thirty-four
The wedding party left the registry office in a fleet of cars destined for Phillipa and Sunil’s house. Their gargantuan back garden had been transformed into a fairytale scene of bobbing balloon hearts and exquisite floral displays. The hundred or so guests were mingling in their poshest attire, sipping champagne, the women’s heels sinking in the damp summer earth.
Above the laughter and chatter rose a crescendo of animal sounds competing with a live string quartet. The horses and goats in the neighbouring field were whinnying with excitement. The blast of the farmer’s shotgun as he hunted pheasant, resounded in the air. Elizabeth snorted at the sight of Phillipa’s greyhound c*****g his leg at the entrance flap to the startling white marquee. When a member of the waiting staf
