A Winter's Wedding (23 page)

‘Darling, it’s all happening,’ Dylan said excitedly. ‘What did they say at work when they saw your engagement ring? I bet it was mad, was it? Is Arabella going to be your bridesmaid? I bet all the girls were queuing up to be bridesmaids, were they?’

Emily cradled her mobile phone against her cheek, and closed her eyes.

25. Fashion Destination

Sylvia rang Dylan and Emily in a state of high excitement on Saturday morning.

‘Brilliant news!’ she squeaked. ‘You are not going to believe this!’

‘Tell us, then,’ Dylan laughed.

He’d been making tea in the kitchen when Sylvia rang. Emily was still hiding under the duvet, refusing to listen to Dylan’s affirmations that Arabella would be begging for her forgiveness in the very near future. He had also tried in vain to convince Emily they could still afford to buy a house some day soon. And failing that, they could just move to the suburbs and rent a bigger flat. Emily was fed up on all fronts. She had switched off her mobile – and warned Dylan that, if he let Arabella into the flat, there might well be an assault committed.

‘Okay, drum roll please … The shop is going to be featured in
Vogue
,’ Sylvia trilled.

‘Do you mean
Vogue
, as in the magazine?’ Dylan asked.

‘Yes! What else?’ Sylvia laughed. ‘Our little shop is going to be a fashion destination! Hooray!’

Emily rolled her eyes. Her life seemed overwhelmed with magazines these days.

‘I think this is something you girls might prefer to talk about,’ Dylan said, handing Emily the phone. ‘The shop’s going to be in
Vogue
.’

Emily shook her head and kept her hands under the blankets, but Dylan simply dropped the phone on the bed and walked away. If anyone could talk Emily out of her mood, it was Sylvia. Sylvia was famed for her infectious laugh.

‘Hello? Emily?’ Sylvia said. ‘Are you there, Emily?’

‘Yes, I’m here,’ Emily said, reaching out from beneath her duvet of doom. ‘How did this amazing thing happen?’

She forced some enthusiasm into her voice for Sylvia’s sake.

‘One of their stylists was passing the shop a few months ago, and she thought it looked really nice with the peacock-blue shelving. So she took some photos, and – to cut a long story short – she did a fashion shoot here this morning.’

‘You didn’t say anything about this before. And Dylan didn’t say anything about it either,’ Emily said, puzzled.

‘Dylan wasn’t in the shop the day the stylist was passing. And I didn’t tell you both about this morning’s shoot in case they decided not to use the pictures. The stylist did say that most of what they take never gets used, you see. Anyway, she’s just texted me to say the feature has been approved already, charity shops being very
in
this year, and the shoot is going to cover eleven pages. We’re going to get a big mention. Isn’t that the most amazing news you’ve ever heard in your whole life?’

‘Indeed it is,’ Emily said.

‘Well, maybe not your whole life,’ Sylvia admitted.

‘No, this is fabulous news, and you’ve worked so hard. Good for you!’

‘I’m stunned,’ Sylvia said. ‘Just stunned …’

‘What month will the magazine be out?’ Emily asked.

‘October, I think,’ Sylvia said wistfully. ‘All the waiting will kill me.’

‘Yes, October sounds about right,’ Emily agreed. ‘They do have a long lead-in period. I’m so happy for you, Sylvia. You deserve a break more than anybody.’

‘Thanks, Emily, but I couldn’t have done it without your advice on colour, and Dylan’s expertise with a hammer and nails.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Emily smiled.

Dylan came into the room then. He handed her a mug of tea and a plate of toast. They had only the ends of the loaf left, so Emily’s slice of toast was about an inch thick.

‘We’ll call into the shop later and say hello,’ Emily said, taking a bite of the buttery doorstep. It was the first thing she had eaten in twenty-four hours.

‘Okay,’ Sylvia said happily. ‘I’m interviewing new sales assistants later on today, by the way. Now that Dylan’s joining the white-collar brigade again, I’ll need a bona fide assistant here to cover for me when I go to look after the horses. But hopefully, with the shop taking off the way it is, I’ll be able to afford to pay someone to work full-time.’

‘I’m looking for work at the moment,’ Emily half joked.

‘What are you talking about?’ Sylvia asked.

‘I resigned from the magazine this week,’ Emily told her sheepishly.

‘For pity’s sake! Why?’

‘I had a row with my boss.’

‘Did you indeed! What was it about?’

