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already laid for the wedding banquet.
    Peggy couldn’t stop herself yawning. She had hardly slept a wink, thinking of Kitty leaving.
    The minute Mrs O’Connor stepped into the kitchen it was as if the whole household staff were sucked into a whirlwind.
    Young Simon was sent up and down the stairs with cups of lemon tea for the ladies. He provided the kitchen staff with a running account of the goings-on upstairs: ‘Momma has the vapours’; ‘Roxanne says she thinks her feet have swollen and her shoes are too small’; ‘Pappa is unable to find his new collar buttons!’
    Mrs Whitman, the housekeeper, supervised the delivery of fresh flowers, cooled white wine, and last-minute wedding gifts and tokens, as well as showing the Rowan cousins, who had arrived to stay, to their rooms.
    Luckily, Peggy caught Bonaparte, the scamp of a dog, hiding under the heavy linen tablecloth chewing a bit of old bone! Wouldn’t that be a fine to-do for one of the guests, to put their hand down to pick up a napkin and discover a mouldy old dog’s bone!
    ‘Go outside, you bad dog!’ shouted Peggy, and she watched as he scampered across the dining room and out through the french doors.
    By mid-day steam ran down the kitchen walls and dripped onto the floor. Peggy had a go at it every now and then with the mop, but it was a waste of effort. All the doors were open in the hope of catching some little bit of cooling breeze.
    No expense had been spared and there were joints of beef roasting, chicken coated in white, creamy sauce and lobster dripping in butter. There were baby new potatoes, corn and greens and all sorts of vegetables. No guest would leave the wedding table hungry – Mrs O’Connor had made sure of that. She surveyed the laden side-tables, where tarts and frosted cakes and heavy fruitcakes, sodden with brandy, fought for attention. Well satisfied, the cook beckoned to Peggy.
    ‘I’m going up to change, Peggy, you keep an eye on things here.’ Mrs O’Connor’s blouse clung damply to her plump folds of skin and her face was hot and flushed with all the cooking. Peggy took the opportunity to flop down on a stool near the back door.
    After a little while Mrs O’Connor returned, looking refreshed and wearing a crisp white cotton blouse. ‘That’s a bit better, Peggy, I feel like a new woman now. Come on, Miss Roxanne is dressed and ready.’
    The cook and Peggy stepped out into the crowded hallway just as the bride came down the winding, polished stairs.
    Peggy had to admit that Roxanne Rowan looked for all the world like an angel on this her wedding day. Her blond hair hung in soft waves around her face, the back part coiled and looped around a spray of rosebuds. Her dress was pure, soft, cream silk with tiny pearl buttons up the front and from cuff to elbow. The material clung to Roxanne’s slim figure and swept back in folds at her feet. Her skin shone and her eyes were full of happiness.
    An ‘Aah!’ of pleasure filled the air as the assembled household staff took in her beauty.
    ‘Good luck, Miss Roxanne!’ beamed Mrs O’Connor, hugging her.
    ‘Every happiness to you and Mister Fletcher Parker,’ said Miss Whitman, her thin face eager as she shook the bride’s hand.
    Peggy stood transfixed. It was her turn. Normally she would just mumble and say as little as possible to the girl who had once made her life so miserable – the girl who had teased and jeered her and even accused her of stealing. A slight blush of colour came into the other girl’s cheeks. Peggy lifted her eyes to meet the pale blue of Roxanne’s. There she saw happiness and hope and nervousness and sadness all jumbled together.They were no longer enemies.
    ‘I wish you happiness and many, many good things in the future, Miss Roxanne, I really do!’ said Peggy warmly.
    Roxanne smiled. ‘Thank you, Peggy, I appreciate it,’ she said, shaking Peggy’s hand before moving on to the next person.
    Peggy blinked, surprised at herself. She really