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A Wedding at Leopard Tree Lodge / Three Times A Bridesmaid…. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.

A Wedding at Leopard Tree Lodge / Three Times A Bridesmaid… - Nicola Marsh


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Rra! It is good to see you!’

      ‘Francis!’

      He clasped the hand of the man who emerged from the shadows to greet him with a broad smile of welcome.

      ‘It has been a very long time, Rra, but we always hoped you’d come…’ His smile quickly became concern. ‘You are hurt?’

      ‘It’s nothing,’ he said, catching his breath as he climbed down. ‘I’m a bit stiff, that’s all. Too many days travelling. How is your family?’ he asked, not wanting to think about the tight, agonising pain in his lower back. Or its cause.

      ‘They are good. If you have time, they will be pleased to see you.’

      ‘I have some books for your children,’ Gideon said, turning to take his bag from the back seat. He spent half his life on the move and travelled light but, as he tried to lift it, it felt like lead.

      ‘Leopards?’ Josie repeated. ‘Aren’t they incredibly dangerous?’

      ‘Oh, these are just cubs. A local man has raised a couple of orphans and he’s bringing them along on the day. All you’ll have to do is tie ribbons around their necks.’

      ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then.’ Maybe. She had a cat and even when Cleo was a kitten her claws were needle-sharp…

      ‘The wedding is going to be held at Leopard Tree Lodge, you see?’ Marji told her. ‘It’s a fabulous game-viewing lodge. Utter luxury in the wilderness. To be honest, I totally envy you the opportunity to spend time there.’

      ‘Well, golly,’ she said, as if she, too, couldn’t believe her luck.

      ‘You won’t even have to leave your private deck to view the big game. None of that racketing about in a four-wheel drive getting covered in dust. You can simply sit in your own private plunge pool and watch elephants cavorting below you in an oxbow lake while you sip a glass of chilled bubbly.’

      ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Josie replied wryly, recognising a quote from a tourist brochure when she heard one. Marji might believe that she was offering her a luxury, all expenses paid holiday; she knew that once on site she wouldn’t have a minute to spare to draw breath, let alone dally in a plunge pool admiring the view.

      Relaxation in the run-up to a wedding was the sole privilege of the bride and good luck to her. Although, with half a dozen issues of Celebrity to fill with pictures, even she wasn’t going to have a lot of down time before, or during, the big day.

      For the person charged with the responsibility of ensuring that everything ran smoothly it was going to be a very hard day at the office, although in this instance it wouldn’t be her own calm, ordered space, where everything she needed was no more than a phone call away.

      As she knew from experience, even the best organised weddings had the potential for last minute disasters and in the wilds of Botswana there would be none of the backup services she was usually able to call on in an emergency.

      And it would take more than a look to stop a leopard disturbing the party. Even a baby leopard.

      ‘There’s nothing like being covered in dust to put a crimp in your day,’ she added as, with the ‘where’ dealt with, she confronted a rather more pressing problem.

      Unless the word ‘wilderness’ was simply travel brochure hyperbole—and the reference to elephants sloshing about in the river at her feet suggested otherwise—there wasn’t going to be an international airport handy.

      ‘How is everyone going to get there?’

      ‘We’ve booked an air charter company to handle all the local transport,’ Marji assured her. ‘You don’t have to worry about that—’

      ‘I worry about everything, Marji.’ Including the proximity of elephants. And the damage potential of a pair of overexcited leopard cubs. ‘It’s why SDS weddings run so smoothly.’

      ‘Well, quite. If Sylvie’s company wasn’t so highly thought of we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’ She paused, her train of thought disrupted. ‘Where was I?’

      ‘Transport?’ Josie prompted, doing her best to keep a lid on her rising irritation.

      ‘Oh, yes. Serafina was due to fly out first thing tomorrow. You heard what happened?’

      The official version was that Serafina March, society wedding ‘designer’—nothing as common as ‘planner’ for her—and self-proclaimed ‘wedding queen’ who had been given the awesome responsibility of planning this event, had been struck down by a virus.

      Insider gossip had it that Crystal had thrown a strop, declaring that she’d rather get married in a sack at the local register office than put up with another moment with ‘that snooty cow’ looking down her nose at her.

      Having been looked down on by Serafina herself on more than one occasion, Josie knew exactly how she felt.

      ‘How is Serafina?’

      ‘Recovering. It’s just a shame she can’t be there, especially when she’s put her heart and soul into this wedding.’ Then, having got that off her chest, she proceeded briskly, ‘The bride’s party will be flying out the following day but Tal has a number of official engagements in the capital so he and Crystal won’t arrive until the next evening. Plenty of time for you to run through everything before they arrive so that you can iron out any last minute snags.’

      ‘Since there’s so little to do, maybe I could leave it until the day after tomorrow?’ Josie suggested, unable to help herself.

      ‘Better safe than sorry. This is going to be a fairly intimate wedding. Leopard Tree Lodge is a small and exclusive safari camp, however, so we’ve chartered a river boat to accommodate the overflow.’

      Wilderness, water and wild animals—three things guaranteed to send shivers down the spine of the average event planner. And there was also the word ‘camp’—not exactly reassuring.

      No matter how ‘luxurious’ the brochure declared it to be, a tent was still a tent.

      When she didn’t rush to exclaim with excitement, gush at the honour being bestowed on her, Marji said, ‘All the hard work has been done, Josie.’

      All the interesting work.

      The planning. The design. Choosing food, music, clothes, colour scheme, flowers. The shopping trips with a bride whose credit never ran out.

      ‘You just need me to ensure that everything runs smoothly,’ Josie said.

      ‘Uh-oh!’ Emma’s eyebrows hit her hairline as she picked up on the edge she hadn’t been able to keep out of her voice, but being patronised by Marji Hayes really was more than flesh and blood could stand.

      ‘Absolutely. Serafina’s organised everything down to the last detail.’ The wretched woman had a skin as thick as a rhinoceros. It would take more than an ‘edge’; it would take a damn great axe to make an impression. ‘I just need someone to ensure her design is carried through. Check that all her wonderful detail is in place so that our photographers can get great shots for the series of features we have planned. Exactly what you’d do for Sylvie.’

      ‘And ensure that the bride and groom have their perfect day?’ she offered, unable to stop herself from reminding Marji that this was about more than a skirmish in her circulation war with the growing number of lifestyle magazines on the market.

      ‘What? Oh, yes,’ she said dismissively. Then, ‘We’re running out of time on this, Josie. I’ll email the flight details and courier the files over to your office. You can read them on the plane.’

      It was the opportunity of a lifetime but she’d been insulted, subtly and not so subtly, so many times in the last ten minutes that she refused to do what was expected and simply roll over.

      ‘To be honest,’ she said, her


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