‘She seems to think I only got engaged to stick it to her,’ Emily said sadly. ‘She’s divorcing at the moment.’

‘Yikes, the green-eyed monster strikes again, huh?’ Sylvia groaned. ‘Dylan has that effect on some women. They tend to look at their own partners and feel short-changed. And as his
woman
, you’re bound to cop a bit of the flak.’

‘Yes, I think something like that might have happened,’ Emily said. ‘Mind you, she never seemed to be jealous of me. I always thought she cared more about interiors than relationships, anyway. And she’s way more glamorous than I’ll ever be. I’m still in shock, really; we were best friends for years.’

‘What a shame.’

‘I know. And to think I only met Dylan when I came into the shop to donate a pile of Arabella’s old gifts to me. You could say she brought us together.’

‘Swings and roundabouts,’ Sylvia said. ‘Is there no hope of the pair of you making up?’

‘No way,’ Emily said firmly. ‘I’ll never trust her again, and I’ll never work for her again. In fact, I’m beginning to think everything nice she ever said to me was a lie.’

‘Oh, Emily, I’m sure it wasn’t,’ Sylvia said in a motherly voice.

‘Spilt milk,’ Emily said sagely.

‘A tenner says you’ll make up again,’ Sylvia said.

‘Okay, but now I’m putting you back on to Dylan. You mustn’t let anything spoil your big moment.’

Emily handed the phone back to Dylan. She sipped her tea as Sylvia told Dylan all the lovely things the
Vogue
stylist had said about the shop. Then Emily suddenly remembered she hadn’t told her own parents yet that she’d left her job. She wondered why that was, and assumed it was because she didn’t expect they’d give her any sympathy. They’d only tell her to go out and get another job – as if ten years of friendship, and thousands of hours of unpaid overtime, counted for nothing. But then she reminded herself to think of them as children, and it did actually help her to think of them more fondly. Emily also thought longingly of her days pottering in Sylvia’s shop, ironing the new donations and playing about with the window displays. It had reminded her of playing in the Wendy house at primary school. Even then, Emily had enjoyed putting the pots and pans in a neat row on the kitchen shelf. She reached out her hand for the phone.

‘Sylvia, I wonder … Would you consider taking me on for a while?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes. I quite liked working in the shop, actually – the few times I did it,’ Emily said. ‘There’s a lovely atmosphere in there since it was all fixed up. It’s like a little treasure trove, full of dark corners and secret alcoves. I did enjoy setting out the new things and chatting to the customers. It was nice chatting to ordinary people, instead of the ones who were half mad with keeping their homes in perfect order all the time.’

‘Tell you what,’ Sylvia said kindly, ‘you’re far too talented to work in a charity shop. And I’m only offering to pay minimum wage. But if it gets you out of the house, you can work here for a month or so. And if any of my applicants are suitable today, I’ll tell them they can start here in a month’s time, okay? Just so you don’t end up staying here for a year, right?’

‘Thanks, Sylvia,’ Emily said in a small voice. ‘I’ll be there first thing on Monday morning.’

‘Okay, bye. Say bye to Dylan for me.’

She hung up.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve taken over my old job?’ Dylan said, shaking his head at her.

‘Only for a month,’ Emily assured him. ‘Just for a month, until I decide what I’m going to do next …’

‘That’s what I said,’ he murmured, sitting on the bed and kissing Emily’s neck as she devoured the tea and toast. ‘And I was there for more than a year.’

‘Oh wow, you’re right,’ Emily laughed. ‘Well, I can promise you now that I will only stay for one month. Not a minute longer. I need a rest and a bit of down time, and I don’t want to go rushing into the first job that comes along. And besides, the shop is a worthwhile cause – and we’ve all those hungry horses and ponies to think of.’

‘I said all that too – almost word for word. That shop has a magical hold on people with kind souls.’

‘Oh dear, I suppose you’re right. But it’s all arranged now. I don’t want to back out again.’

‘Right, missy. Get out of that bed. You need a treat, so I’m taking you to the cinema.’

‘What are we going to see?’ Emily asked him.

‘Anything – it doesn’t matter what. I fancy some popcorn, and I fancy a burger afterwards. And I fancy a night out with my beautiful fiancée. We’re getting obsessed with work. We need to remember that we have lives to live too.’

‘And you’re not mad at me for packing in my job?’ she said.

‘Of course I’m not. I know how it feels when you come to the end of one path, and you want to start again.’

