Free A Vintage Wedding by Katie Fforde

the views were more far-reaching, across the Severn Plain to the hills beyond.
    Sarah pulled up at a gateway with ‘Spring Farm’ written on it. ‘What amazing views!’ said Beth.
    ‘You should see them from the farm!’ said Sarah. ‘As it’s not very far, do you mind going the rest of the way on your own? If I come I’ll have to talk to Eamon, April’s father, and it’ll make me horribly late.’
    ‘No, that’s fine,’ said Beth.
    ‘I’ll pick you up at three? April will give you something to eat, I’m sure. Sorry this is such a rush!’
    Having assured Sarah this was absolutely fine, Beth set off. She wasn’t exactly filled with trepidation but she did wonder what she’d find at the end of the farm drive on the top of the hill.
    The farmhouse was just round the corner and there was a young man on the doorstep. He was wearing overalls tucked into wellington boots and dark blond hair that curled slightly.
    ‘Hi!’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re Beth? Here about the wedding? April asked me to look out for you. She’s just upstairs.’
    ‘That’s me.’ The young man was looking at her in a way that said ‘interested’. As a barmaid she’d had her fair share of chatting up and casual dating but in spite of his working clothes, this guy had something about him. She smiled shyly.
    ‘Well, come in! I’ll give April a shout.’ He grinned. ‘I’m Charlie, her brother. I’ll put the kettle on, then I’m off. I’ll leave you to do the girly things.’
    Beth stepped into a little porch that led into a large kitchen that was obviously the centre of the house, where everything went on. She could tell no one had done anything about decorating it for several decades and it had an easy chaos about it. An open fire with a cream-coloured, crazed stove-enamel surround flickered, and at the back of the room Beth could see some sort of solid-fuel range. The place was definitely tatty and untidy but it was warm and comfortable and she relaxed a little.
    A young woman wearing a dressing gown, with long, curly brown hair round her shoulders, came into the room. ‘Are you Beth? I’m April. Sorry not to be dressed. I’ve been trying on my mother’s wedding dress. I’ll get my clothes on.’
    ‘Don’t do that!’ said Beth, seeing a solution to a major expense right there. ‘Let’s see your mother’s dress.’
    April shook her head. ‘Can’t get near it. My mother was tiny. I know I said I’d diet before the wedding but even if I starve myself I won’t lose two stone in a month.’
    Beth was firm. ‘Lindy – that’s Sarah’s daughter: do you know her? – she’s brilliant at making wedding dresses fit, and flatter. And the dress is a major expense in a wedding. If we could use your mother’s dress, even factoring in the alterations, that would save a lot of money.’
    April looked pained. ‘That’s what I thought but—’
    ‘Let’s have a look, shall we?’ said Beth.
    Beth followed April up a creaky staircase with faded floral walls, wondering if the house was wonderfully ‘vintage’ or dreadfully out of date, and deciding the former. There were patches where water had obviously come in at some point and the paintwork was chipped but it had a lovely ambience.
    It got better. April’s bedroom made Beth think of girls’ bedrooms described in the pony books she used to read so avidly as a child. The single bed was covered by a patchwork counterpane and there was a dark oak dressing table. Rosettes formed a frieze round the top of the rosy wallpaper and photographs of April on various horses covered the walls. Beth loved it. Her own girlhood bedroom had been designed by her mother. Pictures were only allowed on one section of wall and her mother had had a large say in which bands were featured.
    ‘What a lovely room!’
    ‘Do you think so?’ said April, surprised. ‘It’s dreadfully old-fashioned but I like it.’
    ‘It’s gorgeous!’ Beth looked around her and spotted horsey plaster