WHEN RAFFERTY GOT HOME that evening, he an Abra sat down and thrashed out their wedding arrangements.
They’d already agreed on the venues for the ceremony and reception, and they’d paid a deposit on the honeymoon cottage. All that remained was the rest of it.
Rafferty quickly agreed to drop his choice of photographer; even he had to admit that a man who shot pictures of houses for a living wasn’t ideal. He acknowledged it had been a daft idea. It was the desire to keep the costs down that had spurred him on, and which had led to their three-month split. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
‘Who did Llewellyn use at his and Mo’s wedding?’ he asked.
‘They’re no good. They were booked up solid when I rang them.’
‘Try them again, anyway. There’s many a slip between the proposal and the we