‘And you don’t mind that Enid agreed to sell her house to that other couple yesterday?’ Emily said, her eyes filling up with unexpected tears.

‘Hey, come on. Don’t cry. We wouldn’t have got our paperwork done that fast in any case. The wily old bird wasn’t joking when she said she didn’t like to hang about. She had to move fast to get that room next to her friend Ida, anyway. There’ll be other houses, baby. London is full of houses. And some of them might even have stairs that don’t creak like a sinking ship.’

‘I love you, Dylan.’

‘I love you too.’

‘You’re a lovely man.’

‘Yes, I know it.’

‘And so modest too …’

‘What’s the point in false modesty, I always say?’

Emily laughed, and threw a pillow at him.

‘Give me twenty minutes,’ she said. ‘I just need to jump in the shower and blow-dry my hair … I quite fancy a bucket of popcorn tonight myself.’

26. The Home at the Top of the World

Dylan had been right about many things: the sudden drop in property prices, the right way to deal with Mr and Mrs Reilly, and the prediction that he would not be sued by Emily’s ill-fated one-night stand, Glenn. But he was wrong about one thing: Arabella didn’t come round to Emily’s flat and beg for her forgiveness. And she didn’t ask her to come back to the office. Instead, she accepted Emily’s resignation in a letter sent the day after Emily walked out of
Stylish Living
for ever. And she gave Emily’s job as chief features writer to none other than Jane Maxwell. Senior stylist Petra Dunwoody told Emily all about it over a cup of tea in a new café near the magazine’s offices one blustery afternoon at the end of January.

‘We were all stunned when Arabella made the announcement,’ Petra said in a grim voice. ‘Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop for about twenty seconds after she’d finished speaking. We were all sitting around the table as usual, waiting for the weekly meeting to begin. And she just told us coolly and calmly that Jane was now her second-in-command. She never mentioned your name once. Not once. Stunned, we were.’

‘I bet you were,’ Emily said. ‘I still can’t believe I don’t work there any more.’

‘We had to clap and pretend to be delighted and congratulate Jane, of course. But it was so muted, it was embarrassing. Arabella’s always disliked Jane, and everybody knows it,’ Petra said sadly.

‘Tell me about it! Arabella’s been dreaming of firing Jane for years,’ Emily agreed.

‘But now that Jane is dating that orange-faced
billionaire
, Doug Liebermann, the two of them are glued together 24/7. We all thought Arabella would be dead jealous of Jane, but she seems delighted by it all. I wonder … Is she planning to seduce old Doug the minute Jane’s back is turned?’

‘I don’t think so. Arabella is the classy type, and Doug seems to go for the airheads.’

‘Look, I feel awful even telling you this, Emily, but Jane and Arabella are going to LA together next week to shoot some homes there. We’re bringing out our first ever American Homes issue in May, apparently. And Jane and Doug are going to be in it, announcing their relationship to the world. As if the world cares about some sleazy guy with a pot belly and dark glasses, and his giggling blonde bimbo gold-digger …’

‘Ah well, it doesn’t matter to me any more,’ Emily said. ‘It was becoming quite stressful, working at
Stylish Living
. I mean, I love my home. But beyond buying the odd set of new mugs and embroidered cushions, I don’t lose any sleep over it. In recent years most of the readers I’ve interviewed have been slightly bonkers. Half of them can’t sleep at night for worrying about anyone putting a scrape on their cantilevered staircases, and so on.’

‘True. It is a bit shallow.’

‘Jane’s always wanted to have more celebrities in the magazine, and now she’ll get her wish,’ Emily added.

‘But Arabella always said the magazine was about real homes, not celebrities,’ Petra complained. ‘I don’t like the way things are going, to be honest with you. We’ll end up taking close-ups of Z-listers wearing white shirts. They’ll be plugging their latest project, and we’ll be Photoshopping out their plastic surgery scars rather than showing the readers their actual homes.’

‘Probably,’ Emily nodded.

‘I’d resign myself, if I didn’t need the money so badly. And we are in a recession and all …’ Petra said bitterly.

‘I’ll tell you this much, though,’ Emily said brightly. ‘There is one thing that Jane was good for – she gave that silly old cow Daisy Churchill a taste of her own medicine.’

‘Oh yes! She surely did that.’

‘How many marriages has that woman wrecked during her
glamour
career? About six that I can think of, off the top of my head … Yes, at least three footballers and three pop stars have ended up in the divorce courts because of Daisy and her airbags. And now she’s been chucked herself, for our very own Jane Maxwell. It’s the most perfect, poetic irony. I laughed my head off when Daisy Churchill was arrested for breach of the peace yesterday.’

