Chapter Sixteen
THE LATE PETER ALLBRIGHT wasn’t the only person to suffer despair. When Rafferty arrived home at getting on for nine o’clock that evening, he found Abra in similar straits, though from a different cause.
‘My arty photographer rang me earlier. He told me he’s double-booked for our day. He’s got a big society wedding on the second Saturday in June. Guess who won his services? Not us, that’s for sure. He can’t even do the alternative date you said Father Kelly offered us. I’ve contacted every photographer in the area and none of them can do either day.’
‘There must be one, surely? Are you certain you’ve tried them all?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve been through the yellow pages and not one of them can give me a firm booking. A couple said they’d put me in their diary in case
