‘we’ll have theatre-style seating for that in your suite, then give you a small break-out area for drinks while we set up for the meal.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said grabbing the baton once again, ‘and for a buffet set-up you can serve drinks straightaway and simply move the seats around the walls.’
‘Yes,’ said the woman. I forced her to look at me. ‘The thing is, you see,’ I continued, ‘my fiancee, as her mother would be the second person to tell you, is a very determined person. And the thing is, also, so am I. We want all of our guests to be comfortable and relaxed.
‘There are two guys coming to our wedding who weigh a third of a ton between them. Either one of them could eat your chef, tall hat and all, if he felt peckish. We don’t want that to happen, so what we need is the best hot and cold buffet you can provide. There will be forty guests, so if you cater for fifty, that will allow for our large friends.’
There was a chilly silence beside me, but we were in the last round, and I knew I had to go for a clean knock-out. This wasn’t a GWA wrestling match, this was serious stuff.
‘We want you to serve Krug after the ceremony, then Premier Cru Chablis and a good Fleurie with the buffet. When we reach the coffee stage, there should be a fully stocked bar available.’
‘On a cash basis, sir?’ The young assistant asked, looking up from his notes.
‘Don’t be silly. These are our friends, and our guests.’
‘Dancing, sir,’ the manager interrupted. ‘What about dancing?’
‘No dancing, thank you. The thought of Jerry Gradi doing the Twist just beggars belief. If he side-swiped someone with his arse, it would be a hospital case. We know our friends, we know ourselves, and we want everyone to be relaxed.’ I paused, and looked at Elanore.
‘Most of all, I want. . I want Primavera to have the day of her life, and I will see that she does.’
I turned back to the manager. ‘Are you clear on all of that?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, Mr Blackstone, we’ll meet all of your wishes.’
‘Good. Send us a cost projection as soon as you can.’ I took out my cheque-book. ‘In the meantime, let me leave you a deposit. Two grand be enough?’
‘Quite enough. We’ll look forward to seeing you on the day.’
‘You’ll be seeing me the night before,’ I said. ‘I want you to reserve a suite for me, and another for my best man, Mr Dylan and his partner, Ms Gantry. I will yield to one tradition, that I shouldn’t see the bride just before the wedding.’
Chapter 33
‘I could say that my daughter has you well trained, Oz,’ said Elanore, back in the kitchen at Semple House. The drive back from Gleneagles had been silent, and I had felt guilty for every moment of it about having to sock it to her in the way I had.
‘I could say that,’ she continued, ‘but I won’t, because it wouldn’t be true. You’re your own man and you understand Primavera better than anyone she’s ever known.’ She smiled. ‘You handled me beautifully too. When Prim told me that you were coming up to make the arrangements I thought I had a chance. I should have known better.’
She held out a hand. ‘Here; you’d better give me back that guest list. She’d just tear it up anyway.’
I gave a relieved laugh and handed back the envelope which she had forced on me earlier. As I did so, David came into the room. He looked at us, from one to the other as if checking for bloodstains. ‘Business done?’ he asked. ‘Arrangements made?’
‘Yes,’ Elanore answered. ‘I’m even looking forward to it.’
‘Thank God for that,’ he exclaimed. It was the most emphatic thing I’d ever heard him say.
He turned to me. ‘Oz, I could do with a walk. I expect you could too, after that lunch. Care to join me before you head back to Glasgow?’
‘Sure.’ I agreed at once; I had never been in the company of Prim’s Dad outside his own home. Just as I’m very fond of Elanore, so I’ve liked David Phillips, retired furniture maker turned wood-carver, from the moment I met him, but I found him a hard man to get to know. He’s the antithesis of my own father, who wears everything on the outside.
I’d discussed him with Miles, and I knew that he was no closer to him than I. So, although I had planned to head straight back to Glasgow, I jumped at the chance of a wander around Auchterarder with him.
It was a pleasant afternoon as we stepped out of the gate of Semple House, into the street. The Perthshire town has two claims to fame; one is Gleneagles, which is truly one of the world’s finest hotels, while the other centres around its assertion that it has the longest Main Street in Scotland. That’s why they call it the ‘Lang Toun’.
Semple House is right on the edge of Auchterarder; it turned out that David’s plan was to walk the length of the legendary street and back again — a fair hike, but we both had the fuel for it.
We walked in silence for a while, until I began to think that conversation wasn’t on the agenda at all. So when David did speak, it took me by surprise for a second. ‘I’ve always found that there are two ways to handle Elanore when she has her mind set on something,’ he burst out, with no preamble. ‘One is to have a screaming row, and the other is to capitulate.