‘So did I – we all did.’

‘I know it’s
so
mean to take pleasure in anyone else’s misfortune, but Jane was lucky she got away with only losing a fistful of her hair extensions. She might have been murdered. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and all that.’

‘I know – isn’t it the truth? Jane’s got twelve magazine covers out of this
romance
so far, so she was well pleased when Daisy attacked her outside the Ivy. I think
OK!
magazine were on the phone to her this morning. Now Daisy has been truly humped and dumped, and Jane is the new gossip favourite in town.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be London without a bit of juicy celebrity gossip, would it?’ Emily smiled. ‘It wouldn’t be London, if you couldn’t be a humble magazine stylist one day and the darling of the tabloid media the next. If Cheryl Cole can be described as the Nation’s Sweetheart just because she got cheated on, there’s hope for us all.’

‘Well, listen. Anybody who can knock Daisy off the front pages for a week or two has got to be welcomed. Do you miss us at all, Emily?’ Petra asked.

‘Of course I do,’ Emily said, pouring more tea. ‘I miss everybody at the magazine, even Arabella and Jane. But I’m having such a lovely time at the charity shop. The sales assistant who was supposed to replace me found another job, so I’m staying on for a while. Just until I figure out whether I want to find another job in magazine publishing, or try something new altogether.’

‘And how is Dylan keeping?’

‘He’s fine, thanks for asking. He’s working hard and generally treating me like a princess. We’re thinking of buying our own place soon.’

‘Are you really?’ Petra said excitedly.

‘Early days, but yes … I’m going house-hunting today, actually. Just having a tootle around on my own. I like to spend my days off looking at houses. It makes a lovely change – looking at properties for myself and Dylan, instead of interviewing the readers. We won’t be able to afford much. Maybe a studio flat? But I’ll be working again soon, and we can start slogging our way up that old property ladder.’

‘I really thought Arabella would say sorry to you,’ Petra said tearfully. ‘We all did.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Emily smiled. ‘She’s been through such a hard time recently, with the divorce and then having to downsize. And I dare say I could have picked a better time to get engaged.’

‘But you were such good friends always,’ Petra added, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

Nobody at the magazine had realized how much they liked Emily until she wasn’t working there any more. The cosy atmosphere that Emily had created with her tea and biscuits had now been replaced with a frosty, target-driven regime. And the write-ups that were once packed with delicious domestic details were now just crisp notes slotted in around the pictures.

‘I do wish Arabella all the best … Maybe we’ll make up again some day?’ Emily said generously.

But they both knew this would never happen. Arabella had moved on, and it was time for Emily to move on too.
Stylish Living
had changed; Emily didn’t want to be a part of that world any more.

‘So where are you going today?’ Petra asked.

‘I thought I might try Hampstead,’ Emily said. ‘I thought I’d start at the highest point in London and work my way down.’

‘Why not? That’s as good a plan as any,’ Petra nodded, leaving a small tip for the waitress. ‘I can only afford a pound, but every little helps,’ she smiled. ‘Thanks for lunch, Emily. It’s been so lovely to see you again.’

‘Well, keep in touch, won’t you?’ Emily told her. ‘You have my mobile number, and I’ll let you know if we ever find a place we can afford. You’ll have to come to the housewarming party.’

‘Try and stop me.’

The two women hugged briefly outside the café door, and then Petra returned to work while Emily jumped on a Northern Line train in the direction of Hampstead.

While she was sitting there, half hypnotized by the clackety-clack of the train, she got three calls on her mobile phone.

One was from a very emotional Peter Diamond – to say that his wife, Sarah, had gone out of the house for the first time in ten years, to rescue a small grey cat that had caught its foot in a shrub in their garden.

‘I’m so pleased for you both,’ Emily said, tears of happiness welling up in her eyes.

‘Yes, Sarah saw the poor thing struggling in the bushes. I was out of the house that day on business, and after a while she could bear it no longer, so she went outside and plucked the cat to safety.’

‘How amazing! I did notice a cat’s paw prints in the snow the day I visited you. I wonder if it’s the same cat?’

‘We seem to have adopted it, anyway,’ Peter Diamond said. ‘Ever since Sarah rescued it, it won’t leave our kitchen. We went out for a short walk that very evening, Emily. I think Sarah may be on the road to recovery.’

