The two girls who helped her with wedding flowers were sitting with her. They had a long piece of rope lined up on trestle tables in front of them, and were attaching bunches of green foliage to the rope with pieces of wire. Once the rope was covered, it would be hung up on scaffolding so they could start adding individual flowers, stripping the leaves by hand from each stem so they could be easily inserted. Blooms of yellow, pink, blue and purple were mixed in with the foliage until the garland was complete, ready to be hung up in the chapel. It was a labour of love, but the Christmas garland had become a Peasebrook tradition. Alice looked at all the dried flowers waiting in boxes. Dillon had cut every single one of them, choosing only the very best, and had put them away carefully to dry. She still hadn’t seen him properly since she got back. She had glimpsed him in the grounds, but every time she got to her feet and went to call him, he had disappeared.
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