The reception room looked as if the wedding had been shaken out of a bag.
There were empty boxes under every table. Glass jars waited beside bundles of ribbon. Painted panels, empty frames and coiled string lights stood against the wall, borrowed from Lena's display supplies. A long strand of paper leaves lay on the floor, with one end trapped beneath a chair. Lena recognised all of it, including the things Bea had said she wouldn't need.
'The hotel was supposed to do these,' Bea said.
'They will. They've got all morning tomorrow.'
'But they might do them wrong.'
'You could tell them how to do them right.'
Bea gave her a look. Lena put down her tea and took off her coat.
They had chosen sea green and yellow. Now Bea wanted to know whether yellow had been a mistake. It looked too much like Easter, she said. Lena placed one of the painted card stands beside a jar and tucked in a strand of paper leaves.
'It looks like that photograph you sent me. The one of the boats.'
'It does, doesn't it?' Bea stood back. 'Maybe less ribbon.'
'You bought eighty metres of it.'
'I got frightened.'
Lena laughed. Bea smiled, then reached for a box of candles. It was what they did: Bea brought an impossible heap of things, Lena found a shape inside it. At the cinema, she spent days getting permission to move a piece of board. Here she could just move it.
She dragged a chair across and stood on it to loosen the trapped paper strand. Bea held the chair, firmly, although Lena wasn't wobbling.
'How are you and Tom?'
Lena pulled the leaves free. 'Why?'
'You were talking to Kit.'
'He said hello.'
'For quite a long time.'
Lena climbed down. 'You invited him.'
'I know. Owen likes him. And he's my friend as well, obviously. I wasn't asking you to ignore him.'
'What were you asking?'
Bea took the leaves from her. 'I'm a bit on edge. Have you told him anything? About you and Tom?'
'I haven't told you anything about me and Tom.'
'No, well. That's why I'm asking.' She wound the torn end round her finger. 'I want you to have a nice weekend.'
Lena looked at her friend. 'I'll help with the tables. I won't fight with anybody. Is that enough?'
Bea's mouth tightened, then she nodded. 'Yes. Sorry. I'm being weird.'
They worked for a few minutes without talking. Lena put the small card stands in groups of ten. Bea changed the groups to eight, then remembered two guests had cancelled and changed them again.
Owen came in with a drill. He had washed the mark off his shirt, leaving a damp patch where it had been.
'Fixed,' he announced. 'No one will have to eat on the floor.'
'Which table was it?' Bea asked.
'The one at the back. It was only the legs.'
She went to test it. Owen waited beside Lena, holding the drill against his thigh.
'Is she eating?' he asked quietly.
'I've only just got here.'
'I've offered her lunch twice. She keeps saying she's had lunch, but I saw the lunch. It was three almonds.'
'Order her chips. Put them where she can reach them.'
He nodded, as if this was sound advice about a difficult repair.
Bea called him over. There was a pale scrape down the table leg. He crouched to look, and she bent beside him with one hand on his shoulder. Lena watched them argue gently about whether anyone would see it under a tablecloth.
She had been on Bea's first date with Owen, in a manner of speaking. Bea had sent photographs of two outfits, then a third. Afterwards she had called Lena from outside a kebab shop to say he was probably the nicest man she had ever met and she'd spilt sauce down herself. Eighteen months later, here they were.
Owen got up. 'I was going to cover it anyway.'
'I know. I'm just looking.'
'You look very hard.'
Bea put her arms around his neck. He kissed her, one quick kiss which became a second when she wouldn't let him go. Lena returned to the place cards.
'I need you for five minutes later,' Bea told him. 'After the rehearsal. We've got to check the music.'
'The first dance?'
'All of it.'
Owen looked at Lena. 'She doesn't trust my choice.'
'You chose it together,' Bea said.
'I chose it. You made me choose another one.'
'And then we chose it together.'
Lena smiled. 'Democracy.'
Owen lifted his drill. 'There's another thing coming tomorrow. For Bea. It should be finished tonight.'
Bea went still for a moment, arms dropping from his shoulders.
'You've shown me enough,' she said. 'You don't have to make a production of it.'
'It's not a production. It's a present.'
'What is it?' Lena asked.
'A surprise,' Owen said.
'He's shown me the outside,' Bea said quickly. 'It's beautiful. I just don't want him chasing things when he should be enjoying today.'
Owen touched her chin with the back of one finger. 'I'm enjoying it.'
Tom appeared in the doorway carrying two glasses of water. He gave one to Lena, and she realised how thirsty she was.
'I thought you'd still be in here.'
'I'm doing the work I'm paid for,' she said.
'You're not paid.'
'I'm beginning to notice.'
He looked at the painted stands. 'They look good. Better than that haunted-cinema thing.'
'That was meant to be haunted.'
'I know. It frightened the delivery driver.'
Bea laughed too loudly. Then she checked her watch.
'Tom, can I show you something while they're doing this?'
He glanced at Lena. She had already started on another table.
'Sure.'
Bea led him to the other end of the room, beyond the folded partitions. She had her phone out. Lena could hear the murmur of their voices but no words. Bea pointed towards a spot by the windows. Tom nodded, studying it with his hand under his chin.
He had not looked at her that way when he brought her the water. Serious, attentive, as though something mattered very much.
Lena put the card marked Nia beside the one marked Kit. There was no reason not to. Bea had written the names in advance.
'Could you hold this a moment?' Owen asked.
He had brought a tablecloth and was trying to spread it alone. Lena took the far corners. They shook it once; air filled it, lifted it, and let it sink over the scratched table.
At the windows, Tom smiled. Bea touched his elbow and said something else into his ear.
Lena let go of the cloth too early. One corner slid onto the floor.
'Sorry,' she said, picking it up.
'It's all right.' Owen took a step back. 'We'll get there.'