‘That’s wonderful news.’

‘Yes, it is. Well, take care.’

‘Yes, you too …’

The second call was from her parents – to say that Jake Lancaster was coming home early from Australia, but that a friend of Jake’s had offered them another house-sitting gig in a nearby street. They couldn’t decide whether to take the job and give up their old house in Belfast, or go home again and settle down to the quiet life. Emily was amazed to discover she wanted them to stay in London. She told them to think about it for a day or two, and that if they ever felt they were getting bored with house-sitting, she would help them find another place to live – either in Belfast or in London.

Then she told both of them that she loved them dearly, despite knowing that lots of people on the Tube could hear what she said.

‘We love you too, Emily,’ Mr Reilly said.

And Emily knew that he meant it.

The third call was from Dylan – to say that his old bank had agreed to give them an exclusive deal as a well-regarded former employee: a hundred per cent mortgage if they ever wanted one. Only up to the sum of £300,000, but it was a great start. So all they had to do now was find a place of their own.

‘And I have to find a job,’ Emily grimaced.

‘You will,’ he said confidently.

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Where are you, anyway?’ Dylan asked.

‘On the Tube, going to Hampstead,’ she told him.

‘Any particular reason?’ he said.

‘Just looking at property; I hear the views are pretty good in Hampstead,’ she smiled.

‘Okay, I’ll see you later,’ Dylan said tenderly. ‘Take care. Love you.’

‘Love you too,’ she said.

Emily got off the Tube and walked towards the Heath. It was a sunny day, though still very cold, and she went in that direction purely because the sun seemed to be shining a little stronger there. She bought a takeaway cappuccino at a café, and sipped it slowly while strolling along pretty streets lined with red-brick Victorian houses.

She turned into Parliament Hill, then remembered someone telling her once that Parliament Hill was where the members of the Gunpowder Plot had gathered to watch the Houses of Parliament burn. The area had stunning views across the city.

And then she saw it: a small but perfectly formed second-floor flat with a For Sale sign in the front window. The front door of the house was painted dark green. On the doorstep was a reclaimed chimney pot – empty now, but in Emily’s mind it was brimming over with red tulips. She set her cappuccino on the garden wall and rang the number of the estate agent. They answered on the first ring; they were obviously having a quiet day at the office.

‘Hello? My name is Emily Reilly, and I’m calling about the second-floor flat in Parliament Hill,’ Emily began.

‘Would you like to see it today?’ a woman said.

‘Yes, please,’ Emily said, amazed. ‘I’m standing right by it now, actually.’

‘I’ll send someone over right away,’ the woman said.

Five minutes later, Emily was climbing the stairs with her heart in her mouth. The communal hallway was bright, clean and airy. And when the estate agent opened the door to the flat, Emily felt dizzy with excitement. Although small, the flat had stunning views of the Heath and the city beyond. She felt as if she were standing at the top of the world.

‘Stunning views,’ she said breathlessly.

‘Indeed,’ the agent smiled.

‘I like it,’ Emily told him, noting the brand-new carpets, the spotless kitchen and the built-in storage in the bedroom. All of it done up in white to maximize the feeling of space. There was no garden – not even a balcony for her reclaimed chimney pot. But she could make do with a vase of red tulips on the window sill. And with the Heath on their doorstep, they didn’t really need a garden of their own.

‘Any offers on it yet?’

‘A couple of offers, yes, but the owner is holding out for the asking price.’

‘What is the asking price?’ Emily said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He told her.

It was just within the budget Dylan had mentioned.

‘Can I have another look around, and then phone my fiancé?’ Emily asked quietly.

‘Sure. I can come back later today, if he wants to view the property.’

The agent went out to the communal hall to make some phone calls. Emily gazed out of the wide bay window and then selected Dylan’s mobile number with a trembling hand.

‘I’ve found our first home,’ she said.

‘Have you? Wow! Where is it?’ he asked.

She told him.

‘Do you like it?’ he said.

‘I love it, baby.’

‘You called me baby,’ he laughed.

‘We have got to buy this place,’ Emily said.

‘I’ll come over and see it now,’ Dylan said.

‘Can you just leave the office?’ she gasped.

‘I’ll ask the boss, and then call you back,’ he laughed. ‘I’m sure he’ll say yes.’

‘Okay, I’ll wait for you outside,’ Emily said.

The agent came back into the flat. He was looking at his watch. Emily knew this was just another day at work to him.

But to her it was the beginning of something wonderful.